Page 33

Chapter

Thirty-Two

DAGHEL

T he cell door opens, and I scent her—I taste her on the air itself—before she even enters my prison. Before I can even set eyes on her. She is nervous and a little frightened, and from the corner of my eye I see that she is trembling as she steps inside.

“Daghel?”

I turn my head toward her and smile, pleasure humming through me. “Yes, my wyva ?”

Her head cocks as she across the cell, and I can feel her gaze appraising me as it slides over me. “You are naked,” she observes with surprise.

“Ajek thought it would be entertaining. Perhaps it can be if you are so inclined.”

She freezes there in the middle of my cell, her eyes widening for just a moment, betraying her surprise and sorrow, before her expression shutters completely. “You are not Daghel.”

I chuckle in delight. The others were not so quick to catch on, much to their demise, but she is both right and wrong. Even now, as past and present, as the threads of reality and memories that separate Durethikal and Daghel are coming more and more together, I am only truly beginning to understand. “But I am… but I am also more.”

She shakes her head, her upper teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “I don’t understand. Are you some kind of parasite… a terrible thing possessing him?” Her brow furrows as she searches my eyes, and I smile in response. She is so close to hitting on the truth. Of course my mate would be so clever. “You are the dark shadow,” she says at last.

I grin as I offer her a shrug. Close enough. “You call me the dark shadow, I… Daghel… called me the darkness. I blame Driskal for that. He always had a sense of humor about such things.”

“Driskal,” she whispers, and I incline my head.

“Oh yes, he has been going as Drisk while lurking in the Fang Peaks. He found the other part of me, protected me and nurtured me as Daghel. Drisk knew all along what was required to let Durethikal in, but he also knew that it ultimately had to be Daghel’s choice. My choice.” I frown in annoyance and sigh. “It is so vexing trying to communicate about oneself in such a way, but I pray that you get the idea. The point is that Daghel has always been Durethikal. He is the warmth and love of Ishugor’s son that survived what the clans had done, leaving Vepra’s dark child to wander with half a soul through the snowy mountain peaks once I escaped the bound prison of my divine flesh. I am simply… whole… now.”

“I see,” she murmurs as she moves a step closer, her head tilting slightly as she cautiously regards me. “What should I call you then?”

I consider her question thoughtfully. “Daghel. For all my previous power, Durethikal died a cruel and terrible death within that imprisonment. But that death also released me so that I can come again. I am now Daghel.”

“Ok… Daghel. Linahna said that you are imprisoned for avenging her people.”

I peer at her, amused by her non-question. She presents it as a statement, but in truth it is a question for me, uncertain as if this was truly my goal. So soft and sweet. For all that had jaded her and hardened my wyva , ultimately her heart is soft and filled with a warmth that I crave and treasure above all things.

“Yes, and no. Seeing the horrors of the slaughter and understanding what was to come of the mated gathol was the last nail in the coffin, so to speak. It is what allowed this reunion to happen. They were… as you just said of me… parasites,” I reply pleasantly, despite the gnash of my teeth as I consider the taint within my clan. “The moment Daghel saw the truth of things and the vile destruction that clans were causing, and let his darkness in, it was the moment that spelled their doom. I merely waited, biding my time until they were all happily fattening themselves and celebrating their hollow victory. But the root of my intention was to clean up the filth and poison destroying the Cold Mountain Clans. It is simply that the worst of it was right there in the room and had participated in the massacre of the encampment.” My eyes drift from her to the door of my cage. “It is a pity that several of them escaped… especially Vorn.”

Her throat works but she creeps closer to me, her brow furrowing slightly. “They will want to kill you, Daghel.”

I laugh and the deep sound echoes throughout the walls of my prison. “I am certain that is what they intend to do,” I agree. “But they cannot. All they can do is imprison me until I surrender my flesh. That is what they did the first time. And to accomplish this, they will need first to assemble all their sorcerers and mages so that they can bind me again. Daghel may have been born of orc flesh and blood but upon welcoming in his darkness and becoming whole, my flesh is divine once again, and the mages are not so foolish as to overlook that.”

“If all this is true, why did you ask for me?” she sadly whispers.

My smile fades as I feel a terrible pain piercing my heart and something cracks within me as I watch a tear track down her cheek. I pull in frustration against my chain, wanting and needing to comfort her so that for the first time I truly resent their presence and the spells of containment upon them. Can it be that she thinks I have abandoned her by becoming my true self once again? How could I? An eternity without my mate would be an insufferable pain that would destroy me in ways that no orc would ever be capable of doing with their own hands. That she believes that I can do so—I who gave my heart entirely to her both as Daghel and as Durethikal as I watched over her—is intolerable. I choke on the tears that well up within me.

I blink my eyes in surprise, drying the tears. Who would have imagined that Vepra’s son could cry. I have no memory of ever weeping as either Durethikal or Daghel but now I suffer with that urge.

“Why would I not?” I gruffly demand, my voice thick with my pain. “You are my mate, my heart. Even as Driskal is my beloved and bonded male and is a part of me, so are you. Losing you would destroy me far more effectively than any of these fools could imagine… that is why I called you here. You must leave, wyva .”

She wipes a hand over her cheeks, brushing away her tears as her brow furrows with confusion. “Leave? You called me here to send me away? I don’t understand.”

I incline my head regretfully. “I had a small understanding of what they intended when I returned with Driskal, though it was incomplete. He was to take you away then, but it seems that the blind spots in my knowledge were detrimental enough to ruin those plans and he was captured just as surely as me.”

Her soft little mouth parts in shock. “Is he?—”

“No,” I quickly reply, cutting off the terrible thought before it can be uttered. “We are bonded just as you and I are bonded. I would know if any harm came to him. I would feel it. What is more, although he will suffer great pain if they try to kill him, they cannot kill him. Nor would you die, though if you are captured, they will make you suffer. I asked for you to be brought to me so that I can tell you to go find Driskal and have him take you to the hidden gathols. He will know of what you speak. All of those males who were supposed to fall—Vorn’s great plot—is all an illusion and this would-be king is not even aware of it. You must go and rally the gathols,” I whisper.

“But only a queen can rally the gathol,” she quietly replies, and I chuckle mirthfully.

“My love, you are the long-awaited bride of the wintry god-king. You are the queen of clan queens.”

Her face pales with the enormity of what I hit her with but my brave, fierce mate recovers as quickly as I knew she could. She nods grimly and straightens but I hiss softly, drawing her attention back to me.

“There is one other thing,” I admit with a purr, and her brow lifts in inquiry. “Give me something to dream about in this darkness while you are away.”

She peers at me uncertainly, her eyes searching mine for a long moment as she weighs her decision. I wait in anticipation as this moment will tell the tale of whether she can truly accept me… accept our gathol of three. I barely dare to breathe until her nod frees me and I feel a desire to weep with relief as she walks to me, drawing the lacings free on her gown so that falls in a quiet flutter to the ground.

I rise quickly to my feet as she approaches my side, her bare body just as lovely in the low light, and love blooms fiercely in me as I peer down at her upturned little face. “Just quickly, wyva. This cell is too cold for one as small and fragile as you, even with the Driskal’s wyvern fire. We cannot delay your escape too much. And look I am already ready for you,” I purr, nodding down to my erect cock.”

Her lips curl in a smile as some of the tension eases from her face. A tiny sigh parts from her, and she shakes her head. “Your words may be a bit more flippant, but everything else is most definitely my mate.”

She runs a hand along my cheek and my eyes flutter shut with pleasure at the warmth of her touch. “Sit down, my love. This will be far easier on the ground with your hands bound like that.”

I grunt at her astute observation and sink once more to the floor, my legs crossing as my back is pulled straight against the wall with my arms suspended above my head. Like when I made the Gehl dolls, she steps smoothly over my legs, bracing a foot at either side of me before lowering herself into my lap. This time, however, she grips my cock with one hand and lowers herself on it. She is not as wet as she should be, so it does not slide in as easily but slowly stretches her. In doing so, she gradually grows wetter as she slowly works herself down my cock with tiny thrusts until I am rumbling with a trembling wave of pleasure, and she seats herself fully upon my length.

Her arms wrap around me then, holding me tenderly as she presses against me. I can feel the thump of her heart against my torso and tears spring anew to my eyes as she gently begins to rock on me. Every movement is a love song in motion as we sway together, the chains rattling quietly in melody. Her cunt embraces my prick, fluttering around it as the soft walls of her channel stroke my length as she lifts and lowers herself on my cock in shallow, grinding thrusts that keep my cock implanted deeply within her. She gasps and sighs with the delicious friction and my cock jerks in agreement, spewing drops of precum, making me groan my pleasure as the head of my cock presses repeatedly against the mouth of her womb.

She is unhurried as she rides me, but at length her strokes quicken, her hips rolling with urgency so that my cock taps within her even as it is squeezed by the tightening fist of her cunt as the edge of her climax approaches. My testicles tighten in response, and I moan, my head falling forward to breathe in her scent as I roll my hips to meet her, driving my cock deeper, harder, faster until we are panting and moving together, and the sweetness of our embrace turns fervent.

Her body arches as she lifts off my cock and drops harder and faster, making me growl as I thrust up into her clenching heat. She gasps and softly cries her pleasure, her ecstasy rising with mine as I draw my mouth over the delicate skin of her neck and thrust up into her. My cock engorges with my impending release, every ridge and node swollen as my seed boils up at the base of my cock in response to the tightening flutters of her cunt and she winds higher and higher. But still, she does not break—afraid to let go, afraid to scream and surrender completely to me. She is almost there, but she needs a little push. A little pain for her to accept the pain and greater pleasure that comes with submission and love.

“Bleed for me,” I rasp, drawing a fang against her skin, slicing it shallowly and ever so gently.

The crimson river pools to the surface and I stroke my tongue over it worshipfully as she shatters with her final surrender, bringing me with her as my cock pulses streams of seed within her soft, clutching depths.

And then, she is gone, her footsteps fading at my insistence, carrying her away from me. She will find Driskal and escape. I know she will. Nothing will stop the wyva of Durethikal.