The slap to the back of his head caught Ian by surprise as much as it did everyone else. Hell, even the one who had dealt it was standing there staring at his hand with the most perplexed expression Dyletri had ever seen.
Ian growled as his sister laughed. “Zen, what the fuck?”
Zen was still staring at his hand like he thought it was possessed. Obviously, he had no idea what the fuck had just happened. Dyletri cringed, feeling sorry for the guy.
“All right, ladies!” Liz called out. “Show me what you got!”
Ismini and Evesse began circling each other.
Ian whistled under his breath. “Holy shit.”
“You will remain quiet throughout the entirety of this. Got it?” Dyletri growled the warning under his breath.
Ian eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Oh. You, too, huh?”
Me, too? What the flying fuck did that mean?
Dyletri didn’t have another second to ponder that because next thing he knew, Evesse ran at Ismini. His attention was riveted as Ismini moved and the two went at each other with equal fury.
Evesse slid low on the ground as she got close to Ismini. Ismini jumped high, avoiding the leg Evesse kicked out by twirling in the air in a move that made him proud. She landed, then advanced on Evesse while her back was turned.
Evesse ducked and threw a well-executed punch at Ismini in return. Blocking it with her forearm, Ismini retaliated and almost caught Evesse with a left uppercut.
Evesse darted out of the way, but Ismini came after her, aiming punch after punch, ducking, swinging. She grabbed Evesse’s wrist as her fist came close and kicked a leg out, aiming at Evesse’s ribs. Evesse managed to evade her, grunting when Ismini’s leg connected hard with her arm instead.
Both girls rushed forward, and the resulting collision sent their bodies back and away from each other. That didn’t stop them. They stared each other down, panting while their eyes moved over each other, both of them looking for an opening.
They didn’t linger for long, both seeming to know that any further delay could prove a weakness.
Ian whistled through his teeth as they went at it again. Dyletri wanted to smack Ian himself this time, except he couldn’t force his eyes away from the way Ismini’s ass looked in those pants as she moved.
Holy . . .
She flipped back onto her hands as Evesse threw a roundhouse kick at her head. Ismini cartwheeled twice to get away. When she stopped, for the split second her arms were still above her head, the corset was raised high on her midsection.
All Dyletri could see were abs. Tight, delicate, feminine abs.
He couldn’t blink. Couldn’t even think. He wasn’t even aware of himself until Nythi nudged him in the side. Her dark blue brows were furrowed, and she pointed at his exposed arm with a confused look on her face.
Shit. Shit. Shit . . . and fucking shit. There it was again. He’d convinced himself he’d somehow imagined it before.
His fucking veins. He could see them glowing even though it was daylight outside. Everyone would know if they saw it. They’d know what it meant.
He fucking knew what it meant! There was only one reason for his powers to be showing themselves. That reason was lust, plain and simple.
Nythi obviously knew this, as well. She knew, after millennia, why his powers were showing themselves.
Shaking, Dyletri turned away from her; from everyone. He decided to run away like the coward he was. He rushed back into the compound, trying to escape the truth of what was happening to him.
Trying to escape what it meant.
In the last ten thousand, eight hundred and forty-two years, no woman had caused such a reaction in him. Not one. He knew it meant that the very thing he had worked so hard to push back was coming back to life. Itching and clawing at the locks he’d so carefully placed. His purpose was reawakened, and it was demanding to be impaled.
Within Ismini.
Within her body.
Within her very soul.
His powers and his hunger for her were dissolving his sanity. Dyletri needed to get away from Ismini - and stay away until the day came.
He also knew it might not be so easy this time.
Chapter 10
Exhausted and soaked in sweat, Ismini returned to her room in the medical wing after her sparring match with Evesse. She had refused to leave in the week since she’d arrived, wanting to be on the same level as Vedlyl in case the thing inside her snapped free. Which it constantly felt like it was about to do.
She felt like she was slowly losing her mind and didn’t know how Nylicia had lived in such torment for so long. For a being like her, Ismini could only imagine what a “long time” meant. The thought made her cringe as she walked toward the bathroom with every intention of having a nice, long shower.
Instead, a white-hot burn shot through the base of her neck near her shoulder and knocked her off her feet.
She gasped, the pain so intense it sent her straight to the floor, where she was unable to do anything but curl into a ball and bite down on her screams. It felt like the artery in her neck was trying to expand, swelling like a balloon about to pop. Almost as if the thing in her chest had heated her blood to the point of boiling, and sent her poor heart into overdrive.
Ismini rocked back and forth, clutching her neck until Vedlyl rushed in. He knelt beside her, then gently lifted her and placed her on the bed.
“Hold on, Ismini,” Vedlyl said. “It will be over soon.”
Fucking liar.
The burning was just the beginning, and when it did stop, Ismini had a big problem on her hands.
“It’s the mark. I’m sorry.”
Ismini’s chest tightened with dread when she saw that Vedlyl’s eyes were focused on her neck. She shot off the bed before he could stop her and rushed to the first mirror she found. It was a mark, all right. A small intricate design—almost like a silver and blue filigree—had appeared on her skin.
It scared the hell out of her.
She met Vedlyl’s eyes in the mirror, trembling. “What . . . why is it there?”
“In a normal mating, that’s where your mate would drink from you. And it’s the same spot where he would have a mark for you to drink from if he were mated to you.”
Ismini’s nostrils flared slightly. “Vampires? You’re fucking telling me you guys are like vampires?”
Vedlyl laughed, seeming unable to stop himself. “Well, those are out there, in many different variations of the species. As for us? We can crave and drink blood, yes. Usually, however, when we crave someone’s blood, it’s because we want to mate with them.”
Ismini’s eyes grew wide. Her mind rushed back to that first night in the alley, to the way Dyletri had seemed to sprout fangs when he’d stared at her, hunger written all over his gorgeous face.
“Only then?” she asked.
“Yes.” Vedlyl met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror and looking like as if he knew she was holding something back.
She shook her head, trying to push back the thoughts running rampant thanks to Vedlyl’s words. It wasn’t possible. There was no way in hell Dyletri wanted to make her his mate. But then the memory of his hungry face flashed over and over again in her mind’s eye.
It took everything in her to shake off that image and focus on the beautiful but damning evidence of what was happening to her.
“Ismini . . . is there something wrong?”
“How do I hide it?” she asked.
“You concentrate on keeping it hidden. Same as you do with all your other symptoms.”
It took her a few tries, but she succeeded. The mark slowly faded back into her skin.
“Thank you, Vedlyl.”
“You are quite welcome, Ismini.”
The look Vedlyl gave her was pure sympathy. Ismini swallowed her resentment. He meant well—of course he did—and as friends went, she loved him for all he was doing for her. That didn’t mean she had to like the pity she saw in his eyes.
With a small shake of her head, she stepped away from the mirror.
“I . . . I need some time alone.”
Vedlyl all but bowed to her. “Of course. If you need anything . . .”
Gods. The man was enough to melt any woman, and it wasn’t just his boyish face or the rock hard lines on his massive body. “Thank you so much. I can never say it enough.”
Vedlyl straightened and nodded. “It is my purpose. And no one deserves what you’re going through. Please, don’t hesitate to search me out.”
Ismini watched Vedlyl walk out, her eyes watering. Furious with herself, she blinked back the tears and sat on her bed. She should have been afraid of seeing Dyletri again, but she was getting kind of tired of being afraid. She felt frustration, anger, but most of all, futility.
Next time she saw Dyletri, she was going to have to somehow keep calm and focused. The last thing she wanted him to see was the mark. If she ever saw the pity she’d seen in Vedlyl’s eyes within Dyletri’s, she just might lose her fucking mind and hurt someone. No, she was going to find a way to keep that mark hidden at all costs.
She walked down one of the statue-lined hallways, her thoughts as messed up as they’d been the day before. Something was wrong with him. Something Ismini couldn’t figure out but was eating at her nonetheless.
Dyletri had been acting weird ever since he’d returned the day before. Actually, he’d been acting weird since their encounter the day that Evesse had arrived. He’d nearly killed her then, without even knowing it, and just disappeared.
The worst part? Once her symptoms had been controlled so that they no longer threatened her life, she’d done what he’d asked. Dyletri’s words had stayed with her while she recovered. They had haunted her, echoing in her ear and demanding that she make herself come for him.
And she had. The Gods help her, she had. It had taken everything in her not to scream out her pleasure and agony for all of Enzyria to hear. But she’d freaking wanted to.
A part of her wanted Dyletri to find out. Ismini wanted him to know she’d obeyed his demand. But what type of person did that make her? He loved someone else. Someone Ismini had come to care about, as messed up as that might have been.
Blame intervening little Nylicia for that, thank you very much.
Nylicia had not only given Ismini Dimithinia’s old “diary,” but she’d shown Ismini glimpses of what Dimithinia had been like before being driven insane by Fate and Destiny. Dimithinia had never been a bad person. She’d been one of those few people who was truly good and got fucked over by her circumstances.
She’d been handed over to the ruler of her lands the moment she turned sixteen. It was the beginning of what would be a tragic end. Beaten and raped on her wedding night, the old man she’d married had taken out on Dimithinia something that wasn’t her fault. The emperor Maleksoraniel had been too old, even by ancient standards, to inspire any passion in Dimithinia.
Ismini found that understandable.
Maleksoraniel’s advanced age had made it impossible for him to impregnate Dimithinia, but as men of that time had been wont to do, he’d blamed her.
He’d also had her watched like a criminal. The idea of sharing her beauty with any man enraged him. Dimithinia couldn’t even go out and have an affair to get pregnant, and with every month that passed and she continued to bleed, the abuse got worse.
Desperate, Dimithinia resorted to the only thing a woman in her situation could do back then. She called down Salicyar, the God of Fertility. His job had been simple. He would have sex with a women who couldn’t conceive, and the next time she coupled with a man, regardless of the man’s health, she would become pregnant.
So Dyletri had gone to Dimithinia, and though he was merely doing his duty, he’d been the first man to show her any kindness. When she had failed to become pregnant after sleeping with him, he decided to return and try again. He had returned to her a total of three times over a period of four months.
Each time, he’d failed.
Nylicia had put it simply when explaining this to Ismini: It hadn’t been Dimithinia’s destiny to bear Maleksoraniel a child.
Around the time Dimithinia had discovered Dyletri was still fulfilling his duties and sleeping with other women in her kingdom, she went mad. It happened quickly, and no one saw the signs. One day she was fine, and the next she just . . . snapped. In her insanity, she sought young women in her kingdom and murdered them as a sacrifice.
No, not only a sacrifice. A message. One that was heard loud and clear.
Dimithinia was added to the list of humans the Aviraji intended to use as an example. Their bullshit excuse for the war they’d decided to start. In reality, they just wanted their enemies, the Szolites, weakened enough to destroy them, and they’d almost succeeded.
Dyletri had agreed to have Ismini sacrificed right before the war began. He’d wanted to make up for what he’d “allowed” to happen, in his opinion. He hadn’t been able to stand the thought of Dimithinia not having another chance at life after what she’d gone through.
He’d made a deal with the Fates, and Ismini thought he must have loved Dimithinia big time to have come to such a decision. Of course, Nylicia had let it slip that he’d also arranged the sacrifice at her urging because it was destined.
But what difference did that make?
Ismini wanted to bang her head into one of the marble pillars lining the halls. She was twisting herself into knots over things that, in the end, didn’t matter. She was still destined to die, so why obsess over it?
Fuck. She knew why. She just couldn’t help herself.
She needed to remind herself why Dyletri made the choices he did, and just who he belonged to. Because whatever was going on with him, it was confusing the ever living hell out of her.
As she walked toward one of the archways leading to the balcony, she had to admit she wasn’t imagining things. Dyletri seemed to want her almost as badly as she wanted him. He’d waited eleven thousand years, not touching another woman since Dimithinia. So what had changed?
And was Ismini trying to figure this out because she needed an excuse to give into what she felt? Because, if she were honest with herself, what she felt for Dyletri wasn’t only because of the mating.
Ismini wandered past an ornate mirror on her way outside. She stopped and fingered her neck, turning it back and forth, examining the skin there and thinking about how incredibly fucked she was. Keeping her mark hidden was damned near impossible. Whenever Dyletri was even within half a mile of her—which was all the freaking time—her neck burned in a way that made the ache in her chest seem like child’s play.
The heat thrumming beneath that one piece of skin caused Ismini to break into a sweat. It was so bad that Evesse had noticed and told Ismini all about this “phenomenon” she’d read about called “early menopause.” Ismini almost slapped the bitch.
Really. She loved Evesse, but sometimes the girl just . . . ugh.
Ismini stepped away from the mirror, convinced her mark was hidden. She continued and walked onto the balcony that wrapped around half the compound, as they called it.
To Ismini, it seemed like a gigantic mansion, or a temple even, but it was their home. Who was she to argue?
She marveled at the beauty of the night. She had learned that the artificial daylight of this realm had been a gift from the god who’d created it. Ianthen had told Ismini the god’s name was Zexistr and that he was one of the ultimate gods, if not the main one.
The God of Existence, they called him, and with a name like that, Ismini was more than a little afraid to meet him. Not that she had to worry. Unless he chose to visit within the next week or so, she’d never have the chance. Even if her days weren’t numbered, she’d learned from Cy that Zex spent most of his time in the mortal plane—on Earth—or in another dimension with his daughter and her “bitch of a mother”.
Those words had seemed harsh, but then Cy—who was related to Zex in one way or another—explained that the
mother of Zex’s daughter was the Goddess of Illusions and therefore a lying, selfish, childlike female. There was more to it than he’d told her, but the expression on Cy’s face had made her wary of delving any further.
Shaking her head, Ismini looked out over the night and tried to will her body to cool down. Enzyria was always a pleasant, springlike temperature, which did nothing or to help her endeavor.
She’d tried showering in ice cold water, too, but it hadn’t helped. In fact, between the showers and her mated hormones, her nipples were threatening rebellion.
Her pussy was, too, but she’d already abused her bullet. And no matter how many orgasms she gave herself, the deep, yearning emptiness inside her seemed to grow worse.
Something caught Ismini’s attention, making her turn her head. There was a low sound coming from her far right, and as soon as she took two steps toward it, she knew what it was. Her whole body roared to life, and before she knew it, the mating rushed up on her and she was moving.
Ismini walked the length of the balcony with light but hurried steps. She made it halfway around the circumference of the compound when the moonlight illuminated a figure she’d come to recognize so well.
Dyletri stood in front of the stone balcony railing, staring off into the night. Ismini knew she should walk away, but something in his expression made it impossible.
His shoulders were slumped forward. He looked exhausted in a way that no being like him should have been. Even taking into account the moonlight reflecting off his white hair, Ismini could tell he was too pale.
Worry got the best of her, and before she had a chance to think better of it, she was approaching him and calling out his name.
“Dyletri?”
His entire body went rigid. So much that Ismini feared for a second that he was on the verge of jumping right off the balcony. There was something about him that throbbed with energy, but the way he seemed to tremble and refused to acknowledge her had her taking one more cautious step forward.
“Are you okay?” Ismini knew she couldn’t hide the worry.
He glanced toward her, most of his face hidden in shadow. She tried to keep her distance, she really did, but her body was rebelling against her in the worst way. Next thing Ismini knew, she was walking closer to him again and the closer she got, the more she saw that he was, in fact, trembling.
Blood Flows Deep in the Empire Page 8
