Page 38

Chapter 37

A riadne would not cry. She would not let Loren see any tears—none that he could misconstrue as relief. None that he could correctly identify as grief. None that he could ever use against her. Instead, her throat closed in an attempt to hold in every ounce of pain as it coursed through her heart.

This had not been what she expected. Loren was not supposed to be here. She was meant to be taken back by the soldiers, who would put her in her family home where she could find the book and be done with the haphazard mission she had plotted for herself. All of it, she had hoped, could take place before she even saw Loren Gard again and had the chance to escape—to return to the man who needed her most.

The man to whom her heart truly belonged.

“He is a monster,” Ariadne whispered, stomach roiling at the thought of what those words would do to Azriel if he were to ever hear them. But she could not stop. She could not let up on the ruse if she wanted this to work.

After all, every step she took was for Azriel, no matter how much it hurt.

Loren appearing just meant she had to alter her plan—as though she had had much of one to begin with. Honestly, how had she expected to run away a second time? Did she truly believe that anyone would let her wander the grounds or get anywhere near Laeton proper without a chaperone? She was a fool to think this would be a quick jaunt into the Harlow Estate to collect nothing but a book.

The smirk that curled Loren’s mouth had her fingers rolling into a fist. She wanted to punch that smug expression straight off his face. It would not be the first time she hit him. At this rate, that would not even be the last time.

“Where is he now?” Loren looked up over her shoulder in the general direction of the ridge where the cave was. Where Azriel could very likely be in that moment. Loren got to his feet, and Ariadne followed suit, still shaking as she held onto his outstretched hand. “I will put an end to this once and for all.”

“No!” Ariadne gripped him harder.

But Loren did not acknowledge her. He took another step to hunt down her husband, so she did the one thing she could think of to take his mind off what he planned to do—the one thing she knew would distract him long enough to make him leave with her then and there.

Ariadne grabbed Loren’s face and slammed her mouth to his. She pressed her body against him, picturing Azriel as she did so to keep from breaking.

To her utter despair, it worked. Loren wrapped an arm around Ariadne’s waist and pinned her close to him, deepening the kiss. It took every ounce of willpower to keep from shoving him away, from screaming in disgust, from turning and running back to Azriel.

It did not matter how many soldiers Loren had with him. Azriel would butcher them all. He and Razer would annihilate every single one of those crimson-clad men before she could even get back to them.

But she could not go back. Not if she wanted to return to him with the information they so desperately needed—the information that would keep him from ever breaking again. Assuming, of course, that this betrayal did not ruin him completely.

Because that was what this was, and Ariadne knew it. She had promised him she would not leave after he knew—he knew —she would do anything to protect her sister. Protect her friends. After finding Revelie’s finger, it had plagued Ariadne. In that moment, she knew only her presence would keep Loren from doing something worse. Something with which she could never live if it happened.

So she let Loren kiss her. She hardened herself against the crash of despair that threatened to strangle her and kept Azriel’s face in the forefront of her mind. It was all she could do to hold herself together.

Too soon, the illusion shattered when Loren pulled back, brushed a wild curl from her face, and breathed, “I have waited so long for this.”

“Take me home,” she whispered back, forcing herself to look up into his sapphire eyes with as much honesty as she could muster. It likely was not much, yet from their interactions, Ariadne knew he did not seek depth in her eyes. He saw what he wanted on the surface: her in his arms like the perfect little wife of whom he always dreamed.

“I will kill him for all he has done to you,” Loren swore, turning his attention back toward the mountain.

Ariadne shook her head. “Please. He will come for me in time—you will get your chance. Take me home.”

Another pulse of sharp pain shot through Ariadne’s head. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut tight, pushing away from Loren so she could double over as a wave of nausea rocked through her gut.

“What is it?” Loren asked, his voice sounding so far away.

But it was Azriel’s voice sweeping through her mind that knocked the wind from her lungs. “ She promised she wouldn’t leave me …”

“Azriel…” His name escaped Ariadne on a pitiful moan. She covered her mouth to keep the cry of despair from making its way out. No matter how much she tried to reach through the strengthening vinculum, she could not find him. Could not latch onto his consciousness to reassure him that she was safe and that she would come back to him.

Loren’s voice startled her. “Miss Harlow—”

“Get me out of here,” she gasped, scrambling for something—anything—that would convince the man in front of her that they needed to leave immediately.

If Azriel got to them…they may never get the book.

Even with the dragons, they risked too much. Every one of those soldiers would put themselves between Azriel and their King. Of all who would live to fight another day, it would be Loren. And Loren would use everything he had to not only kill Azriel, but Madan and Whelan and all their bondhearts.

After all, the dragons could not use their fire in a fight like this. It would destroy everything in sight, petering out only when it had nothing left to burn. As such, innocent lives in nearby villages would be at risk. Though Ariadne knew Azriel did not care when it came to keeping her safe, Razer, Brutis, and Oria would refuse. They would end up even more injured than they likely were from their airborne battle against Ehrun.

“Please, Loren,” she grit out through the thrumming headache, hoping her desperation caught his attention. “Before he can take me back. He poisoned my mind.”

“Fae enchantments.” A sneer twisted Loren’s handsome face, and he tucked her close to him. “We leave immediately, then.”

“Thank you.” She clutched his crimson cloak and closed her eyes against the steady pounding in her head. It ebbed and flowed like a current, each time easing a degree more as, simultaneously, the vinculum strengthened.

“ Who is he to you ?” The dragon’s voice was back, quieter. Sweeter. More tender than before as another image of Azriel flashed through her mind.

He knelt on the floor of the garnet cave, holding his horns and rocking as though to soothe himself like a child. Emillie got to her knees before him and took his midnight face in her hands, forcing his red eyes to focus on her. What her sister said to him, Ariadne could not make out. She spoke in whispers as she swept the tears off Azriel’s cheeks.

There was so much Ariadne wanted to tell the dragon. So many things she could say about who he was to her. On the surface, he was her husband. The man who showed her love when the world felt cold and dark and hopeless. He was the one who protected her at all costs, putting himself in the way of danger and begging her to be more cautious. He was the beat of her heart, even as it cracked in her chest to know she had broken her promise to him. He was the one who made life worth living, for he had shown her how beautiful life was even when she wanted nothing more than to curl up and let time pass without her.

Yet despite all he was to her, despite the way he filled her soul with that pure desire to be better, all Ariadne could say back was two words. Everything Azriel was to her boiled down to those two words to which she clung.

“ My mate .”

An innate understanding swept between her and the dragon, and all at once, the pain eased. The vinculum, solid and strong, snapped into place, and the headache that accompanied the connection vanished.

The dragon’s voice was small as it said, “ He’s sad …”

“ Tell him I am sorry ,” she said as she and Loren reached the highway where even more soldiers stood waiting for them. He led her to the stallion decorated with the gold and crimson of Valenul. At the rear of his retinue, two massive ballistae pointed toward the mountain with soldiers ready to shoot. “ I am so sorry for leaving .”

“ What is your name , little one ?” said a voice Ariadne had never heard before. It was light and sweet, and with it came the image of green scales and the feeling of wind rushing under wings—Oria.

“ My siblings ,” said her bondheart, sharing the impression of many hatchlings that once surrounded her and one by one disappeared with their bondhearts—the eggs that had long since hatched in the cave. “ They called me Almandine .”

“ Almandine .” The name suited her—she knew it though Ariadne had not even seen the dragon.

“Up you go,” Loren said, snapping Ariadne’s attention back to the physical world.

He held out his hand, and she took it with as little hesitation as she could muster. She swung up to the ornate saddle, hating herself as he mounted the stallion behind her and held her close to him as he turned the horse and started down the highway.

“Soldiers!” Loren called to those around him. “I want a dozen with me.”

Ariadne’s heart skipped a beat. No…he would not. He would not risk it, knowing the dragons were with Azriel.

Looking up at him with wide eyes, she shook her head. “Loren, please do not.”

“The rest of you,” he continued, ignoring her words as he always did, “find that half-breed bastard.”

“Wait,” she breathed, scrambling to keep up with what was happening. Of course he would not listen to her. He thought her to be an empty-minded fool of a woman who had no reason to be considered beyond the potential between her legs. That was all she was good for in his eyes.

Loren pressed on, “I want his head delivered to me at the castle by tomorrow’s dawn so I can mount it above my throne on our wedding night.”

“He will kill them all,” Ariadne said as the soldiers divided up, with most disappearing into the forest, their crimson uniforms fading into the darkness. “You are sacrificing good, brave men. You will need them later to—”

“Silence, my pet.” He took hold of her jaw and brushed his thumb over her lips. Cold, sapphire eyes followed the trail he created there with desire. “Queens do not speak over their kings. It is difficult, I know, for you to understand how a monarchy works here in Valenul, but I will teach you. That is why you came back to me, yes? To kneel before me like a good little wife and do as I say.”

Loren fucking Gard was, by all accounts, the foulest man Ariadne had ever had the displeasure of knowing. His words snaked over her skin like oil that burned her from the inside.

Yet despite the rise of bile in her throat, Ariadne forced herself to relax in his arms as she simpered back to him, “Anything for you.”

His responding grin made her stomach roil as he gripped her face a little harder and pressed his mouth to hers. When he pulled away, Loren murmured against her lips, “Good girl. You learn so fast.”

If Ariadne made it through all of her interactions with this man without getting sick, she would be utterly impressed with herself. As it were, she swallowed hard and waited for him to let her go before turning away. Too much of a fight, and he would likely hurt her. Again.

They picked up the pace, and before long, they were crossing the river fed by the southern reaches of Lake Cypher. The rumble of horse hooves on the long, stone bridge made her heart ache in rhythm to the sound. It was then, only when she was certain Loren was no longer focused on her, that Ariadne closed her eyes and let the silent tears roll down her cheeks.

Agony.

There could be no other singular word to describe what Azriel felt the moment he realized his worst fear had been realized: pure, undiluted agony akin to dying. Though he had never experienced it firsthand, the sensation of Kall’s death remained fresh in his soul. The absolute shattering of his bond could only be compared to what he knew it to be—endless pain. Mind-numbing misery.

Gut-wrenching hollowness that echoed in his mind.

Voices continued around him. People spoke. People moved. The dragons tried to pick their way into his mind, but when his knees hit the garnet floor, fingers curled around his horns, and his heart turned to ash, he heard none of them.

What he heard instead was everything he never wanted to hear again.

I hate you more than you hate yourself . Ariadne’s voice just before she slammed the door behind her, leaving him behind in more ways than one. In that moment, kneeling on the foyer floor of the Caldwell’s Laeton manor, Azriel believed himself to be at his lowest. To have finally reached that point of no return.

That Azriel knew nothing of pain.

Then an old wound ached from his thigh as Ehrun’s words struck down any glimmer of hope he once had: She would never love a half-breed bastard like you . I’m doing you a favor, really .

Half-breed bastard. Loren always called him that. The words hurt worse now than they ever had. Maybe Ehrun had been right. He should have died that night in Auhla . If he’d just let it happen then…he wouldn’t be suffering as he did now.

Madan appeared before him and spoke, yet the words were nothing but a muffled thrum in his ears. It felt as though his head had been shoved underwater. No sound made it through. Oxygen escaped him.

Gods, his lungs burned. Was he even breathing? How could he when she was gone? She was the very air he required to live. Without her, he would no doubt drown. Drown and never resurface again.

And he wouldn’t want to—not to a world where she didn’t exist.

“ He is a monster .”

A wail cracked through the hum of pain. Monster . That was all he was to her: a monster . How long had she looked at him and thought such things? How many times did he take this form—the form of a beast and the brute who stole her happiness away—and she felt sickened by him?

Why did she wait so long to leave? Why would she ever give him hope?

You did this . This is your fault . This is what you deserve.

Every horrible second was because of him. Melia was right. She had always been right. He didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve the love and light of a reciprocated bond.

He deserved to suffer.

“ Where is he now ?” Loren’s voice felt like knives in Azriel’s chest. He saw through Ariadne’s eyes while the vampire turned as though to find him, a monster , ready to rip them apart. “ I will put an end to this once and for all .”

Ariadne’s voice, frightened and desperate, tugged at the bond. “ No !”

But it was what came next that sent Azriel reeling. The kiss burned into his mind, and he pressed his horns to the floor as an unbidden scream tore from his throat.

How she did not hear it or feel it despite being so far away, Azriel would never know. All he knew was the darkness that crept in at the corners of her vision.

“What is happening ?” a woman’s voice cried over the cacophony in his mind. It sounded too much like Ariadne’s.

He hated it. Hated whoever said those words.

Madan explained, “Our minds are connected through the dragons, and he can see and hear everything Ariadne’s saying and doing…”

“What is it?” Emillie. Her name was Emillie. Ariadne’s sister. Of course they sounded alike. They looked alike, too.

Gods, he hated her. Hated that voice. Hated the way it stoked the burning in his veins.

“She’s convincing Loren,” Madan said cautiously, “that she was tricked by Azriel so he’ll take her to Laeton. She kissed—”

“I will kill him.” The words left Azriel on a rasping breath. Beneath him, the garnet fogged with his breath. He closed his eyes against the incoming exchange between Ariadne and Loren. “I want them all dead .”

Madan, still crouched in his periphery, said, “We will, Brother. I swear to you. We’ll get her back.”

No…no, she thought he was a monster. Why would he want to confirm her beliefs?

“ He poisoned my mind .” Ariadne’s words again stabbed a knife through his heart. It would’ve felt better if she’d actually done it. He’d take a blade in his chest any day just for her to take it back. To tell him she meant none of it.

Sitting up, still holding his horns, Azriel rocked back and forth. It was the only sensation that brought any solace, and even that did little to comfort him.

It was when Emillie knelt before him, taking his face in her hands, that he froze. Froze as she forced his gaze to her face—the face so very much like Ariadne’s. Pale skin, stunning blue eyes, and rosy lips. Her hair, though, was lighter than her sister’s. The freckles across her nose were more pronounced.

But something about her touch eased the knot in his chest, making him pause amidst the throws of his agony to listen. It reminded him of another dark time when Madan held him as he cried—after Madan had cut the rope from around his neck and soothed the pain that crushed his soul.

The blood in her veins sang to the bond, like an echo of what should be there to keep the beast inside at bay.

“Ariadne loves you more than anything in this world,” Emillie said in that voice that sounded so much like hers . It soothed him yet simultaneously sent waves of fire through his chest. “She loves you , Azriel.”

“I’m a monster.” He tried to shake his head, but she held him firm. “I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this .”

Emillie brushed a thumb across his cheek. Try as he might to turn from her, she tightened her grip. She had more of that vampiric strength than she let on. “Listen to me.”

Azriel searched her eyes, letting the blue tide within them drag him away from the agony. His hands dropped from his horns into his lap.

“She is doing this for you .”

“But she said—”

“Shut up and listen, damn you!”

The words coming from Emillie shocked Azriel so much that he actually snapped his mouth shut and stared at her with wide eyes. Beside him, Madan muttered something under his breath about how being demanding must run in the family. If Emillie hadn’t already done all but threatened to yank his head from his shoulders, Azriel probably would’ve hit his half-brother.

“There is a book at the Harlow Estate,” Emillie explained with as much calm, collected composure as he’d ever seen from her. Each word was spoken after carefully weighing it to determine its value to him. “It is written in the dhemon language and has accounts of rituals and historic events.”

None of the words made sense. Azriel rasped, “But why did she leave me?”

“Because she was protecting you.” Emillie eased the pressure from his face ever so slightly before releasing him entirely. What she saw in him to make her believe he would not harm himself or run after Ariadne, he wasn’t certain. Gods, he wasn’t even certain he wouldn’t run. Nonetheless, she continued, “They would have found us if she had not gone to him. And if Loren found this place…he would destroy it all.”

Azriel looked around them at the walls of garnet. His brother sitting back on his heels, looking at a loss for words. The fae watching the interaction with keen interest. A new hatchling that edged closer and closer.

“ Who is he to you ?” The small dragon’s voice was quiet.

It was Ariadne’s response, though—a little more distant now—that made his breath catch. “ My mate .”

Azriel’s heart cracked even more. He looked up at the hatchling in sorrowful wonder. Ariadne had never used that word for what he was to her. Her husband, perhaps, or her love. But never had she used such a final word as that.

“ He’s sad …”

“ Tell him I am sorry . I am so sorry for leaving him …”

The words warred with what his bond screamed—the doubt it tried to weave into his mind. Decapitation. Falling to her death. Worse, falling in love with Loren fucking Gard. It all clamored about inside him, fighting for the dominant position.

But between the connection that snapped fully into place between Ariadne and her bondheart and the proximity to Emillie and Madan, Azriel felt a true breath enter his lungs for the first time in what felt like a century. He heard Emillie’s words for what they were: the truth. And Ariadne’s despair at leaving him washing through her uncontrolled vinculum only settled him further.

“Almandine.” The name left him, and the dragon turned to survey him a little more. “Your name is Almandine.”

“ Yes .” At that, the dragon nudged his horn. “ The soldiers are coming for you .”

Setting his jaw, Azriel shoved back to his feet. The unseen, gaping wound in his chest yawned open. Every movement shot that horrible pain through him, but what it did most now was coax the inferno of rage building inside him.

Before anyone could speak or try to stop him, he turned and started up the passage back toward the exit. Behind him, Emillie called his name, asking where he was going. Madan explained with a slew of curses.

“Azriel!” Madan’s voice echoed up the passage after him.

It didn’t register. He didn’t care anymore. Fueled by a shredded bond, haunted by horrible memories, and—most importantly—alone, Azriel was more than ready to slaughter a company of Valenul soldiers.

He’d do anything for his mate .