Page 17

Chapter 16

Elsie

“ E verything is a lie.”

My voice sounds strange to my own ears, as if it belongs to a different person, which it does. Because I’m not Elsie. I’ve never been. I’m someone else, and I have no idea who that woman is, except that she’s a stranger. An alien from a different world.

And that scares the living daylights out of me.

Already, I feel her, this stranger, creeping into my mind with her weird notion of power and slowly taking over my body. Even that’s not my own anymore. The scars and weakness that have defined me for so long have made space for this being, this female with a strong, healthy body. She’s molding it to her needs, growing stronger inside me by the minute.

I slam my hands over my ears, not to block out sound but to keep the madness at bay.

I’m going fucking crazy.

Aruan reaches for me. “Elsie.”

I step away from him.

A big, fat lie.

My existence is nothing but a farce.

Do I know what’s real? It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.

Actually, it does. Even now, the power is vibrating beneath the surface of my skin like a parasite that’s invaded the body of a host.

“Elsie,” he says again, this time sterner.

Shaking my head, I bite out, “I’m not Elsie.” And I’m so fucking angry about that.

“Do you prefer that I call you Laliss?” he asks in a gentler tone.

No, I definitely don’t want him to call me that.

He doesn’t lower his arm. He holds out his hand, offering it to me like an olive branch. “It’ll get better.”

That same empty promise again.

It won’t.

I can never get back the life that was stolen from me here or the life I had on Earth. I’ll never know my biological parents. Neither will I see my adoptive parents again, not if it depends on Aruan. My life here was finished before it began, and it looks as if my life as Elsie Barnikoff is dead for good.

So what now? Am I supposed to simply pick up the pieces and move on from where I left off when my name was Laliss? Except, I’m not Laliss. The only name I know is Elsie, but I don’t feel like her either.

A hollow laugh tears from my chest.

“Elsie.” Aruan closes the distance between us and catches my wrists to pull my hands from my ears. He holds them at my sides in the vise of his fingers, not allowing me space or a chance to flee. “This isn’t the end of the world. It’s just the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?” Another hysterical laugh bubbles over my lips. “Of our happy ending?” I wrestle to free myself from his hold, but he doesn’t let up an inch. “If that’s what you think, you’re fucking na?ve.” I lift my chin. “Do you know what this is? This isn’t you and me galloping off together into the sunset.” Thinking about that prophecy again, I continue, “This is the beginning of the mother of all clusterfucks.”

“Calm down,” he says, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “There’s no point in upsetting yourself. This situation doesn’t have to be bad for you.”

“Not bad for me? I’m your prisoner, Aruan. I don’t want to be here, do you hear me?” I get into his face. “I don’t want to be Laliss, and I don’t want to be your fucking mate!”

A deadly quiet comes over him. He stares at me with narrowed eyes, something disturbing gleaming in their silver depths. “You’re mine, Elsie. Mine . That’s how fate designed it. That’s your destiny. You can either do this the hard way by fighting it, or you can accept it.” His eyes narrow further, all the way into slits. “Whatever you choose, the fact that you’re mine isn’t going to change.”

The unjustness wells up inside me until it’s about to blow.

“Get your hands off me,” I say through gritted teeth, fighting him anew.

Instead, he wraps me up in his arms, trapping me even more effectively.

“Let go!” I scream, kicking for all I’m worth, but my efforts have no effect on him.

He easily lifts me off my feet. It’s difficult to breathe. I think he may crush my ribcage in the unyielding squeeze of those muscled arms.

“Are you done?” he asks in a tight voice.

I’m beyond thinking or acting rationally. All I want is to get out of here, to escape from this prison and frightening reality.

I twist and kick, fighting like never before.

“Stop it, Elsie, or you’ll leave me no choice but to restrain you before you hurt yourself.”

I don’t stop. I can’t. I’m like a wild animal trapped in a cage, clawing my way to freedom.

In the back of my mind, I’m aware that we’re going down to the floor. The ceiling tilts. Aruan breaks my fall with one hand beneath my head and the other on my back. He absorbs the shock of the hard flagstones, shifting his hold to pin both my wrists above my head in one hand while holding himself up on his arm.

I go quiet.

His weight is anchoring without crushing me. We stare at each other in a frozen moment of shock, one of us in anger and the other with calculation. My chest heaves with laborious breaths. With Aruan’s torso like a slab of granite merely an inch from mine, there’s scarcely space to breathe. Every inhale makes my breasts brush against those hard muscles. The layers of our clothing are not nearly enough of a barrier. My nipples harden. His closeness sparks an unwelcome but undeniable awareness of him deep inside me.

That scent.

He smells so fucking good.

The way he fits against me feels so good. He’s hard in all the right places, especially where his cock presses against my stomach.

The quickening of my breathing is no longer from the physical exertion of fighting. The urge to wrap my arms around him and hold him to me is strong. I almost act on it, remembering too late that he’s pinning my arms to the floor.

Dangerous.

My position is vulnerable.

Yet I can’t stop myself from spreading my legs to make space for him between my thighs.

“Elsie,” he says with an animalistic growl.

A warning.

But I’m helpless against the pull of my body. My mind is useless. It’s no match for the strange instinct that has taken over and is now dictating my actions. I can fight it as little as I can fight Aruan and win in physical strength. I know I’ve lost even before I’ve had a chance to fight. Despite the excruciating heat that grows in my belly, my imminent defeat fills me with helpless anger.

As if sensing my surrender, he loosens his hold on my wrists. Something almost tender shifts into his eyes. When he presses our mouths together, it’s not with the clashing, violent urgency from our first kiss as I expected. The way he molds his lips around mine is tender and probing yet assertive enough to make me part my lips for him without being prompted.

His kiss is like a drug, overwhelming my senses and confusing my thoughts. My inner muscles clench in response, a strong need building in my core.

I want.

God, do I ever want.

When he lets my wrists go, I thread my fingers through the thick strands of his soft hair. I cling to him even as I push him away, my mind and body battling even though there’s no question about the outcome of that fight.

I kiss him back as he explores my mouth. I tangle my tongue with his and hungrily learn the shape of his lips in turn. The moans echoing in the space can’t be coming from my mouth. Yet every time that sound fills the room, Aruan groans, tying me a little tighter to him with his intoxicating kiss and the delicious way he rotates his hips. He frames my face between his palms, holding me in place and keeping my mouth accessible for his plundering.

Shifting slightly, he tilts his hips, hitting a soft spot between my legs that makes my toes curl with pleasure.

Ah.

I rub myself against him and wrap my legs around his ass to get even closer.

“Elsie,” he says, tearing his mouth from mine.

We look at each other, our chests rising and falling rapidly. The way he said my name was another warning. He’s telling me we’re getting to the point of no return.

The implication of being tied to a mate hits me like a sack of potatoes on the head. There’s no escaping this destiny. That’s what he meant when he said I couldn’t fight it. My body has already made the decision for me. Despite its newfound health and vitality, I can’t help but hate it for betraying me as I give in to the mindlessness, almost angrily chasing after the release my body needs by moving harder against the thick cock that’s nestled between my legs.

“Slow down,” Aruan says in a choked voice. “You don’t want me to take you right here on the floor.”

My reply is born from spitefulness and vexation. “Just do it already.”

One thick, black brow raises in a perfectly arched, mocking curve. “Like this?”

“Does it matter where or how we do it?” I move my hand between our bodies to lock my fingers around the thick length tenting his pants. A part of me doesn’t want to enjoy it. Maybe if I don’t, I won’t want to do this again. I won’t have to fight battle after battle only to lose each one. “Just get it over with.”

He hisses. “Carry on touching me like that, and we’ll both regret the consequences. I’ll fuck you like a beast on the stones instead of in my bed like my mate deserves.”

“I’m not your mate,” I taunt. “Not yet.”

He catches my hand, squeezing it around his cock to still my movements. “You’re playing dangerous games.”

Throwing back his own words at him, I ask, “Lost your nerve?”

“If this is what you want,” he replies with finality that, despite my bravado, scares me.

He lets me go and lifts off of me. I watch his frame grow taller until he towers over me. Perversely, I feel colder without his touch. Emptier.

He holds my gaze as he strips, drinking me in like a man who adores the sight in front of him so much that he can’t help but hate it. Yes, indeed, he’s hating himself for needing me, hating that his determination to “claim” me is taking away his control. I feel it in that place in my chest where his thoughts and sentiments echo.

I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that he can never lie to me. He can’t tell me sweet nothings or that he cares. He can’t tell me that this is even just a little about me. No, this is all about him, about the mate he wants. For selfish reasons.

“Maybe it’s better like this,” he says as he sheds his final piece of clothing. “We won’t be wild with lust on the potion and therefore blind to pain or injuries. There’s less chance of me hurting you if I remain in control.”

The words “pain” and “injuries” drift into one ear and out the other, not hooking into my brain like they should. I’m too busy studying the perfect male specimen standing over me. He’s built like a fighting machine with unrelenting muscles and powerful arms and legs. His cock juts out, thick and long, the smooth crest already glistening with a drop of pre-cum.

I swallow, realizing that my mouth has gone dry. Because he’s beautiful. And because, once again, I realize how big he is. Really big.

If I hadn’t been so sick all my life, I might’ve experimented more, perhaps tried a vibrator or two, but I could never scrape together enough energy—or arousal—to make an effort.

I regret that terribly now, not knowing what’s in store for me.

With a wicked grin, he widens his stance slightly, letting me watch even as he offers me a hand. I look at his proffered hand, so huge and manly with that dusting of dark hair.

It’s a clever move. Taking it will mean I give him my consent. He’s making sure that I’m making the choice, that I won’t be able to accuse him later of forcing me.

And if I don’t take his hand, he may call me a coward again.

He wouldn’t be wrong. That’s what I feel like. A coward. And I’ve been many things throughout my life, but never a coward.

Slowly, I reach out and place my hand in his, even as the same duality I sense in him—wanting something so badly it aches, and hating it for that reason—wars inside me.

Approval flashes in his eyes, but it doesn’t warm me like the appreciation of someone who loves me. He’s merely praising me for doing something he wants me to do.

I cling to that thought, reminding myself that we’re not doing this because we actually give a damn about one another. It’s vital that I protect myself if I’m to make it out of this mess with my mind and heart intact.

He pulls me close enough for our bodies to touch. The heat of his skin scorches me through the layers of my clothes. No matter how hard I focus on the negative aspects of what we’re about to do, all those notions are incinerated once there’s no longer any distance between us.

I can feel his power. It buzzes in a low hum, stoking mine to life. It’s like the soft purr of a big cat. Of an alpha lion. On the one hand, it’s soothing, and on the other, it’s making me so jittery with dormant but explosive energy that it feels as if a shot of espresso has been injected straight into my bloodstream.

The hum penetrates my breastbone. For some reason, he’s persistent, using this trick on me until we’re buzzing in tandem. It’s like being tipsy without the alcohol.

When I give over to that feeling, he undresses me, starting with the boots. The pants follow next. Then the shirt. And then I’m naked, because they don’t bother with underwear here.

He cups my head and tilts back my face, swooping down to press a kiss on my neck. He follows it up with a gentle bite that makes me gasp with pleasure. The kisses he plants on the column of my neck cause shiver after shiver to trickle down my spine. Goosebumps run over my arm when he sucks my earlobe into his mouth and whispers something about a promise in my ear.

A promise to make it good. Like a bandage on a cut before the blade has nicked the skin.

But I can hardly concentrate on his words or their meaning while he’s palming my breasts in his gigantic hands, kneading them until they feel swollen and heavy.

The world gives way from under my feet. He’s scooped me up into his arms. The room passes in a blur. Somewhere in the middle of the floor, our discarded clothes lie in two heaps like wilted flowers. The harsh white light of day washes through the window, unlike the soft, forgiving beams of the moon. There’s no evening breeze to cool the heat mounting under my skin, no darkness to hide the unwanted emotions on my face—the lust, the ecstasy, the defeat, and the bitterness. The ever-present, unfading anger. But his kisses are sweet, and that static hum of power that reaches out to the power inside me is calming.

My back hits a cool, silky surface—the sheets of his bed. I sink into the softness, the weight of Aruan’s body pinning me down. Like before, it’s a comfortable weight. He keeps himself up on his elbows while he goes back to kissing me. His movements are tender and seductive, coaxing me into opening not only my lips for him but also my legs.

He lifts my arms above my head and secures them firmly on the mattress by shackling my wrists in the strong grip of his hands. Once I’m securely bound, he moves down my body and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I arch my back, begging for more. The tip hardens on his tongue. He does something with his teeth that has me crying out. The sound invites his praise. I’m not cognizant of what he’s saying. I’m too focused on the sensations he provokes as he teases me so wickedly with his tongue and his teeth.

He transfers both my wrists into one large hand and slides the other between my legs. I jerk when he touches my folds. I’m so wet my arousal is slick on my thighs. This earns me more praise and a louder purr of power that emanates from his chest.

“So ready for me,” he says, looking up at me with molten silver eyes.

I’m panting by now, chasing after the friction of his finger as he gently—too gently—teases my throbbing clit.

“Is this what you want, my sweet?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

We haven’t even started yet, and I’m already burning up. I manage a nod, doing my best to stay lucid.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful, feisty mate. I’m going to take care of your pleasure.” Making good on his promise, he lets go of my arms and plants one hand over a breast, tweaking the nipple while teasing my folds with the fingers of his free hand. “Do you want to come on my hand or my face?”

Blood rushes to my cheeks. I’m not exactly practiced in sex talk, and he makes it sound both crude and hot. I stutter something incomprehensible at which he chuckles.

“How about I choose?” he says, already moving down my body.

I close my legs involuntarily as my courage fails me, but he grips my knees and pries them open before lowering his head between my thighs.

Oh, fuck.

I think I’ve died and gone to heaven for real this time.

The things he’s doing with his tongue… they should be illegal.

He traces my slit, waking nerve endings I didn’t know existed. When he parts me with his thumbs, stretching me wide open before sucking my clit deep into his mouth, my whole body lifts off the mattress. It’s like being zapped with lethal volts of electricity. The pleasure doesn’t coil slowly through my lower body like when he touched me in the hallway after the episode with the poison. The strong suction of his lips and the sharp little nips of his teeth detonates it from the center of my core like a shooting star expanding into space.

I dig my fingers into the covers, scrunching silky sheets in my fists.

One more lick and flick of his tongue, and an orgasm tears through my body with the destructive force of a hurricane.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “You take your pleasure so beautifully for me.” He lifts his head, fixing me with that eerie, metallic-gray gaze. “You’re going to do it again, my sweet mate, and this time, you’re coming on my cock.”

I didn’t know pleasure like this existed. I’m still coming down from the explosive release, endorphins fogging my brain, when something velvety smooth yet hard nudges my entrance.

“Take a deep breath, Elsie,” Aruan says, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.

He’s gone back to trapping my arms above my head, but it feels more intimate because he’s intertwined our fingers and is pushing the backs of my palms against the mattress.

I close my eyes and allow myself to drift in the afterglow of my orgasm. The aftershocks are so powerful that purple-and-white stars dot my vision behind my eyelids.

My eyes fly wide open when that solid pressure between my legs increases steadily to part my folds. An intrusion slips between them, its presence exhilarating and foreign. Frightening.

“Relax,” he says, planting a kiss on my jaw. “It’ll be easier. You’ll enjoy it more.”

Relaxing is out of the question when he rotates his hips and lodges that thick, hot hardness a little deeper inside me.

There’s not enough space for him. He’s too big. The stretch of my body isn’t enough to accommodate his size.

I close my fingers around his with bruising force and arch my hips, trying to throw him off like a wild horse ditching the rider who breaks it in.

“Shh,” he says, kissing me on the mouth again. “Don’t fret, my sweet.”

The euphoria of earlier lifts a little, letting in a fresh bout of reality—and with it, fear.

“Look at me, Elsie,” he commands even as he slides another inch deeper.

I cry out, battling to breathe through the discomfort. I’m wet, but it doesn’t ease his way. I think he may tear me in two.

“You’re a virgin,” he says with no small amount of male pride and satisfaction but also surprise.

“No shit,” I bite out, digging my nails into the back of his hands as he moves yet another inch.

“You should’ve told me,” he says roughly. “I would’ve prepared you with my hand.”

I suck in a breath, clenching hard against the pressure. “This… isn’t going to work.”

“Hush, my sweet. Do your best to relax.” He holds still, mercifully giving me time to adjust and try to do as he says. “It’s going to hurt, but I’ll take care of you, my beautiful little mate.”

Like he promised, it hurts. It hurts with a burn that flares as he pushes all the way in. A scream tears from my chest that he catches in a smothering kiss. I’m about to regret my body’s unbending will to take this all the way when he starts to move.

At first, the pain intensifies. I want to fight, but I don’t. I just lie there, vanquished, praying that it will soon be over.

Aruan’s face comes into focus as he pulls away to look at me. His jaw is bunched, and sweat beads on his forehead. The look in his eyes is one of utter concentration.

He’s holding back. For my sake.

“Do it,” I say, grinding my teeth together against the pain. “Finish this already.”

“No.” The word is harsh, but his expression is tender. “I won’t let you rush me. I’m going to take my time with you.”

I moan in despair. “Aruan, please.” Tears I can’t hold back run from the corners of my eyes. “I beg you, please end this.”

He kisses away the tears and whispers in my ear those sweet nothings I don’t want to hear, encouraging words and praise for how well I’m taking him.

Him.

This is all about him.

And just when I’m about to hurl the accusation at him, the pain turns into something different, a pleasure much more carnal and intense than I experienced when he used his mouth.

“Ah.” I shift my hips, seeking stimulation despite the rawness inside. “More.”

“Slowly,” he says with a chuckle. “Or you’ll be too sore to walk tomorrow.”

Why can’t he just do what I ask? When I want him to stop, he moves, and when I want him to go faster, he goes slowly.

“You’re insufferable,” I choke out.

“If I’m insufferable, it’s because I don’t want you to be tender afterward.”

But even as he says it, he starts to thrust with a lazy pace that soon has me delirious with need again. I wrap my legs around his ass and lift myself higher.

“Dragons,” he mutters, gripping my fingers so hard they ache.

“Aruan, please…” I clench around him, needing this like nothing before.

The expression on his face is equal parts agonized pleasure and victory. “Are you begging me to fuck you, mate?”

He told me I’d beg, he warned me, but I can’t even bring myself to care. “Do you want me to?” I manage to ask with a bite. “Will it make you feel more wanted? More desirable?”

“So dramatic.” He clucks his tongue even as more beads of sweat appear on his forehead. “You don’t have to beg for what already belongs to you.”

There’s something wrong with that statement, but I don’t stop to examine it. Sensing that he’s close to losing control, I don’t slow down like I know I should. No, I test my power over him, tempting the beast by rubbing my nipples over his chest and moving my hips faster.

The breakdown comes quicker than I anticipated and long before I’m ready for it. Letting go of my hands, he locks his fingers in a bruising grip on my hips and holds me fast to the bed as he pounds into me with a crazed rhythm, pummeling my body into a speedy submission of fluttering spasms as another orgasm explodes through me, contracting my inner muscles around his cock.

“Elsie,” he growls.

The power of his thrusts would shift me over the mattress if he weren’t pinning my hips onto the bed. The loss of his control is both petrifying and beautiful. But I no longer feel the fear or the pain. All I’m conscious of is the earth-shattering—or rather, Zerra-shattering—pleasure that overwhelms me physically and mentally. I’m like jelly, incapable of moving or thinking. I can only lie there beneath him, shivering with brutal aftershocks of unending ecstasy.

He slams into me one last time before his whole body goes taut. His cock grows impossibly thick, and then a flush of warmth bathes me inside. A ripple of pleasure runs through me, goosebumps covering my skin. Locked inside me, he rides out his pleasure with a clenched jaw, his features set as if he’s in pain.

When it’s over, he rests his forehead against mine to catch his breath. Finally, he releases my hands to wrap me up in his arms and cradle me against the welcome heat and safety of his chest. My arms go around him instinctively, needing something to hold on to. He buries his face in my neck and kisses a tender spot before nuzzling the curve of my shoulder.

It’s done.

We’ve mated.

If I expected something to happen—some feelings to change or a bond to appear magically—I’m sorely disappointed. Stripped of physical pleasure, all that remains is the same old anger and confusion.

He pushes onto his elbows, studying my face. “How are you doing?”

I frown. “Aside from feeling as if I’ve been ripped in two?” Everything crashes down on me, all the accumulated irritation and built-up rage. The unjustness. Tears gather at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to shed them. I bite hard on my lip to prevent myself from giving him that weakness. Instead, I lash out, fighting with the only weapon I have. “I hate you.”

“I know,” he says with easy acceptance that irks me more than I’d like to admit. His tone is sober. “I can tell by the mere fact that our mating isn’t complete.”

“What do you mean our mating isn’t complete? You came inside me.”

Possessiveness sparks in his eyes, but his expression is veiled, his voice almost toneless. “Yes, I did a good job of filling you with my seed. I stuffed you to overflowing. Even now as we’re connected, I can feel what you can’t hold inside spilling from your pussy.”

Fuck.

Birth control.

How could something so crucial have slipped my mind? It’s this damn mating urge. It clouded my reason and drugged my brain.

“I don’t want to have children,” I say in a hoarse voice.

At least, not now. Not like this.

He wipes every trace of emotion from his face so efficiently that he’d give Kian a good run for his money. “Then we’d better hope you didn’t conceive.” Then, just as quickly, he gives me a cold, wry smile. “But don’t worry. Alit women don’t conceive easily. It rarely happens on the first try.”

Not reassured, I ask, “Why didn’t you use protection?”

“Because it’s assumed that a mated couple would welcome a child. Couples don’t only welcome the idea; they wish for it desperately.”

“Well, we’re not a mated couple. You said so yourself.”

“Yes,” he replies like a robot, not allowing me to get a read on him.

“If you did such a good job, how come it’s not complete?” I ask with a good dose of sarcasm.

I’m physically sated, but I’m far from satisfied. A part of me wants to hurt him like I’m hurting. I want to punish him for keeping me here against my will and for making it impossible for me to fight our attraction. I want to punish him for making me submit to him. Finding myself on the losing end is a humiliating experience. Pleasurable but humiliating. I don’t have a choice but to bend under this incontrollable need. He can only win, time and again, and it’s not fair.

He adopts a stony look as he lets me go, lifts off of me, and gets to his feet. Like earlier, the loss of his touch leaves me oddly bereft. I have no idea why I’m so disappointed. I only know that he’s disappointed too.

Was the sex not what he expected? Did it not please him? Was I too inexperienced?

Was that what I saw in his expression before he hid it so well? Disappointment ?

For some reason, the thought floors me. It hurts me much more than it should. His opinion of my skills in bed shouldn’t affect me. I shouldn’t care. I don’t. Then why do I feel like crying as he walks away without as much as a backward glance?

The unwelcome tears I can’t hold back anymore run over my cheeks. Wiping impatiently at my face, I push up onto my elbows. As he walks to the other room, I watch his chiseled ass and the muscles of his back that seem to be sculpted from marble.

Whatever. He can go fuck himself.

I didn’t expect pillow talk, but I don’t appreciate being left cold when he’s just claimed my V-card.

I swallow my tears as he returns with one of those big, folded bath sheets in his hand.

“Here,” he says in that same emotionless tone, holding it open for me.

So much for post-sex intimacy. If anything, we’re more like strangers than ever. The atmosphere is so uncomfortable I wish I were anywhere but here. The sex must’ve been truly awful if this is how he’s behaving. He’s shown me more warmth in our non-sexual interactions than he has after the act.

He wraps me up in the sheet, telling me he doesn’t want me to be cold, and then he holds out his hand. When I take it on autopilot, he leads me to the cleansing room.

He gets into the water and waits for me to drop the sheet before helping me in too. I settle on the bench facing him, and he doesn’t invite me to join him on his side or to sit on his lap as he did before. Instead, he seems caught up in his thoughts, far away from me and what we just did.

As if it doesn’t matter.

Because it doesn’t.

Why should it?

He got what he wanted, and he liked it less than he hoped. I should be relieved. Then why does a heaviness settle in my heart and more of those cursed tears burn at the backs of my eyes? Why does it hurt with enough force to reduce me to sobbing?

He rinses his face and brushes back his hair with his big hands. Drops cling to his long, dark lashes.

“Do you need a pomade or a drink to dull the pain?” he asks casually, factually, as if he doesn’t really care but is asking because he feels compelled by some weird sense of duty to take care of me.

Yes, that’s it. He’s not asking as if he gives a damn but as if he has to, as if it’s nothing but a pesky responsibility.

I’m raw inside, but I’m not going to tell him that.

“I thought the water had healing powers,” I say with a snideness designed to hide my hurt and humiliation.

“It does,” he replies patiently. “But seeing that you were a virgin and that I didn’t prepare you, you may feel some discomfort for a day or two.”

“What do you care?”

“Your wellbeing concerns me. It’s my duty to take care of you.”

And there it is, the confirmation that he’s only doing his damn duty.

My already-volatile anger explodes. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

The line of his jaw hardens. “I know my responsibilities, and I’ve never shied away from them.”

I bat my eyelashes and give him a sugary smile. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no trouble.” Sparks dance in his silver eyes, but he does a good job of keeping his anger in check. “I’ll have something sent over.”

Then again, maybe he doesn’t have to force calmness. Maybe he’s simply uninterested.

He stands, drops of water rolling off his powerful torso and flat stomach. His cock hangs heavy and thick below the dark nest of curls between his thighs. Despite the delectable portrait he makes, I want to slap him. I am hurting, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the ache in my heart. His rejection is humiliating. I’ve never regretted anything more than I’m regretting having sex with him.

His tone is icy. “You could at least try not to show your regret so openly.”

I bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying something truly insulting.

He gets out of the water like the Adonis he is and takes a sheet from the bench that he uses to dry himself with.

“I’m going to talk to my mother,” he says, not looking at me. “I’ll put a female servant at your disposal. If you need anything, she’ll get it for you.”

With that, he walks out in all his naked glory.

I shrink into myself, making myself small in the water, wishing I could curl up into a ball and hide somewhere… anywhere… as long as it’s far away from here.

At the first opportunity I get, I’m out of here. I’ll figure out a way of getting off this planet. After what has happened, there’s not a chance I’m staying. I’m not going to sit here and wait for Aruan to give me the cold shoulder. And I sure as hell won’t hang around to have more sex that’s clearly unsatisfying and to be humiliated again just because the way we’re wired makes it impossible to resist.

No way. Not me.

Goodbye, Aruan.

A tear runs down my cheek even as I mentally punch the asshole in the gut.

Have a nice fucking life.

I get out of the water, dry myself, and walk to the bedroom.

It’s empty.

He left.

Ignoring the coldness that settles in my stomach, I quickly dress in another pair of Aruan’s pants and a shirt that smells too much like him for my liking. My actions are mechanical, yet the power inside me pulses stronger still, an undeniable force that won’t be ignored.

In a distant corner of that awareness, I become conscious of Betty. She’s out there, closer now, her presence a balm on my trampled emotions.

I’m not cognizant of opening the window and stepping onto the balcony. It’s automatic. Instinctive. I reach for her, searching for comfort, and she doesn’t disappoint. She answers the call, her gigantic wings turning visible in the distant sky.

I watch her grow bigger as she comes nearer. How beautiful and majestic she is. I already know she’s going to land on the balcony before her claws hit the rail because that’s what I want. That’s what I will her to do.

The balcony shakes under the onslaught of her weight as she hops to the floor. I grab a pillar for purchase.

Aruan’s voice comes from somewhere far-off. “Elsie!”

Betty locks her wings at her sides and tilts her head to study me with her beady eyes.

“Betty,” I whisper, stroking her soft, rubbery neck. “You came.”

“Elsie!”

Aruan’s voice cuts me like shards of glass, but if I stay here, it will only get worse. Wiping at the wetness on my cheeks, I ignore the sharp pain that tears into my chest as I carefully climb onto the rail, holding on to the pillar with both hands. The abyss gapes beneath me, but I’m not scared, not with Betty there to catch me.

And then white-hot fear flares in my chest as Aruan’s intention manifests in my mind.

He’s going to vaporize Betty.

Already, his presence grows stronger as he prepares to portal himself here.

To stop me.

I act fast, leaping from the rail onto Betty’s back. Aruan won’t kill her if my safety is at stake. He’s not going to risk my life. That’s one thing he’s made clear.

“Go,” I urge, wrapping my arms around her neck and holding on for dear life.

Betty doesn’t hesitate. She pushes off the balcony, using her strong legs to propel us into the air. My stomach dips as she dives before righting herself, and then we’re flying.

A mixture of fury and dread rides on the echo of my name that chases us through the valley, but I don’t listen. I refuse to. However, it’s impossible to ignore the distress that bleeds into that place in my chest where Aruan’s feelings live.

I can’t help but feel what’s reflected inside me, how everything in that soft, warm place turns to cold, hard stone.

Thank you for following Elsie and Aruan’s journey! Their story continues in Dark Prince’s Mate .

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