Page 13

Chapter 12

A riadne stood at the top of the dungeon stairs, eyes closed and taking long, deep breaths. She had spent the night training with Kall before bathing and returning to the one place in the keep that continued to claw at her. Minutes had ticked by with people eyeing her curiously as they passed before she shut them out.

By the time she opened her eyes again, however, her heart had returned to a steady rhythm. One step down. Then another. She hurried down the stairs before her mind could catch up to what her body was doing.

Torches flickered on either side of the corridor at the bottom in sconces she remembered only in flashes of memory. Leaving her cell, she had watched her own dirty, bloodied feet marching her toward the pain that awaited. Returning to the cell… Well, she could hardly recall those journeys.

So when she stopped at a familiar door with a smeared handprint across the wood, the world swam around her. She pressed her palm to it.

A perfect match.

In an instant, she returned to that night. Chains had loosened from the ceiling, and her feet hit the floor. Her knees buckled before she even had the chance to hold herself up, falling into Ehrun’s waiting arms.

“You did well,” the dhemon had crooned in her ear, a stroke of his thumb across her cheek.

The air rasped from her, and she looked up at him in a daze, shoulders screaming from being strung up for so long. It took a long moment for her to realize she had even been released—at least not until he moved toward the door.

But she knew what waited for her when she got back to that cell.

“Wait!” Ariadne had pushed back from him as they edged toward the exit. “Please…”

Not many people would have preferred to stay in a room that caused so much pain, but they did not endure what she did back in her cell. After each session, Ehrun deposited her back in the cold stone room where others found her not long after.

No matter how much she begged, Ehrun never listened. As he did every other night, he pulled her into the corridor. The only difference that night was how she had tried to keep herself there. She screamed in protest and stretched back as far as she could go to grab the door. It had not been successful—her endeavors never were with him—but it left a mark.

Ariadne stared at it now. No one had come to her cell after that session with Ehrun. She never quite understood why. Had Ehrun finally heeded her pleas and ordered others away from her? Perhaps she would never know the truth of it. Nonetheless, it had been the singular reprieve before Madan had opened her door and led her to freedom.

Now, the memory struck her as odd—one she had not thought of since her rescue. Ehrun had scooped her up into his arms and cradled her on the way to the cell. Rather than throw her onto the stone floor as he had so many times before, he set her down, stroked back her hair, and—gods, the longer she thought about the strangeness of it, the more vividly she saw it in her mind’s eye—looked at her with the most gentleness she had ever seen from him before.

Looked at her as though seeing her for the first time, his red eyes clear of hate or anger.

What had he seen in her that night? There had been a crack in his stony facade. She had gotten a rare peek at his soft underbelly.

“ Yvhalrinja ?”

Ariadne jumped at the sound of Kall’s voice and turned her face to him, heart in her throat. The scars running across his face stood out harshly in the light. She pulled her hand from the door, his vivid red eyes almost glowing as they tracked the movement before returning to the handprint she had left behind more than a year ago. Angry tension radiated from him despite the sadness that softened his gaze.

“Why you here?” Kall stepped forward as though to close the door, but she pressed her hand against the wood again.

Taking a deep breath and harnessing the strength she always felt near the dhemon who had become something of an overprotective big brother, Ariadne edged into the room. Her heart kicked up its pace. The air thinned. All around her was still and silent. Nothing about the room itself should have made her shake, yet nearing the chains still dangling from the ceiling and eyeing the brand resting at the mouth of the cold stove made every hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“It is just a room,” she said softly, her voice lost. “It cannot harm me.”

Kall followed as she found a knife, still sharp, sitting on a small table on the far side. Was it the same one that had cut into her skin? Had the last person who wielded it done so to cause pain? Could its last master have been Ehrun himself?

When she reached for it, Kall made a strained noise that shot through her like a bolt of lightning. Heart crashing against her ribs, she withdrew her hand as though struck and turned to him. The dhemon stared at the blade with a pained expression.

“What is it?” In the brief moment she glanced from the knife and back to her friend, she found him a step closer.

“That Ehrun’s.”

Well, that answered one of her questions. She swallowed hard. “This room bothers you almost as much as it does me. Why?”

Silver lined his eyes. “My fault.”

Ariadne frowned. “No, it—”

“I no kill him.” Kall made the face he always did when he struggled to find the appropriate words in the common tongue. She waited patiently, giving him the time to process and translate without distraction. When he spoke next, his deep voice was light and pained. “Should have kill him.”

“What stopped you?”

Now Kall’s face crumpled. He took in the knife, the chains, and the branding iron before rubbing a palm across his face. Fingers lingering on the edges of the disfiguring scars there told her enough. They bore pain from the same man. His voice cracked as he said, “Ehrun… He my brother.”

Air rushed from Ariadne’s lungs as though he had punched her in the diaphragm. Unable to collect herself for several heartbeats, she watched as Kall dragged his gaze back to her. He flinched at whatever he saw on her face.

“You…” She sucked in a long, steadying breath and studied him, surprised she had not seen the resemblance before. Granted, his scars had twisted his visage in some places so thoroughly, no one could have easily placed the familial ties. It was not as though she had not gone over a year seeing Madan beside their father and been blind to their similarities. Despite finding several of Kall’s features familiar to Ehrun’s she could not understand his shame.

“I sorry, ydhom .” Kall brushed his cheeks dry and set his mouth into a hard line. “I leave you.”

“No!” Ariadne launched forward, reaching for him and bumping the chains with her arm. The familiar clanging sent ice into her gut that melted when her fingers wrapped around his huge wrist and pulled him to a stop. “Please stay. Kall, you are not at fault.”

He shook his head. “If I kill him—”

“I could no sooner harm my sister, no matter her crimes,” Ariadne said, “than expect you to kill your own brother. Nothing he did to me was because of you.”

Without speaking, Kall angled his horns to her in a silent apology. Rather than passively accepting the gesture, Ariadne stepped closer and threw her arms around his neck. It had been he who protected her from Ehrun on the highway in Laeton. It had been he who stood by her side when her world had come crashing down around her. It had been he who jumped at the opportunity to teach her so that she would never again become a victim.

Kall tensed in her embrace. For several long heartbeats, he did not so much as breathe. When he finally relaxed, his huge arms slipped around her in a loose, gentle hug. “I no want anyone hurt.”

“I know it.” Pulling back, she took his scarred face in her hands. “And you have kept me safe ever since. You have made me stronger than I ever imagined.”

The responding shake of his head, refusing her words, brushed a horn against her face. “You strong, Yvhaltrinja . You brave.”

Warmth flushed across Ariadne’s cheeks at that. She looked around them, dropping her hands to her sides as he did the same. Long shadows flickered across the room, lit from the torches in the hall. Silence almost hummed around them while she took in the chains and blood-stained stones beneath them. Her blood.

Before losing the nerve to do so, Ariadne returned to the knife on the table and picked it up. The blade was beautifully balanced, though the handle was entirely too large for her grip. She slid a fingertip over the smooth, flat side of the cold, clean metal. It seemed to vibrate at her touch as though aching to bury itself into her flesh once more. Turning it over in her hands, she found two words carved into either side of the hilt in the dhemon language.

“Are these names?”

Kall moved closer, the chains signaling his approach. He read them aloud, pointing to each in turn, “Rhana. Thavii. Ehrun wife and daughter.”

An ache radiated through her chest for the man she hated most in the world. He had been in so much pain, and she had never understood why. Seeing the fear and subsequent relief in Azriel’s eyes each time they reconnected, she began to pity that horrible dhemon. He searched the world for his wife and daughter and would never find the relief her husband felt.

“I think we can help him.” Ariadne turned her gaze back up to Kall. “When we figure out that ritual…we might be able to save him.”

Something dark swept through Kall’s eyes. “He no want saving.”

“I think he’s lost.” Gods, was she truly arguing to help the man who had caused her so much devastation? She would want someone to do the same for Azriel, given the chance. “I will never forgive him, but that may be how we defeat him…and gain more allies.”

Kall said nothing in return. Pain etched into his face, the scars twisting. How many times had he tried to get his brother back? How many times had he tried to put his brother down?

Without voicing either question, Ariadne turned the blade around to hold the hilt out to him. “Give this to him after we save him.”

Shaking his head, Kall stepped out of reach. “You give. Remind him what he did.”

She swallowed hard and held the knife flat against her chest. “I do not think—”

“It yours.” Kall retreated to the door, watching her expectantly and holding it open. She followed, the blade heavy in her hand. As she passed, he said, “I no forgive him either.”

“He is your brother.”

“My brother die with Rhana.”

Kept on an even keel during his meetings with the clans thanks to Phulan’s potions, the razor-sharp edge of Azriel’s bond eased its way back into his body not long before arriving back at Auhla . Two days and three nights away had been difficult even with the illusory drink’s effects. Getting Ariadne off his mind long enough to secure alliances and oaths from the clan leaders had been a challenge unto itself.

Razer landed in the field outside the front doors to the keep and eased his belly toward the ground to shrink the distance required to dismount, but Azriel scrambled from the dragon’s back before that could happen.

“ Thank you ,” Azriel said, already scanning the keep before him for signs of his wife.

“ You’re welcome ,” Razer huffed, a blast of hot hair smacking Azriel in the back.

He paused long enough to pivot toward his bondheart, placing a hand at the end of Razer’s midnight blue nose. “ I’m sorry for being so distant lately .”

A softness entered Razer’s honey eyes, and he audibly hummed. “ I understand , dhomin.”

Azriel swallowed back a sharp retort as the dragon bared his teeth in a mock smirk. “ May I go see my wife now ?”

Impatience rippled through the vinculum. “ Are you going to tell her about your little ruse ? She’s likely been worried sick . I don’t understand why you don’t just bring her with us . You know as well as I that the Noct can be split in half .”

A heaviness formed in Azriel’s gut. Keeping the potion a secret had been necessary to see if it worked. Ariadne never would have agreed to it after what happened in Algorath. Gods, it’d been a terrible risk to take it just before meeting with the clans. But it worked, and now, he could share the results.

Guilt crept in the longer he thought about it. She also would never have kept something so big from him.

“ Run along , dhominja,” Razer said when he replied with nothing but his tumultuous feelings.

The second jab— my little prince—refocused him in an instant, and he flicked the dragon’s sensitive nostril before turning again. “ You’re the worst .”

Razer chuckled. A gust of air and swooping sensation in Azriel’s gut told him the dragon was once again airborne. His shadow passed overhead, aiming for the cave system above the keep. The deep shade of his scales glinted in the light of the rising sun in a beautiful medley of blues.

Inside, Auhla was quiet. Though more than half the dhemons present continued to work during the daylight hours, many were still just waking and getting to their positions or breaking their fast. Others sat in the great hall with their nightshift comrades. A quick glance down the rows of tables told him all he needed to know: Ariadne wasn’t in there.

Turning on his heel, Azriel took the stairs two at a time. Each heartbeat pushed the potion from his blood, allowing the bond’s claws to dig in a little deeper. He shoved the door to their room open to find the curtains drawn and Ariadne drying herself. The bathtub from which she’d just exited still steamed.

Azriel stopped in his tracks, snapping the door closed to keep the empty hallway behind him from witnessing the ethereal beauty of her naked body. In an instant, the tension that had curled through him during his ascent eased.

“ Sabharni , alhija ,” he said as she startled, turning to him with wide eyes and clutching the towel to her chest. Her alarm melted away with a smile and, with it, the last of his anxiety.

Without a word, Ariadne crossed the room and folded herself into his arms. “I missed you.”

The monster inside of him almost purred with contentment. Azriel pressed his lips to the top of her damp hair and hummed his agreement. Though the potion had numbed him more than he wanted, he’d taken half the dose of the rest of the vials to keep the effects at a minimum.

“I’m going to make you dirty again,” he said without letting her go.

Ariadne giggled and, damn, if that didn’t sate his aching soul. “Then join me back in the bath.”

As if he needed an excuse to keep her naked. Following his acquiescence, Ariadne knelt. Azriel grit his mouth shut at the sight of her on her knees before him, taking him right back to the night in the hut. She unlaced his boots, then pressed her palms against his thighs to ease back up to her feet, a wicked smirk curling her perfect lips.

In mere moments, his clothes were off, and they returned to the tub, where she insisted on washing his hair. It’d grown during his time in Algorath—no longer at an appropriate length for a Lord Governor of Valenul. He was happy to put that title behind him despite the cost of losing it.

Azriel tilted his head back towards her, relishing the feeling of her fingers sliding through his hair and across his scalp. Her body pressed against him as she worked around the base of his horns, legs parted to accommodate him at such close range. Heat flowed through him that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

“Dhemons did not always lose their memories when separated from their mates, correct?”

The question was like a deluge of frozen water tossed on him. Azriel’s attention immediately shifted from the way her breasts moved against his back, her fingers caressing his skin, and the ease of accessibility to fuck her in that moment to the flood of memories from their time apart. Images of guards dragging him through the sand, roaring with untempered rage away from an unconscious fae; bloodied hands and the confusion as to why they looked that way; crying himself to sleep in the tiny cell.

“That’s what I was taught,” he confirmed, noting the way her hands slipped from his scalp to his shoulders, where she worked the knots of tension with strong hands. “I’ve never known a dhemon still connected to Keon, though. Most who lose their mate either went the same way as Ehrun…or kill themselves.”

Ariadne shifted onto her knees behind him and pressed her lips to the back of his neck. He’d tried to kill himself once, too. Madan had been the one to cut him from the rope. The meddlesome vampire had also been the one to tell her that little bit of history, which he would’ve preferred to have kept locked away forever.

“Do you think anyone can perform the ritual to connect with the Underworld?” Her voice was small as she washed his back and arms. “Even if they are not a dhemon?”

Azriel’s bond roared, demanding the missing connection between them. “I have to believe it’s possible.”

“And what if…” The question trailed away, her hands stilling.

He turned to face her, water sloshing over the sides of the tub. But where he expected to find apprehension at the idea of the ritual not working for her, he found instead a quiet determination shining in her eyes. “What if..?”

“What if Ehrun were to go through the ritual?”

That was not the question he had expected. He froze, that chill creeping back into his bones. Of all the times and places she could be thinking about him , it had to be when they were naked together?

“Then I assume he’d be reconnected with the Underworld,” Azriel said slowly, “and with Rhana.”

“And he would return to who he was before she died?”

Azriel didn’t want to talk about this. Not here or now. Not ever. There was a hardy compassion in his wife that he never wanted to go away, but empathy for that brute? It was too far.

“Ehrun is a monster and—”

“As were you.” Her words caught him off guard. Of course, she wasn’t wrong. Particularly after Algorath. She pushed forward, “And I would want someone to help you find your way back if anything were to happen to me.”

Oh, he was going to be sick. Curling his fingers into a fist, Azriel hid his hands below the sudsy water as he fought with the sensation of too-soft skin falling apart in his hands. His stomach roiled at the memory of her unseeing eyes and the tangle of the hair falling away from her decaying scalp. The very idea of anything— anything —happening to her set him on the precipice of losing all control.

“Azriel.” This time, her voice was firm. Commanding. “Look at me.”

Eyes snapping open, he blinked twice before realizing he’d even closed them. His chest heaved, and he looked at her unseeing at first. It wasn’t until her hand went to his cheek and he could smell her floral soap oils that he felt grounded again.

“I am here.” Ariadne eased closer, climbing over his legs to straddle his lap. “I am safe. I am yours.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. After a moment of pushing his cheek into her palm, the conversation slid back into focus. “Ehrun will never be the same again, but theoretically…he’ll remember everything and regain control of himself.”

A shadow crossed her gaze. “I think it is worth trying. Then we can face Loren with a united front.”

“Speaking like a true strategist.” He pulled her closer, needing nothing more than her touch. “But we can’t lure him to the ancient grounds until we know what to do.”

“Madan’s close.”

Azriel nodded. “So he is.”

“And as soon as we know,” she continued, stroking his cheek and scanning his face, “I want to do the ritual.”

“Are you certain?” He pressed his lips to her palm. “Once you do so, you will only have one destination for your afterlife: the Underworld.”

Ariadne cupped his face with both hands then, forcing him to look at her square in her oceanic gaze. “I would rather spend an eternity with you in the Underworld than ever lay eyes on the golden gates of Empyrean.”

Those were the words he—his bond included—needed to hear in that moment. That she would give up an afterlife of sunlight and peace for the dark, infernal depths of the Underworld underscored that although she had not bonded to him, she loved him more than words could describe.

Something in his chest cracked wide, and within an instant, the emotions he’d crushed and locked away poured forth. Tears broke free as he nodded his acceptance of her eternal sacrifice. She pushed them away with her thumbs, then brushed his lips with hers, slow and tender.

“I love you, Azriel.” Another kiss, firmer this time. “And if there is a way to ensure I am never parted from you…I will take it.”

Azriel pushed his fingers into her wet hair and crushed their mouths together. When he drew his tongue across her lips, she parted them for him and deepened the kiss. She curved her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck, and hummed with delight as she shifted her hips to rub along his hard length.

Just like that, she successfully distracted him from his own tumultuous emotions, not unlike the night they’d left for Monsumbra and he’d taken her in the carriage. Azriel wrapped his arms around her, brought his heels in close, and hoisted them both out of the bathtub. Water sloshed off them, and she hooked her feet around his waist so when he stepped onto the wood floor, she remained at the perfect height to continue their kiss.

Rather than soak their bed with bathwater, Azriel crossed to the blue-flamed fire on the far side of the room. Ariadne released her legs without warning and dropped her feet to the floor, forcing him to bend to keep his mouth on hers.

But it was what she planned to do with that mouth that made him pause. Before he could say a word, Ariadne wrapped her fingers around his cock and worked him from base to tip in a slow, steady rhythm. He froze at the electrifying touch, then pushed his wet hair back behind his horns.

Then she sank to her knees again, eyes swinging up to meet his, and slid his cock between her lips. The soft, wet heat of her mouth drew from him a long, low moan. He cast his gaze at the ceiling, the sight of her before him almost unbearable. Almost as unbearable as the feeling of her tongue.

There could be no taking this moment for granted, however. So Azriel readjusted to watch as she moved, hand and mouth working in tandem to accommodate his length. Each stroke brought more heat to her gaze as though she received just as much pleasure from performing the act as he did receiving it.

“Do you like that?” Azriel’s voice was huskier than usual as he swept her wet hair back from her face and held it in his fist at the crown of her head.

Her reply was a long, fervent suck.

Water rolled down her neck, squeezing free thanks to his grip in her dark hair and dripped from the tips of her tight nipples. He followed her movements, unable to hold back when his hips surged forward. It was her resulting moan, stifled by his cock, and the way her eyes shuttered that made him curse. There could be no denying that she enjoyed this.

When her free hand dropped between her thighs, Azriel almost lost all sense of himself. He thrust into her mouth again, and she took him to the back of her throat, her tongue stroking with each pull of her lips.

He never wanted the moment to end, but damn the gods, watching her take him was too much. When she moaned again, her fingers disappearing between her slick folds and eyes opening again to watch him, Azriel groaned loudly.

Then he pumped his hips hard just as his body tensed, his release ripping through him in waves. Hair still tangled in his fingers, Ariadne swallowed and drew her tongue along the bottom of his cock as though to coax every last drop from him. Each nerve fired with pleasure with the motion, and he savored the sight of her easing back, her lips sliding off his length with a final soft suck at the tip.

“Fuck, Ariadne…”

“Hmm.” Her swollen lips curled sensually, but she didn’t remove her hand from between her legs. “But are you ready for more?”

As if he could deny her pleasure from his body. “For you…always.”

At that, Ariadne stood and placed her hands on his chest. He took hold of the one she’d been using on herself and sucked the sweetness from her fingers. The sharp inhale sent another wave of heat through him.

Before Azriel knew what she was doing, the back of his legs bumped into a chair, and she shoved him into it. He sat, knees wide and cock already growing heavy again as she stepped forward, water glistening on her skin. Drawing his hands up her hips to her breasts, he pinched and rolled the hard pink tips so that she gasped, then let out a soft moan.

Ariadne eased onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Without a word, she struck. Burying her fangs into his neck was the final key to readying him for another round. The sharp sensation of pleasure zipped through his body, straight to his cock. And she took full advantage, rolling her hips against him.

One hand gripping his horn, Ariadne raised up onto her knees and used her free hand to angle him toward the entrance of her slick sex. She released his neck and, using both horns for balance, lowered herself onto his length.

Another groan. Azriel tilted his head back, bringing her closer to him when she didn’t let go of his horns, and relished the feeling of her heat. That he now had the opportunity to claim her body in more ways than one, he would take full advantage.

“You are so beautiful.” He swept a finger across her lower lip. Before he could take his hand away, Ariadne pulled it into her mouth as if she hadn’t just spent the last few minutes pleasuring him in precisely that manner. “Gods…”

When she released his finger, working her hips in a steady rhythm, she said, “I want to worship you like a god.”

He drew his hand down her throat, the blue of his skin matching the webbing of veins there. “Blasphemous.”

“What will they do?” she whispered, using his horns to leverage herself so that the full length of his cock slid in and out of her with each movement. “Send me to the Underworld? A pity…”

A wicked grin stretched across his face, and he took a moment to revel in the way her muscles flexed as she rode him. If he could spend eternity buried inside her, he would do just that. His hand slid from her throat to knead her heavy breast, drawing another moan from her. Swirling a thumb over her nipple, he leaned forward to slip the tight tip into his mouth.

Ariadne shuddered in response, pushing her body forward to provide him better access to her. Up and down…in and out. He sucked hard, teasing her with his sharp teeth and relishing the sound of her cries of pleasure.

Yes, he could live in this moment forever. Between her taking every inch of his cock—in her mouth and sex—and the glorious sounds he elicited from her, this was his personal heaven.

It was when her moans turned into whimpers that he knew she was close. She rolled her hips so that her sensitive bud rubbed against him just right with each stroke. Azriel switched his attention to her other breast, and Ariadne cried out his name, never releasing her grip on his horns to keep him in place. Right where she needed him. Right where he wanted to be.

Her climax had her gripping his cock tight as she moaned long and loud. Azriel rode out the pulsing sensation, and it wasn’t until she slowed that he sat back.

When Ariadne’s fingers loosened on his horns, he pushed them back into her palms. “Keep holding on, Yvhaltrinja .”

Doing as she was told, Ariadne tightened her grip again. Azriel held her hips and thrust himself up into her. She gasped, then breathed, “Gods…harder…”

“As you wish.” Azriel pumped his hips again, rocking her body with each impact.

Breasts bouncing and lips parted with an unvoiced cry, Ariadne once again took all of him. He watched his cock slide in and out of her, glistening with the remnants of her pleasure, and groaned. Before long, she met his thrusts, impaling herself on him with each long stroke.

Azriel barked a curse and came for a second time, spilling into her in a rush of heat. As he’d done for her, she rode out his release with vigor.

Then, at long last, she collapsed against him. Breathing hard, they sat there in the chair together for several rapid heartbeats. He shifted, easing himself out of her and eyeing the bathtub they’d be returning to shortly.

“I want to do that again,” Ariadne said, her head resting on his chest.

With a hum of assent, Azriel stroked her wet hair back and said, “I might need a minute.”

She sat back and brushed her lips across his. “No…I want to do that again on your throne.”

A wicked smirk cracked across his face. Something about repeating that venture with her in such a public area nearly made him ready for a third round. “Is that so?”

“Like I said…” She rolled her hips against him. “I want to worship you like a god.”

“Then we will do just that, my love.” Azriel kissed her neck, running his hands along her breasts and body. “I am yours to worship whenever you wish.”