by Joy Nash
He called down the spell forms that would bind her, and spoke them into her mind. Power unfurled, and he felt a moment of triumph. He was moments from the goal Artur had set for him. Moments from claiming Maddie’s magic as his own.
Her climax was almost upon her. He could feel the edge of bliss in her mind, feel it in the growing spasms of her body. He stared down at her, paralyzed with awe by the power of this moment in time. Impaled on his cock, legs splayed wide, spine arched and lips parted—she was so beautiful. Her skin was glowing, her arms stretched wide, ready to embrace her new world.
How he loved her.
It was the worst time to realize that truth. The worst time to realize that he didn’t want her power, that he didn’t want to take her freedom. He didn’t want her as a possession, a reservoir of magic to be used at his will. Or, more accurately, at Artur’s will.
He held himself still in her mind, caught in the knowledge of those unwanted possibilities—the power, the glory, the reality of Maddie’s magic. And wondering what more they could be without the taint of slavery between them. If, as equals, they rejected the curse that branded them as enemies? Was that possible? With trust? With love?
If only he dared believe.
It was a risk. A great risk. Foolhardy in the extreme. Among Watchers, trust could only be given to kin. Rivals could only join as master and slave. At least, that was what Artur had taught him.
What if Artur were wrong?
No. He couldn’t hesitate. He had to push forward, bind her utterly. Completely. But when he looked into her eyes, he realized there was, after all, a shred of humanity left in his being.
Curse or no curse, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make her his slave. Even at the loss of her magic for his clan, even for his lost son, even at the risk of stirring Artur into a killing rage.
“Maddie,” he gasped. “I thought . . . I thought I could do this. I can’t. I don’t want to. Not like this.”
She stared up at him. “I don’t understand.”
He held himself deep and motionless inside her. “I haven’t told you everything. I . . . I was sent not only to find you, but to enslave you. For my clan. But now . . . I can’t do it. I want you as a lover, Maddie. As an equal partner. But that can only happen if you’re free. Free to choose me, too.”
He wanted what he had never been able to have with Cybele, because Cybele had formed her bond with Artur long before Cade had known her. But Maddie . . . Maddie was free to love. As was Cade. Could they be free together?
Before he could change his mind, he drew a deep breath. The ritual words formed on his lips. “I give you your life. I give you your power. I give you your freedom.”
“I feel . . . so strange,” Maddie whispered. “What’s . . . what’s happening to me?”
Cade surged deep inside her. “You’re changing. To Nephilim form.”
She licked dry lips. “I . . . I’m not sure I want to.”
“You can’t stop it,” Cade said. “Don’t try.”
Jumbled emotions battled inside Maddie’s skull. Foremost was fear. Fear of transformation. Next was anger. Burning anger, rage at her helplessness. Rage at Cade, who’d forced her to face it. Then came shame and horror for the cursed creature that she was. But beneath it all was excitement and anticipation of her growing power.
Twin lines of agony burned down her back, scoring either side of her spine. The pain robbed her of breath. Every muscle in her body screamed. Her skin was hot and slick. Her ribs were expanding, poised to shatter.
Screeching fear overwhelmed every other emotion. She wanted to scream, but her voice was frozen. All she could manage was a whimper.
She clung to Cade. He was the only solid thing in a universe that had dissolved into chaos. Into turbulent fear and raging pain. He was deep inside her body, deep inside her mind. The sharp, rhythmic pleasure of his hard thrusting, retreating, returning home, was her only window to sanity.
Do not be seduced. The son of Samyaza is not your path to power. He is your path to doom.
The whisper was so close she imagined the moistness of breath licking at her ear, but when she turned her head, nothing. When she opened her eyes, there was only Cade. Above her. Surrounding her. Inside her body. Inside her head.
Cade spoke into her mind. Trust me, Maddie.
His voice was clear. Not like the other. But the whispering, rasping voice was inside her, too. It didn’t cease speaking just because it shared her skull with Cade.
She stiffened, wary and confused, but Cade lowered his head and clamped his lips around her nipple. A hot spike of pleasure shot from her breast to her womb. He again plunged himself deep, stroking and building that pleasure. Her inner muscles contracted and for several blessed seconds the voice fell silent.
Her impending climax overloaded her senses; her hips rose, pleading for more. She wrapped her legs around Cade’s waist. His hands were beneath her, cupping her buttocks. She clutched at him.
The world rolled. He’d reversed their positions! She sprawled with palms braced on his chest; his fingers dug into her hips and pulled her sharply downward. He thrust upward at the same instant. Pleasure. She was almost at the edge. So was he.
Demon fire lit his eyes. His skin shimmered. He was beautiful in this form, she realized with some wonder. Not a monster at all. It felt so strange to have him inside her body and her mind, so strange and yet so right. If she could, she would take him deeper. She’d become a part of him willingly. Because she loved him.
The voice returned, low and rough. For love you are willing to be his whore? His slave?
No, she protested. It isn’t like that.
It is. He will be your master. He will bind you forever.
Dark panic welled inside her, toxic bubbles bursting in the sea of her well-being. Doubt polluted Cade’s beauty, destroyed the wonder of his presence. Cade, a slave master? No. It couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t believe it.
Then you are a fool. You are not of his clan. You are his enemy. He is strong. Stronger than you, who have just begun to know your magic. He will own you, your body as well as your life essence.
No. He won’t. He—
Low, mocking laughter. Do you imagine he comes to you in love?
Her heart caught. No. She hadn’t thought that. Not at first. But then . . . Cade had told her that he loved her. Was it true? Or, as the voice insisted, was it a lie designed to gain her trust?
His face was set in harsh lines, his breathing as ragged as her own. His fingers acted as a vise on her hips as he kept them locked in powerful movement. Her position caused him to invade her body even more deeply than before, and it was a hot, sweet knife stabbing at her heart.
The transformation was almost upon her; she could feel its beginnings. Her shoulder blades burned. She couldn’t stop this, as she couldn’t stop her body from responding to Cade’s. Nor could she eject his presence from her mind. He drove onward, forcing her into a climax she both yearned for and dreaded.
Listen. He is speaking the binding spell into your mind. Soon it will be too late.
She didn’t want to hear that whispered accusation. But the words, like sandpaper on tender skin, forced her acknowledgment.
Listen. Hear the truth.
She listened and realized the voice was right. There were words in her head. Strange words, garbled words. Words she didn’t recognize. Words unknown to her ancestors. Cade’s words.
Look. See the truth.
She closed her eyes. With a rush of horror, she knew. Cade’s spell drifted behind her eyelids as flowing ribbons of light, ribbons ready to twist into unbreakable shackles. Chains ready to bind her power.
You will be his slave, the whisperer spat into her mind. Not his lover.
No. No!
There wasn’t much time. Skin and muscle on either side of her spine tore apart; pain forced a cry from her throat. Her power was gathering. Another few seconds and it would burst into the world, only to be bound by Cade’s spell. A burning kn
ife of betrayal cut deep. How could she have been such a fool? How could she have, even for a moment, believed in him?
How could she escape him now? His thrusts had deepened, strong and sure, urging her ever toward the snare he’d prepared, the place where her body, her life essence, her magic would exist solely to serve him.
He will own you. As Ezreth sought to shame Lilith, so he seeks to shame you. But you are strong. You can fight him.
Fight? But how? How?
The Seed. The Seed is the key. The amulet can protect you.
The Seed of Life. The relic had protected her from Dr. Ben-Meir. It could protect her from Cade. She understood that now. In her memory she’d begun to understand the magic Lilith had bound with the talisman. Azazel’s daughter was Maddie’s ancestor. So, perhaps she could call Lilith’s power. Use it.
But the relic was far from her hands, not covering her heart where it was meant to be. Lilith’s shining gold was five thousand years old, bent and blackened. The bloodstone was no longer whole. And Cade . . . Cade was master of Maddie’s body and mind. She could never reach the disc. He would never allow it.
More pain ripped through her back. Her impending climax coiled just a bit tighter. Another heartbeat and it would break over her with tsunami force, another heartbeat and it would be too late to save herself. Panic froze her body, froze her mind. Even the voice of the whisperer faded. All she knew was Cade.
“Maddie.”
He stilled suddenly, his gaze capturing hers. Doubt clouded those beautiful blue eyes. And then, incredibly, Cade lit the path to her escape—and to his own destruction.
“I thought . . . I thought I could do this. I can’t. I don’t want to. Not like this.”
“I don’t understand.”
He held himself deep and still inside her. “I haven’t told you everything. I . . . I was sent not only to find you, but to enslave you. For my clan. But now . . . I can’t do it. I want you as a lover, Maddie. As an equal partner. But that can only happen if you’re free. Free to choose me, too.”
His tone broadened and deepened, as if he were reciting a passage from a holy book. “I give you your life. I give you your power. I give you your freedom.”
The whispering voice returned in a hiss. He lies. There can be no freedom. No equality. Among rival Nephilim, there is only master and slave. Which will you be?
She could take no more; her climax burst upon her. She screamed as her human body split apart and sparks raced over her skin, down her arms. Blue flames erupted from her palms. An explosion shook the cottage. Red sparks showered her, and a hot wind swept through Maddie’s body. Magic poured from her being. It unfurled in dark, sweeping wings of power.
A choice beckoned. She saw it clearly and made her decision. She seized the freedom Cade had so foolishly offered her.
You are wise, my daughter.
Chapter Nineteen
The sewer was dank and disgusting, but Artur had been in worse places.
He judged his position to be directly under the parlor he’d occupied a short time before. A narrow ledge ran alongside a channel of rainwater that churned in a course toward the river. Overhead, ancient pipes, joints none too tight, carried more odoriferous cargo. A drop of something foul splashed his shoulder. A rat ran across his foot. He took no notice of either. The stink of blood magic was stronger than any odor created by animal or human.
He inched his way along the ledge, senses alert and searching. Dusek would not want to limit his comings and goings to the streets above. There would be an entrance somewhere in this maze, he was sure.
He almost missed it. Shielded as it was by layer upon layer of magic, the portal was all but undetectable. In fact, he moved past without even recognizing the difference in the smooth stones and the joints between. But a few steps later, the hairs on his nape tingled as if someone were watching him from behind and he halted and turned. Eyes narrow, he picked out the line of a doorway gleaming through unmortared joints.
It took him several moments to find a way through the magical protections. As he worked, his uneasiness grew. Dusek had woven magic from no fewer than nine Watcher clans to create these wardings. Blast it to Oblivion. The Samyaza slave was not the only one Dusek had in his power. How many rival slaves had the alchemist collected?
The layer of Samyaza earth magic was last, and it was the most difficult to unravel. Artur was accustomed to commanding such power, not thwarting it. By the time the barrier fell, his leather coat stuck to his skin and sweat was dripping from his brow. A waft of chill air felt like a slap in the face.
He stepped into a very dark corridor. The space was much narrower than the sewer had been. The brick walls were close enough to touch on either side; a vaulted ceiling arched high overhead. A subtle red glow lit the far end of the passage. A haunting, echoing sob brushed his ears. A weeping woman? Grimly, Artur moved toward the sound.
The red light strengthened as he crept closer. There was no door at the end of the corridor, as he’d half expected. Only a sharp turn into a vibrant spill of light.
Artur kept his back tight to the wall as he eased around the corner. He stood at the top of a stairway. It descended in a steep slide of masonry into a miasma of blood magic. The force was very dense. Artur found he could not advance past the first tread of the stair, so he remained on the landing, a bitter taste staining the back of his throat. The magical aura of the place was deadening. His own magic felt far away, as if he were viewing it through the wrong end of a telescope.
Artur knew himself to be a hard, cruel man. There was no pretense to goodness in his demon nature. He’d done terrible things in his life, and he considered himself inured to the evil he perpetuated. Next to Vaclav Dusek he was an angel. In his arrogance, he hadn’t fully appreciated the vastness of his enemy’s power. He did now, and the knowledge sickened him. It was all he could do to summon enough power to peer through the gloom.
The room below him was perhaps thirty feet in diameter. In the center of the space a blue fire burned without any apparent fuel. A stone table like an altar rose beside the flames, and the slab bore dripping crimson stains. At the base, polished bones along with more complete remnants of a human body littered the floor.
Sobs drifted through the air like wraiths bound for Hell. The weeping came from prisoners—seven men and two women—secured at regular intervals around the perimeter of the chamber. Naked, bound by chains too short to allow them to stand upright, they cowered in the shadows, desperately trying, Artur thought, to avoid the notice of the three black clad men in their midst.
The three wore black collars identical to the ones Artur had seen on the two sons of Dusek in the palace above. So, three more sons of Vaclav Dusek. How many more were there? How many offspring had the bastard spawned?
Artur knew the alchemist had somehow found a way to extend his life past the maximum one hundred twenty years allotted to a Watcher. Artur didn’t know exactly how old Dusek was, but it was clear that he had been building his magic for centuries. Azazel’s heir spawned sons, enslaved them, and somehow increased his lifespan by adding their life essences to his own. Now he collected slaves of rival clans as well.
The power he was harvesting from these unfortunate rival adepts must be nearly endless. For the first time Artur truly understood the confidence behind his enemy’s arrogant challenge of Clan Samyaza. With his stolen magic, Dusek could wipe out his ancestral foes in one vicious swipe. Artur and his kin couldn’t hope to stand against him.
The knowledge churned Artur’s stomach like a rancid meal. It was obvious now that Artur and his kin were alive only because the alchemist had chosen to draw out the fight. He didn’t want a quick victory; he apparently preferred to play with his victims, as a cat plays with an injured mouse before devouring it whole. But at any time Dusek might grow tired of the game and make his final move to consign Artur’s heritage to Oblivion.
The sickening scene below illuminated Artur’s impotence. He could do nothing for the wretched c
aptives and yet he could not look away. Dusek’s sons were slaves, too, but they seemed of a much higher order than the other captives. Or perhaps their present sport was due to their sire’s absence.
One son tormented a chained male. The second applied a whip to the back of a female whom the third son approached. Her red hair was matted and dirty, her naked body covered with welts and bruises. Her chains forced her to kneel. Even so, she didn’t cower. Arthur could well imagine the filth the bastard would soon demand of her. Her chin lifted nonetheless.
The magic of the room was a deadening pall that Artur couldn’t pierce, though he tried. He couldn’t so much as read the source of the individual prisoners’ magic. Which captive was his kin? Was the Clan Samyaza slave here or suffering elsewhere in this hellish dungeon? Slow, impotent rage expanded in Artur’s gut. It seared every cell of his body, scoured the corners of his cold heart. The organ was left raw and bleeding as fresh horrors unfolded before him.
There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all except wait for Dusek’s next move.
“Here,” Ezreth said. “Now.”
He came down on top of Lilith, hurting her, pressing her into the ground. Trapping her with one broad leg thrown over both of hers, Ezreth shoved her robes up to her waist. His nostrils flared as he looked his fill. A sharp rock dug into Lilith’s spine.
“Stop,” she gasped. Her arms flailed but her fierce struggle moved him not at all.
“Fight me if you wish,” he said. “I do not mind.”
She watched with numb despair as he unbelted his robe and drew it aside. His shaft emerged, engorged and eager. She tried again to turn him away.
“If you do this foul thing, you will regret it. Father will—”
“He will give you to me.” The crimson aura about his head and shoulders blazed. One implacable knee forced itself between her legs.
“No.” Her fingers dug into the dirt on either side of her body. “He will not. He will . . .”
Her hand struck something warm. The amulet. The Seed of Life, centered by the bloodstone. She had all but forgotten it. In another heartbeat her brother would be inside her body; there was no time to think, no time to plan. Her fingers clenched on her only hope.
