by Ophelia Bell
His fingertips feathered over her sore back, tracing what she knew were raised, red welts that tingled pleasantly when he touched them. The truth was that she had enjoyed the whipping. She enjoyed being bound and at his mercy. The surrender was as liberating as ever. The only difference was that her reaction didn’t extend to any erogenous zone whatsoever. It was therapeutic, but only in the most abstract way. The depth of feeling Nikhil hoped to drill into her simply wasn’t happening. She took no carnal pleasure in his touch.
He unfastened her cuffs and bodily flipped her over, then recuffed her wrists and ankles so that she faced him. In her mind, she replayed the promise she had made Iszak and Lukas.
“I will take pleasure in no other partner without your leave until Fate decrees my days on this earth are done.”
Those words, combined with the power of her bond to the brothers, were more than enough to prevent her body from ever finding sexual pleasure in another man’s touch.
It wouldn’t work, but Nikhil was unwilling to hear any more protests from her as the ball gag so obviously indicated.
She could only watch and will herself to be patient with him while he worked it out on her body. With any luck, the pain would exhaust him soon, and he’d allow her to speak again.
He came toward her with a pair of familiar objects, a look of determination on his face. “These were your favorites before. Let’s see how they work today.”
Nikhil lowered to his knees in front of her and wrapped one barbed band around her upper thigh. As he cinched it and the tiny teeth on the inside of the leather dug into her skin, she let out a low moan of recognition. These two little bands had been an irreplaceable part of her wardrobe for so long, but had been among all the earthly possessions she had no use for in the Glade.
Belah stared down at him, her eyes watering from the exquisite pain and no doubt betraying her excitement at being reintroduced to such perfect sensation. Nikhil’s own eyes reflected her excitement. When he tightened the second band, his fingers strayed up her inner thigh and brushed against her bare labia.
A disappointed frown washed the excitement away when he spread her folds and found her dry.
Still, that didn’t stop him. He rose again and went to the chest, returning with a small wooden box.
“You are missing a few things. I removed these from you on our wedding night with the promise I would return them afterward, but I never had the chance. Now is time.”
He opened the box, revealing a trio of golden scarabs attached to small hoops, a gift he had given her early in their love affair so long ago. That had been the day he learned that her skin could not be broken by any human implement, but a needle tempered by her own fire would do the trick. It was one of many secrets she should never have allowed him to know without marking him first—one of many foolish mistakes she had made for this man who should never have been hers.
She wanted what he offered, and wished that this time her body would react the way he hoped, if only to appease him once more before she had to tell him the truth—that she could never be with him again because it was not part of Fate’s plan for her.
The needle he wielded pierced true, just as it had the day she’d anointed it in her fire. Moments later, the fresh weight of the scarabs pulled ever so slightly at her nipples, and between her thighs at the hood of her clitoris.
And still her body failed to become aroused.
The frustration and rage Nikhil had managed to contain so far spilled out. He tore across the room and bent before the chest, tossing its contents out onto the floor. Belah could only watch, mute and horrified at the bleeding stripes that adorned his back—a macabre reflection of the sweet torture he’d inflicted on her, and evidence of how much he was willing to endure for this futile quest.
She made a desperate sound around the gag, her chest aching for his pain. Summoning her power, she exhaled through her nose and sent the power to Nikhil. She may not have been able to share any pleasure with him, but surely her magic would work to ease his pain the way it used to.
The cloud of blue smoke blanketed his back and wrapped around him, sinking into every bit of flesh she knew must hurt, including the reddened stripes of flesh around his thighs. His body visibly sagged with the relief and he turned back to her, his eyes haunted now.
“What am I to do, ’Iilahatan?” He came toward her again, plodding slowly as he scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. “You are the only female I have ever wished to bear my child. I’ve spent most of my life trying to make that child come to be without you—I have tried to recreate a version of you from your blood. I’ve built the most advanced laboratories in human existence, just for the sake of finding ways to bring that child into this world, but none of my efforts have borne fruit. Now that you are back, I hoped we could make the child the way we were meant to, but that isn’t meant to be, either, it seems.”
His words roughened and his eyes darted away from hers as he unbuckled the gag and tossed it aside, then moved to release her from the cross. When her hands were free, Belah gripped the sides of his head.
“Hope isn’t lost, Nikhil. If you would just let me go—let this insane pursuit of yours go and just be a man again—Fate may smile on you.”
“No. I’m not ready to give up.” He pulled away and released her feet, then rose and tossed her robe to her.
Belah followed him to the other room, where an expertly concealed kitchen was now visible. It seemed there was an entire apartment’s worth of space there, filled with modern conveniences similar to her hosts’, though Erika and Geva’s residence had definitely appeared more lived-in than this stark and shining space.
“You must be hungry,” he said, pulling various foodstuffs out of a large refrigerator. “If we can’t make love, we may as well eat.”
“I don’t think seducing me with food will work any better than the whip did,” Belah said, though the sight and smell of all the sumptuous dishes he produced definitely made her wonder.
He shoved a bowl of fruit in front of her and she raised her eyebrows. “Really? You used to have me kneel at your feet and feed me from your own plate. Am I not still your cherished pet? Your little beast? Are you sure you haven’t really given up?”
He gave her an irritated look, then sighed and went back into the other room for a moment. When he returned, he unceremoniously clapped a golden cuff around her throat and attached a heavy chain to the clasp in the front. With the chain wrapped around his hand, he grabbed several dishes and tugged her to the nearby table.
Belah shed her robe again and followed, obediently kneeling the way she used to when Nikhil sat. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her with a defeated look.
“Why are you trying?” he asked. He plucked a grape from a bunch and toyed with it for a moment before pressing it lightly to her lips. She opened and let the small fruit roll into her mouth, savoring the burst of cool, sweet juices when she bit into it.
“Despite your fears to the contrary, I did love you then. I treasured you and everything you did for me. Not a day has passed since I regained consciousness that I didn’t regret leaving you behind, even though it was beyond my control. You became what you did because of me. I would do anything to change that. If being your little beast again helps, I will do it. If I need to be your goddess instead, I will do that.”
“But you won’t let yourself want me again, will you? I am incomplete without you, don’t you understand that? And none of this …” He swept his hand out to indicate the food, then down at her naked body. “None of this fucking works. It’s all bullshit, Belah. I have no goddamn use for the world if I can’t have you.”
“You have me for seven days, Nikhil. You were willing to accept that before. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
He plucked another grape and fed it to her. Sighing, he left his thumb against her lower lip and drank in her fac
e, as though starved for the sight of her.
“I’m not accustomed to ceding victory, little beast. Don’t ask me to do that yet. At least let me believe I might win for a few more days. And if I have to lose, then I can think of no more worthy opponent to surrender to.”
Belah opened her mouth for another morsel of food. She would play the role of the obedient pet, if it helped ease his mind for the time being. But at the end of the week, he would have to admit defeat.
Her heart ached for him. Nikhil had never lost a battle when he served as her general. Since his rise to power as the Ultiori leader, he’d ended the lives of so many dragons, as well as those of all the other races. If kneeling before him for seven days could change that, she had to try.
But at the end of the week, Belah knew she might have to decide whether to sacrifice the knowledge she sought for the safety of all the races and their children. She had to be prepared to kill him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The second journey was as disorienting as the first. Iszak managed to avoid retching at the end of it, but that may only have been because he’d left all the contents of his stomach back in Nikhil’s penthouse. The thought was oddly gratifying, until he caught sight of his grandmother.
The sight that greeted him was not his Nanyo’s usual diminutive wizened visage. Sophia North was one of the oldest, most powerful turul seeresses, and power as strong as hers had preserved the woman’s true appearance. Iszak knew as much, but wasn’t prepared for the woman who greeted them when they arrived. She normally presented an illusion of a sweet, little old lady to the outside world. As a result, Iszak and his brother were rarely granted the sight of her in her element.
On any other day, she might be seated in her comfortable armchair, reading a book and humming along to whatever music she had playing on her old phonograph. Today she appeared as a statuesque matron, with shining black curls pinned back with tortoiseshell combs, and smooth, glowing olive skin. She greeted them from the windowed alcove at the edge of her living room, standing at full height with her hands clasped serenely in front of her. The cool directness of her gaze told Iszak she’d been expecting them, and likely already knew exactly why they were there.
He braced himself for the cryptic conversation he knew was imminent.
Instead, his grandmother’s face broke into a warm smile, her eyes lighting up in response to something behind Iszak’s right shoulder. Confused by the unexpected shift in her demeanor, he turned to see Marcus bowing low—so low he was practically groveling.
Iszak raised an eyebrow, wondering why the man hadn’t bothered groveling for him and his brother.
“Marcus, child, it’s so good to see you whole,” their grandmother said. She opened her arms wide. “Come, my dear. It’s been too long.”
Marcus obediently stepped forward between Iszak and Lukas. Lukas watched him pass with as much surprise as Iszak.
They observed mutely while Marcus accepted their grandmother’s embrace, murmuring what sounded like words of sincere apology for staying away so long.
“Nonsense,” Sophia replied. “You and my granddaughter followed the path you were meant to follow. There should be no apologies. You must return to her now, though. My grandsons’ journey is their own. Go, child. She is waiting for you.”
Marcus turned back to Iszak and Lukas and reached out a hand. In his eyes, Iszak read the very same desperation he himself felt to be reunited with the woman he loved. But along with it came a look of utter defeat that made no sense, if Marcus was indeed about to go back to be with Evie.
He gripped Marcus’s offered hand uncertainly. “What is it? Evie’s safe like you said, isn’t she? We’ll come find you both as soon as we get Belah back, I can promise you that.”
Marcus gave him a curt nod. “She is, but we all know she was never mine to keep. You have to come quickly—the second Nikhil gets wind that I’ve betrayed him, he’ll take it out on me, so I want her well away from the place by then. If you guys succeed in getting Belah away from him, he won’t be happy.”
“Brother, if we succeed, nobody will have to worry about that bastard again, least of all you and Evie.”
Marcus’s lips tightened into a hard line. “I wish I believed you, but I know better by now. The man is indestructible, and easily the strongest creature on the planet. Your wind couldn’t move me earlier, thanks to the immortal blood he’s been feeding me for the last five decades. He’s been living on the stuff for thousands of years.”
Immortal blood. The icy lump returned to Iszak’s belly, and he remembered the groove in the floor beneath the cross in Nikhil’s penthouse.
“I don’t care how long he’s lived. His life is ending tonight if Belah has so much as a paper cut when we get to her. Go be with Evie—let us deal with that bastard.”
Marcus squeezed his hand, gave Lukas a nod, and disappeared with a soft pop.
When Iszak turned back to his grandmother, the diminutive, bird-like woman he was used to stood before them in place of the more intimidating figure that had greeted them.
“How do we get to her, Nanyo? And more importantly, how do we kill him?”
Without a word, she held out a hand and opened it, palm up. Resting in the center was a small, cylindrical vial encased in silver filigree that had grown tarnished with age. Iszak reached out for it, but his grandmother held it back with a shake of her head.
“I give you this under one condition: when you reach her, you must take her and leave. Do not risk your lives over vengeance. Every moment wasted is a moment closer to death. She is the key to ending his life, and as the being who was most instrumental in giving him that life, she is the one to choose whether to take it away. You may not deny her that choice, grandsons.”
Her fist remained closed as Iszak regarded her. She stepped closer to him and Lukas and reached up her free hand, brushing her fingertips over the side of his neck. The fresh dragon mark tingled under her touch. She did the same to Lukas, the intricate pattern glowing with a pulsing rhythm that matched the throbbing vein in his brother’s throat.
Lukas appeared on the verge of implosion. For their entire lives, their grandmother had tested their resolve, yet despite all her tricks and games and cryptic words, they both knew better than to deny the woman’s power.
“Tell us how to get to her, Nanyo.”
“Promise me, Iszak. You too, Lukas. If you want to keep her and the child quickening in her belly, you will do as I request.”
Iszak blinked and shared a quick look with Lukas. Impossible. It had only been a short time since they’d both made love to her while marked—they hadn’t even shared breath to complete the turul mating ritual.
“I don’t understand …”
Sophia interrupted him by turning and calling out, “Oszkar! Come talk to your cousins for a moment!”
Iszak and Lukas turned at the sound of one of the back bedroom doors creaking open. A scowling Ozzie trudged down the photograph-lined hallway. He looked half drunk and in no mood for company.
“I can’t believe you’re encouraging the fools, Nanyo. You know as well as I do who the woman is. You’re gonna get them both killed.”
“Nonsense,” she said, waving her hand. “I just need you to tell them what you told me of the conversation you overheard between the Beast and her former master.”
Ozzie snorted and met Iszak’s gaze. “See? Even she calls her ‘the Beast.’ Shouldn’t that clue you in to what you’re getting into?”
“Doesn’t matter, Oz. She’s the One. So what the fuck have you got to tell us, anyway?”
Ozzie shrugged and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “She promised him a week. A week to do whatever he wishes with her in exchange for information about where her kid is. You got that part, right? Her son. In other words, she’s no virgin. What makes you think she’ll be the least bit invested in having your babies?”
Lukas cursed under his breath, but Iszak’s skin had gone ice cold. His words caught in his throat like a lump of jagged ice. She had agreed to be with that monster for a week.
No. She wouldn’t have willingly gone with him. But he hadn’t seen whether she had struggled or not when the Ultiori leader took her. He looked at Lukas, who seemed to be having the same thought.
“She marked us … I can’t believe she’d have gone … and … fuck, man, she was tied with those ropes. She was helpless. We left her helpless. She wouldn’t have had a choice.”
Iszak closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing away the painful knot in his throat.
“She made that promise to him before she met us. And she told us about her children … we know exactly what’s at stake for her. We told her we would help her find them. I don’t give a fuck how much time she promised him. We’re going to get her back. What do you have for us, Nanyo?”
His grandmother opened her palm again and held up the vial.
“This contains two droplets of nymphaea blood. Their blood is tied to the rivers of time and can take you to her, but only if you let your own blood flow once this is in your veins. Just be prepared to find she’s been away from you longer than it seems—I can sense the babe now, for my grandchild is my own blood, too—and it has been more than a day since its power has manifested. Belah’s master would have ensured he was given the time he was promised.”
Iszak went to take the vial, but she pulled it back again. “Let me,” she said.
She pulled the tiny stopper and held the vial up over his lips. A clear, sparkling droplet hung from the end, poised to drop.
“Open.”
Iszak did as commanded, and a second later the liquid hit his tongue. She was already in front of Lukas, holding it up again while Iszak processed the strange sensation that coursed through him. This foreign magic made him dizzy and a little nauseous, but the feeling soon passed.
