Frost (Queens of Hell Book 1)

by Liza James

  “Don’t need to,” I bite out, not caring to keep my voice down as I move to stand back up on my feet. My eyes meet Brielle’s directly as I stand up against her. I may not verbalize exactly what I’m feeling, but I’ll be damned if she thinks she has any sort of effect on me. Her or Na’amah.

  Where the hell is she, by the way? My mind wonders absently to the idea that she spent the night in Brielle’s room. That they slept together. That they are more than the subsequent dominant/submissive roles Na’amah has made me believe she only participates in.

  I stalk past Brielle without a word, Sera and Fira follow suit, and it’s when I enter the large room ahead of me that I find all the others gathered together.

  The room is draped in all four colors of the queens, velvet cascades from the ceilings and a beautifully intricate and elaborate chandelier hangs from above us. All four colors are painted around it; stunning depictions of what I assume each of their powers must be. I only guess that because the blue portions resemble snow and ice. Giants wisps of snowflakes and shards of frozen crystals are embellished perfectly in various shades of blue.

  My eyes dance over the other sections, curiously trying to decipher what each of the other Queen’s are capable of. But my attention is pulled quickly when the sound of Na’amah’s voice cuts through my focus.

  “Skilla,” she starts, and my eyes dart to the other side of the room where I find her standing at the head of a long, dark oak table. Four chairs are lined on both sides, with a single larger, seat stationed at the head. The expanse is covered in an array of breakfast foods. It’s practically a feast for everyone involved. Large platters and trays are scattered across the center and each of the girls I’ve met so far are milling about at their seats in order to dish their own plates and begin eating.

  Jesus fuck. As if everything in this place is goddamn normal. As if they haven’t been abducted and abused and kept here without their consent?

  I don’t understand it.

  My eyes narrow at the sound of my name coming from her lips, a spark of outrage blooms in my chest at the simple sight of her. Flashes from last night flood my mind and I physically force the lump growing in my throat back down and meet her hard gaze.

  “Sit.” One word. Her voice. A tone of demand and authority.

  God, it feels like I’m the only person in this room who doesn’t have a choice. Her eyes drop to the sit beside hers and her head tilts that way for a moment before turning back to me.

  “No thanks,” I reply, and I don’t think she misses the air of sarcasm in my voice. “I’d rather sit with Sera.”

  “No she wouldn’t,” Sera immediately chimes in, and I look to her as betrayal stings my skin. Her eyes soften as she glances at me, but she stays steady in her decision to push me toward Na’amah. She steps closer for only a moment as she whispers under her breath, “Don’t fight this. I promise it’ll be easier if you just surrender.”

  I don’t know why, but hell it makes me even angrier that this is what she’s encouraging. How? When the hell did they decide it would be better to live this life, than to fight for their freedom? “Never,” I snap back, and then face Na’amah’s gaze once again. My eyes rake over her tall figure, her powerful arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her round tits spilling over just slightly, enough to have my eyes falling for the briefest moment before I drop lower over her waist.

  I’d like to say watching her like this has no effect on me, but even in the midst of my anger, I can feel this icy tether growing stronger between the two of us. My fight is twofold, working against this unnatural draw to her essence while pushing away from the constraints this life is now tying me down in.

  Her small waist flares out over her narrow hips and my gaze lingers on the way her black, leather pants cling tightly to her incredibly strong thighs. Ah fuck, those thighs and legs. It’s downright ridiculous how attractive she is, and how her attitude does nothing to distract from that.

  But I shake the draw off my shoulders and meet her look of authority once again. Her snow white hair is tied up like usual on top of her head. Only this time, there is a braid starting at the front and weaving her hair all the way back into that knot, her sides are shaved close all the way around, with those intricate designs of snow somehow cut into the design as well.

  Strangely, I’m frozen in place for a moment, a blast of her chill suddenly rolling through the marks she’s left on my skin. It’s like I can feel her all of a sudden, buried within my flesh even though she hasn’t moved a single inch since I stepped into this room. Her gaze darkens and her lips part only slightly, and the tension between us grows thick and heavy as I force my breaths to maintain a consistent pace.

  Moments from last night uncontrollably rise to the surface of my mind and I’m locked in the reminders of her fingers on my skin, in between my legs, and tying me up in the darkness.

  “Fuck, fuck. Don’t even go there,” I mutter to myself, assuming no one can hear me. But the slight uptick of Na’amah’s lips has me terrified that she somehow did. I take a step to the side, closer to Sera when my legs instantly pound in pain. I cry out, loudly, in front of everyone, and stumble just slightly while I attempt straightening up again.

  My fingers grip my thighs in the same moment, confusion rushing through me at the sudden onslaught of pain. They were feeling better, so I don’t understand what could have happened to—

  “I said, sit, Kitten,” Na’amah speaks again, her voice dropping a decibel and keeping that monotone tenor as she watches me. My eyes snap to hers, and I swear I can feel the pulsing of her essence beating in my own skin.

  What the hell?

  “Did you just—” I start, my voice much quieter than I intend, but I can’t help it. I’m so caught off guard and mildly embarrassed by both my own show of weakness and the fact that Na’amah just called me fucking Kitten in front of everyone.

  Na’amah steps away from the table, slowly and deliberately as she turns to the left. She walks all the way around the large expanse, while each of the girls present remain silent and unmoving. They all watch, their intense gazes burning holes all over my body as I try to stay strong and appear brave in this moment.

  But my heart is thundering in my chest, my skin is pulling tight as sweat beads along my forehead and my mind races with every possible outcome this could lead to.

  The air drops a few more degrees, with every step she takes toward me, I grow colder. Soon however, she’s towering over me, and I tilt my chin up as I meet her gaze in front of everyone watching.

  It’s her energy that terrifies me though, because even as I struggle to remain present and confident here, she doesn’t even look phased. She doesn’t seem thrown off in the slightest, as if my presence is a mere inconvenience to her unmatched power and capabilities.

  Her hand suddenly darts forward and fingers wrap fiercely around my throat. She squeezes, and every ounce of strength I had vanishes as her ice quickly spills through her marks on my skin and in the air around us. I’m completely aghast when I realize she’s affecting more than my inner self. In actuality, shards of ice instantly whip past my face and frame, I head them slice through the air and puncture the wall at my back.

  Crashes fall from behind me, what sounds like glass spilling onto the stone ground below. I gasp, my hands flying up to wrap tightly around Na’amah’s wrist. Her face doesn’t alter for a moment, while mine is twisting in my lack of oxygen and the sheer panic exploding in my veins. I gasping as she lifts me up just slightly, my toes scrambling to touch the ground similarly to how they were last night.

  Last night.

  How can I even think of that while all of this is happening? But it’s continuous, even having her hands on me now, her cold skin against my heat, are reminders of all the different things she can make me feel in such small amounts of time.

  “Sit where you are told to sit. Do what you are told to do. Speak when you are told to speak,” she states flatly, all emotion completely void of her nature as sh
e watches me. I can’t breathe, and my fingers are digging into her flesh as I try to pry her away from me. "It’s simple, truly. Do you need an example of what a good girl does when she belongs to me?”

  Something otherworldly unleashes in my blood, a feeling much more toxic than jealousy and one that resonates deeper than even in my blood. No, this is viscously potent, and the idea of seeing anyone else in this space with Na’amah shocks me to my core. I can’t even believe how my body is reacting now, and I vaguely wonder if these marks, of my moments with her already, have made me far more attached than I even realized before now.

  I don’t respond, because I still can’t breathe and truthfully, I think she wants to push me like this. Her fingers tighten only briefly, cutting off my ability to make a single sound when she suddenly releases her grip and I fall to the floor. Her dark and sadistic eyes remain glued to me as she speaks next, and the name she voices is no surprise to me.

  “Brielle.” That dominant tone is perfectly evident, and my heart sinks to my stomach as I work to catch my breath. I hear the painful sound of a chair scraping across the floor, and the quick taps her light feet as she hurries around the room to Na’amah.

  “Yes, Alca,” her voice is immediate and submissive as she comes to stand just behind my captor. But there’s a lacing of desire, of passion in her words as she speaks to her. She’s so fucking eager it makes me sick.

  With jealousy, or disgust, I don’t know. But I refuse to acknowledge that.

  “Show Skilla what it means to belong to me, to submit as she should now that this is her new life.” She turns to her, reaching those strong fingers that were touching me just moments ago toward Brielle. With a much softer, kinder hold, she pulls Brielle in front of her, placing her in front of her chest and then weaving her arms gently around her waist.

  Brielle melts in her embrace, easing back until her head is falling against Na’amah’s shoulder and her hands remain at her sides. My tormentor continues touching her, running her hands over her stomach and down her thighs as I watch Brielle’s breath begin coming in quick and unsteady.

  Na’amah’s eyes are on me, and her lips part just enough for me to see her fangs drop in her mouth. It’s light in here, and it’s the first time I visibly see them so unobscured in front of me. My eyes widen at the sight of those sharp, white points now scraping over her thick lower lip. I’m absolutely entranced by them, my eyes glued to her movements before I even realize what she’s doing.

  Brielle’s breaths become even more rapid, her fingers tightening into fists at her side as if she knows she isn’t allowed to touch Na’amah back. But she’s relishing in her hold, and the soft whimper falling from her mouth has my eyes snapping in her direction. Her face is completely euphoric, and she tilts her head to the side as if she’s offering her neck to Na’amah.

  It takes a moment for me to understand what I’m seeing, but as Na’amah’s hand slides up her stomach and slowly over her tits, her thumb slipping over her clearly stiff nipples and then around her throat when I notice the marks I didn’t pick up on before. It’s now, when her neck is completely elongated, when her blouse has slipped off her shoulder just a bit, that I see two puncture wounds at the base of her throat, small and pink around the edges.

  “Feed me like you did last night, my girl,” Na’amah whispers quietly against her skin, dragging the tips of her fangs over the side of her throat before closing her lips and kissing her.

  “Focus, Skilla,” I absently hear the sound of what I think is Fira’s voice bedside me but my mind is practically void of anything aside from what I’m watching take place right in front of me. An intense need to rip Brielle away from Na’amah builds in my stomach, and my logical mind is screaming at me to close my fucking eyes and not watch this.

  But I can’t, and tears shockingly spring forward when I see Na’amah’s tongue slip out and slide across the marks her teeth undoubtedly left on her last night.

  “Always, Alca,” Brielle submits, gathering her hair and pulling it to the side so she can offer her vein completely.

  I hate her. I loathe the both of them separately and together, and my nails claw into the ground below me while I try to detach myself from what’s happening.

  “Wait,” I speak the word frantically, my mind and body shifting into something of survival rather than logic. A space I believe I’ll become familiar with…one that will soon be my friend rather than foe if I remain here.

  But it’s too late, and in the next instant I excruciatingly watch as Na’amah’s hand fiercely grips Brielle’s jaw as she twists her head to the side and her sharp fangs pierce deeply into the base of her throat. Brielle cries out at the same time, her hands flying up as one wraps around Na’amah’s wrist and the other fervently holds the back of her neck. She pulls her affectionately against her as she drinks, and I watch as thin streams of blood suddenly escape Na’amah’s lips and slip down over Brielle’s collarbone.

  I break apart at the sight of them together. There’s no excuse, no logical reasoning behind this that could explain the absolutely intrinsic reaction my mind and body are experiencing now. But I can sense the shift inside of me, that tether holding me to Na’amah even when I don’t want it to, tightening and snapping at the same time. It’s alive and livid, a hurricane of betrayal billowing under my skin as my lips fall open and a visceral scream explodes from my mouth.

  I lose control completely. My eyes squeeze shut as my blood boils and ripples in my flesh. My heart feels as though it stops beating entirely, and I panic when I suddenly feel my thighs tighten in what resembles physical binds of ice around my legs. Immediately, it feels as though I can’t move, but my screaming won’t stop as I lose all perception of time.

  I’m stuck. Completely frozen in this moment of terror and jealousy without having any ability to escape it. My legs feel heavy and cold, and my vision goes completely black while I’m like this.

  Quiet words sound in the distance, and I struggle to sift through the scream resonating in my ears and flowing through my chest in order to make them out.

  “Focus on her ice, on the chill, Skilla. Remember.” Sera, I assume this time but her words make no sense as she speaks them over and over and over again. I can feel the ice binding my legs together, sitting heavy in my thighs, but it does nothing to comfort me, nothing to help me escape this terrible nightmare.

  The words come louder now though, and I fight against the paralyzing hold in order to attempt doing as she says. Can I quiet the sound of my own strangled voice? I’m desperate too. Dying to escape this hold and get away from these people.

  I need to be alone.

  I need to be with Na’amah.

  I need.

  I need.

  I need.

  Finally, I sense the slightest crack in the frozen hold around my legs, as if something has faltered, and I focus on that sensation as I try to regain control. The chill feels even more potent now, as if the tether between myself and Na’amah has settled even a single increment into rest. It allows me the briefest instant to solidify my attention on her frost, on the sensation thing I know connects me to her.

  And the subtlest sound of her breath, very suddenly in my ear, offers me the smallest shred of hope in my ability to find myself once again and calm. The reminder that I am still alive, that Na’amah is still alive, that we’re in the same space has my hands clinging forward and finally grasping her skin. I’m holding onto her forearm I believe, but my vision hasn’t cleared and everything is still dark around me.

  I’m trembling though, the cold seeping into my bones and sending goosebumps all over my skin. I can feel the feel ice growing within my flesh, branching outward and covering my limbs in what I imagine is thin layer of frost.

  I’m so cold. And the hands now resting on either side of my cheeks do not bring me any warmth.

  Somehow that’s comforting. Because my mind lingers on her face instead. No more Brielle, no other girls, no one else.

  Except me and her
. The realization of that being what brings me comfort and solace in this moment is…disturbing.

  “Take her to her room,” Na’amah’s pained voice breaks through my mental oasis, shattering my peace with the gravity of our situation.

  “I can’t see,” I speak quickly, my voice raising an octave as fear spirals through me.

  “You will,” Na’amah speaks again, but I can no longer feel her skin against mine. I can’t hear her breath in my ear, and I briefly wonder if I imagined those comforts in the first place. “Give it time, I need to put distance between us.”

  “Us? You and I?” I ask, twisting my head back and forth as commotion audibly breaks around the room. I move forward onto my hands and knees, attempting to stand when Na’amah’s hands quickly grip my upper arms and catch me when I stumble in my lack of vision. She steadies me, but the sheer agonizing sting that rips through my flesh where she touches me has me rearing back away from her.

  I hear her sigh out in frustration before she speaks again. She’s close, her heated voice low in my ear without touching me. “There’s too much opposing, frenetic energy between us. Distance is the only thing that will dissolve it completely.”

  Confusion rushes through me, spilling out into dread as I think about being alone without my sight. Once again, the dichotomy of every decision seemingly splitting me in two.

  “Don’t go,” I whisper, repeatedly closing my eyes and opening them again in hopes that it somehow works my vision back into clearer territory. “Not you.”

  Na’amah is silent for a pause, so long that I think she’s actually left me while the other girls hurry around the room. But she suddenly speaks again, and the simple sound of her heady, smooth voice echos in my ears. “You are making this far harder than it’s meant to be.”

  I hesitate. “What? What does that even mean?” But she’s gone. I can tell because the air around me suddenly warms ever so slightly and I hear the sound of Thalia’s kind voice as her hands wrap gently around my upper arms.

  “Come with me, I’ll get you back up to your room.” She pulls on my frame and I lean into her, trusting her as she leads me out of the space and into the hallway. I follow in silence, lacing my hand through hers as I focus on staying upright with every step.