by Ophelia Bell
Chapter Twenty-Two
Marcus cursed Nikhil for the millionth time, sure his brutal master must have known how this particular assignment would torture him. But there was no way his Sayid could have predicted the identities of the pair of men Belah would find. No way he could know that the fate of the woman Marcus loved now hung in the balance as surely as Belah hung suspended from the ropes in the center of Iszak and Lukas’s living room.
The sight should have been lewd and filthy—perhaps might have been to any outside observer—but thanks to the powers Marcus had been imbued with, he could read each bright emotion that wrapped itself around the trio. And as much as he rejoiced on behalf of his old friends finding the love of their life, he ached to have the freedom to experience what they felt in that moment. He ached to hold Evie in his arms like that just one more time.
If he did well tonight, perhaps he’d be given that chance, though the thought of destroying the beauty of the love that bloomed before him left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He had obeyed Nikhil’s command to follow Belah after their meeting in the park, in the very spot where Marcus had first set eyes on Evie North. He’d found Belah later that same night in a jazz club, but the second he’d stepped into the place, he’d been bombarded by memories.
Evie’s brother, Lukas, sat on stage, and the old shame Marcus had learned to live with for the last five decades came flooding back as though it were only yesterday. It was bad enough that he’d dodged the draft and fled to Canada, but to drag her with him, and into the clutches of a man who was the mortal enemy to her kind? He would never forgive himself for that.
He had to ignore the urge to reveal himself to the brothers—tell them the truth. That their sister lived. He couldn’t risk Nikhil finding out, and the man surely would if Marcus went that far. He refused to risk Evie’s life so recklessly. He had to hope that the Hail Mary of a chance he’d taken two years earlier would come to fruition—that somehow the Dragon Council had received the secret message he’d sent and would come to his aid.
Now that he knew they had—that the Void himself was looking for Evie at this very moment—it was all Marcus could do just to stay put, to continue carrying out Nikhil’s commands when all he wanted to do was go to her. Bust down the door to the cell that held his lover and be with her just once more before her true mate came and carried her away.
For the past few hours, he’d been at war with himself. He was on the verge of losing Evie, yet in the best way possible. She would be rescued, and he would be left behind to carry out his master’s wishes. Why should he do anything else? He’d have nothing without Evie—no reason to live, but no way to die, not unless Nikhil took mercy on him and put him out of his misery. He’d had enough close calls with dragons over the years to understand how indestructible he and his fellow Ultiori Elites were.
He longed to be with her now, yet had to see this assignment through and just hope he would have one more chance to see her before she was safe in the arms of the dragon who claimed she belonged to him.
Focusing again on the North brothers and the female between them, he simply watched. When they first began binding her, he’d been alarmed and considered betraying his presence to rescue her. His master wouldn’t want her to come to him damaged, after all. But his only frame of reference for a bound female was from the day he’d learned how grave a mistake he’d made, trusting Evie’s life to the Alexandria Institute. They’d both been bound and drugged, then separated. When Marcus had awakened, he’d been forever altered, and effectively a slave to his captor. He possessed power he’d never dreamed of, but was tethered to a man he hated, a man who held Evie’s welfare over his head like a sword of Damocles.
But Belah had encouraged the binding and clearly enjoyed it now, and Marcus finally understood why his master craved this woman so much. Nikhil’s particular preferences were no secret to his followers, least of all his Elites. Marcus, Naaz, and Sterlyn often had the unpleasant privilege of bearing witness to their master’s predilections. His gut churned at the unsavory memories he had of what all Nikhil’s female victims endured.
This Blue dragon had been the beginning. The first woman to encourage such things in the man. And yet the scene that unfolded before him didn’t reflect the horrors he had forced himself to become numb to.
Lukas and Iszak were tender lovers, despite Belah’s bound state. After what Marcus agreed was a very necessary round of atonement that Belah endured like a trooper, their behavior shifted drastically.
Especially after she revealed the truth of their sister’s life and her brother’s search.
They wanted nothing but to please her, and despite Marcus’s belief that this woman had somehow been behind the corruption of his master, his powers let him see her through the eyes of his old friends.
After first meeting Evie, Iszak and Lukas had become like brothers to Marcus. Having no family of his own anymore, they were all he had.
Their love for Belah shone so bright, Marcus grew increasingly conflicted over what he knew his master had planned. And yet he was helpless to do anything but obey.
The sharp tug on his consciousness constricted like a collar bound too tight, a reminder of his utter lack of freedom. He closed his eyes, abruptly slamming shut the door to his secret thoughts. The brief suspicion Nikhil displayed at least confirmed that Marcus still had something all his own.
“Sayid, I am here,” he sent immediately, having learned long ago to mentally stand at attention when even the barest hint of Nikhil’s presence marched into his mind.
“Report.”
“She is with a pair of lovers now, replenishing her energy.” He carefully omitted from his thoughts the truth of what he observed, choosing instead to imply that she was merely behaving as any hungry dragon might.
“Show me,” Nikhil demanded. Before Marcus could respond, his consciousness took a back seat while the other man’s eyes took over, unceremoniously shoving Marcus aside. Marcus was scarcely able to clear his mind of the many impressions he’d had of the scene before him, just barely managing complete neutrality before Nikhil commandeered his sight.
Extreme displeasure twisted Marcus’s gut—a reflection of what his master experienced at the sight of his long-lost lover in the arms of two other men.
Just as abruptly, Nikhil was gone, leaving Marcus dizzy and stumbling. Losing his balance, he fell backward into a tall bookshelf, making it rock precariously. He watched in horror as a piece of pottery wobbled on one of the high shelves and began to teeter over the edge, just out of reach.
He lunged for the object, caught it, and sagged in relief, but it was short-lived. A deafening crash came from farther away and he jerked around to see a pair of naked bodies fly through the air in opposite directions.
His master had arrived, and he wasn’t happy.
Marcus groaned inwardly and shed the magic that had kept him hidden from sight and awareness. As he approached the unconscious body of Iszak North, Sterlyn looked up from where he was busy binding Lukas to one of the sturdy, steel support posts nearby.
They shared a grim look before Marcus followed suit, grabbing a few of the many spare ropes Iszak had left strewn around the room and began tying the unconscious, naked man to another post.
Nikhil stood in front of Belah, staring down at her bound, naked flesh. Waves of lust flowed from him, enhanced by his rage. The combination was a potent mix, infecting Marcus until he realized Iszak’s wrists were bleeding from the force of the ropes cutting into his skin.
He cursed and loosened the bindings, retying them more carefully and silently asking Iszak to forgive him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Belah stared up into Nikhil’s face, defiant. She didn’t dare divert her gaze toward her unconscious lovers and betray that fresh weakness to this man. The scent of blood reached her from across the room, and it was all she could do not to tear free fr
om her bonds and go to whichever brother had been wounded in the tumult of Nikhil’s arrival. All she knew was that they lived, their fresh marks and her bond to them enough to calm her fears. She preferred they remain unconscious for the conversation she was about to have, anyway.
“I won’t go with you, Nikhil. Plans have changed.”
“I beg to differ, little beast. Finding you like this makes it even clearer how ready you are for me. Those two fools have primed you well—even better than your former pets once did. Remind me to thank them afterward for wrapping you up for me.”
He reached out a large, tanned hand and traced the edge of the ropes that criss-crossed beneath her collarbone.
Belah suppressed a flinch from his touch. She twisted her bound wrists behind her, intending to rip free of the ropes, but remembered Iszak had bound her with enchanted ropes she couldn’t break. She found she lacked the strength, or even the will to escape that dark gaze and the power Nikhil exuded.
His fingertips brushed upward along the side of her neck until he settled his palm at the front of her throat. Belah could only stare up at him, eyes wide as she swallowed, anticipating an action she had once begged for.
Nikhil only caressed her, stroking with thumb and fingers on either side of her throat while his other hand tested the ropes that still tethered her to the beams above.
As much as Belah had loved the way the ropes made her feel like Iszak and Lukas’s personal toy, now it felt like little more than a trap she’d been caught in, that the true predator had found her and was intent on playing with her before he devoured her whole.
Never moving his hand from her neck, Nikhil studied her bindings with open curiosity and even a measure of respect. He stood in place and slowly rotated her swinging body, one set of fingers following the lines of the ropes as though tracing the solution to a maze, while the other hand brushed warmly at her throat.
Once her back was to him, he made a low hum of appreciation, his fingers bumping down the ridged layer of ropes that coiled around her forearms, holding them against her lower back. His other hand slid back around to the front of her throat, strong fingers inching up to cup her jaw, fingertips digging into her cheeks as he forced her head back.
“I could take you now, little beast. Fuck you slowly until you reached that crest, then take you to your favorite place.” His words rumbled hotly in her ear, sending spasms through her body that had once been arousing, but now only left her numb.
Belah strained harder at the ropes, but was still unable to shed them. The fury drained from her, leaving behind a sick, quaking panic. She twisted frantically, but Nikhil only tightened his grip on her neck and hooked his fingers into the swath of silken cords that crossed her belly.
“No…” she croaked when the generous bulge of his cock dug into her backside.
“No? But you agreed to a week. Seven days, my ‘Iilahatan. Seven days for me to bind you to that altar I prepared and worship you. To show you that I never forgot what it means to kneel before a goddess like you, to offer up the blood and pain and darkness you crave. You still want that, yes? And when I’m done, I will take you to your son.”
My son. Belah closed her eyes against the tears. Only seven days—she had endured an eternity without the contact of a true lover, and had found an abundance of love in just the last few hours. Could she endure seven days of Nikhil’s punishment for the sake of her lost children? His very touch now made her wish she could close her spread thighs to counteract the feeling of vulnerability, but Iszak had bound her too well. Belah reminded herself that she had once loved what Nikhil had offered—his brutal strength and desire to inflict pain—the understanding that what she needed was an oblivion no other lover could offer—and the unquestioning willingness to fulfill every last dark craving she had.
It had been ages since she’d experienced the cravings she’d once had when she first took him as her lover—when she’d agreed to marry him. Yet she would endure anything if it meant being reunited with her babies.
Zorion and Asha were out there somewhere—lost to her and in the clutches of this madman. If all it took were seven days of being inflicted with his darkness, she would endure. She just hoped her mates would still want her when Nikhil was done with her.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her tears flowed freely and the skin beneath his fingers was slick with them when he tightened his grip around her throat. She was grateful for the darkness that closed in around her as her consciousness faded. She could not bear being taken by him otherwise.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Marcus and Sterlyn shared a grim look when the female lost consciousness in their master’s grip. Hatred gnawed at Marcus’s gut—for himself and his weakness, as much as for the man who’d kept him on his knees for the last fifty years. He hated that he didn’t dare intervene on behalf of the female dragon—Lukas and Iszak’s mate. But to do so would condemn their sister, and he would die before letting anything worse happen to Evie. Belah had survived this man once—she would survive him again.
Without a word, Nikhil reached out a freshly bloodied palm to Sterlyn and the other Elite went to him, obedient as always. Sterlyn’s own lover was locked up in a cell as well. Neither Marcus nor his brother Elites had a choice but to do Nikhil’s bidding, or else risk their loved ones coming to grave harm. Their Sayid made sure they knew it well.
Within a split second of Sterlyn grasping his master’s hand and their fresh blood mingling, they were gone—fading into the drift—and the naked, unconscious woman along with them, ropes and all.
Marcus stared at the empty space for a long time, grinding his teeth and seething. Soon the utter silence shocked him out of his mood.
It wasn’t just the room that was silent. His mind was, too. He blinked at his reflection in the windows, afraid to test the foreign feeling of having his mind completely to himself again for the first time in ages. And yet it was. The itch of having a second consciousness creeping around inside his brain had disappeared, along with his master.
There was one way he could test it—one way he could be sure Nikhil was no longer lurking. Marcus risked closing his eyes and drawing forth the image of Evie. Her beauty filled his mind—her creamy skin and beautiful voice. Dark eyes, framed by even darker lashes, peered up at him full of love. Her slight, delicate body was soft in his arms, her skin burned several degrees warmer than his—she had always felt feverish. And before his eyes her glorious wings spread, soft feathers shimmering, silver, gold, and copper in the sunlight. It was a manufactured image—part memory of their first meeting, and part memory of their last time together when she’d unfurled her wings while they made love.
Marcus held his breath, waiting with dread for his favorite image of Evie to corrupt. For her beautiful feathers to be coated in her own blood. He’d had one night with her in fifty years. He thought they’d gotten away with it, but Nikhil had found out afterward, tortured Evie, and threatened Marcus with her death if he ever dared go near her again without Nikhil’s permission.
Ever since that night, even bringing to mind his most treasured memories of her would devolve into images of her torture—visions he’d never actually seen with his own eyes, but that he knew were true. Every time he pictured that night, he’d hear Nikhil’s voice and the things he’d said to Evie while he hurt her.
The bloody visions didn’t come this time.
A rough groan from behind Marcus dampened his joy. He’d been ready to go to her right then—to take advantage of the unexpected freedom from his mental shackles and be with her once more. Instead, he turned and met the enraged looks of the two men who probably hated him the most in all the world, and who would likely hate him even more after what he had to tell them now.
Marcus gritted his teeth and faced Evie’s brothers.
“Where the fuck did that bastard take her?!” Iszak snarled, straining at his bindings.
Lukas s
hook his head and spat blood onto the floor. “When I get out of here, I’m fucking destroying you, Marcus.”
“I guess you really don’t want to be untied, then, do you?” Marcus asked. “Because fuck if I’m going to let you out after a threat like that. Not that either of you could hurt me any more than you could hurt my master, if you found him. I did you guys a favor by tying you up. Interfere with his plans for your mate, and he’ll kill you.”
A chilly breeze blew past, cooling the sweat on his skin that had sprung up earlier when he’d first tied Iszak to the post. The window panes creaked from some storm battering at them outside. Behind him, one of them gave way, its latch springing free and the hinges squealing when it flew open with a crash that shattered the glass.
Cold, wet wind hit his back hard enough to plaster his shirt to his skin—hard enough to throw him off balance, if he were any other man. The furniture was pushed several inches across the floor from the force of the wind, but Marcus stayed put, staring down both North brothers in turn.
“Un-fucking-tie us if you don’t want to be ripped apart by the wind, you fuck,” Lukas said.
“I will, but not until you listen to me. Belah wasn’t lying about Evie, and you know it. You know what else she wasn’t lying about? How much I would give to make sure your sister’s safely away from that bastard. I didn’t become what I am willingly. He made me this, and I have to come to terms with that. But that doesn’t mean she has to keep suffering. If you want your sister back, you have to promise me you’ll come with me tonight to get her out. Say yes and I’ll untie you both and take you to Evie now.”
“But Belah,” Iszak growled. “He has her.”
Marcus shot the bound man a wan smile. “He does, doesn’t he? And you haven’t ever had the pleasure of witnessing what he does to every single female Blue dragon he captures.”
