Page 6

Chapter 5

“ A zriel,” Ariadne breathed, cupping his face in hers as he wheezed. His arms braced around her, one hand on the back of the throne and the other on the armrest. “Azriel!”

His ruby eyes bore to her, panic mixed with pain. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, but—”

“Kall!” Azriel groaned as he shifted back, a chorus of blades ringing free from their sheaths setting him on edge. His friend appeared, ready for the order. “Get her out of here.”

Ariadne’s heart lurched into her throat. “No, wait!”

But Kall already had his arm around her waist. She twisted in his hold as he hauled her off the throne and away from Azriel. Heat pricked her eyes and throat, robbing her of her cry for her husband. Though she struggled in his arms, her mind failed to recall the weeks of training. All she knew was that Azriel was injured and Kall took her from him. The air grew thin, her blood pounded in her ears, and she saw nothing— nothing —but the fear in her husband’s eyes.

The crowd parted for them, and again Ariadne looked back at Azriel, who reached over his shoulder and yanked the dagger from his back. A fresh wave of blood poured down his shirt. He watched as they crossed the threshold, then focused on the dhemon now unconscious on the floor with an expression she had never seen before.

Hate and anger could not begin to describe the emotions swirling within Azriel’s ruby gaze. Bared teeth, flared nostrils, and hard lines twisted his face into one from her terrors. There could be only one word to describe what she saw in that moment: vengeful.

Before she knew where they were, a blast of cold mountain air shocked Ariadne out of her panic. She sucked in a sharp breath, finally remembering herself, and pushed away from Kall. The front doors closed, cutting off the cacophony of shouting dhemons. In an instant the world fell quiet and peaceful.

None of it matched the screaming in Ariadne’s mind. She turned back to the keep and reached for the door, but Kall stepped in her way and shook his head.

“Let me go back,” she demanded, each breath burning her throat and lungs. There had been so much blood . Again. When last she saw him bleeding quite so much, he had been in the Pits…and he had been dying. When next she spoke, the words left her in a rasp, “He is hurt—I can help and…”

Kall’s brows pulled up in concern. “ Vhaltrin say no.”

Ariadne stared up at him with wide, blurry eyes. “Kall, I cannot watch him—”

The ground rumbled, and a breath of hot air on her back told her who had arrived before turning around. At first all she saw was a broad expanse of dark blue scales. If not for the vampiric night vision, the beast would have blended into the night sky behind him. As it were, Ariadne craned her head back to look at Razer’s long, reptilian face.

Not for the first time, Ariadne wished she could hear the dragon’s words. His eyes flickered to Kall before returning to her, his own frustration in the barrier between them evident. Razer extended his nose to her, ripples of heat rising from his nostrils. Before she could think of what she was doing, Ariadne rushed down the front steps and hugged the massive beast’s long maw.

Emotions welled in her chest. Fear. Helplessness. It had been weeks since both such feelings had hit her quite so hard. The keep brought out the worst in her—forcing her to forget everything Kall had spent weeks drilling into her mind and body. Forcing her to remember just how much pain this place had caused her.

“He fine,” Kall said, his voice low. “Phulan help.”

Ariadne did not need to ask how he knew this. Though she could not speak with Razer, Kall could do so through the vinculum between him and his own bondheart, Bindhe. That they could all communicate with one another with nothing more than a thought made her feel that much more like an outsider.

It did not matter how she dressed or acted in front of the dhemon leaders in the great hall, or how she was connected to Azriel. She would never have the same connection to the dhemons as those born and raised within their ranks. Even Madan, a full-blooded Caersan like her, had a far greater standing than she ever would.

They would never see her as their Queen, and the dagger aimed at her only underscored that.

Minutes slid by, slow and steady as dripping candle wax. After Ariadne accepted that Kall would not allow her to return to the keep, she took the opportunity to walk the grounds. Too often she ignored the rolling lawns in front of the keep and the trails winding through the nearby trees. More often than not, Ariadne took the first path up the side of the cliff in which the keep was built and lost herself in the training grounds at the top.

Razer lumbered alongside her as she made her way toward a steep dive into the mountain valley below. The moon hid behind a swath of clouds, darkening the night more than she wished so when she looked to the sprawling land below, her vampire eyes strained a little more than usual to pick up the light required to illuminate her vision. Far below, a thin river slithered its way along the valley floor—a black snake amongst the wild grasses and shrubbery.

It irked her, the beauty. How could something she had remembered as being so wretched be wrapped in something so magnificent? It was not fair.

“What was it like to grow up here?” Ariadne settled into the grass and looked up at her horned shadow.

Kall’s red eyes glowed as though studying her for a long moment. “I no grow up here.”

She tilted her head. “When did you come, then?”

A pained expression passed over his face at the question. Whatever memory that surfaced had not been one he wanted to acknowledge. “I follow my brother.”

Ariadne picked at the deep red dress, her fingers twisting into the soft fabric. “I did not know you had a brother. What happened to him?”

For a long moment, Kall did not reply. She waited patiently. After all, he did twice the work in their conversations by listening and translating her words in his mind, then formulating a response to translate back to her without losing its meaning.

But by the time he opened his mouth to speak, a strange fear twisting his features, the front doors of the keep whipped open and Azriel ran down the front steps. Ariadne’s heart leapt into her throat. She clambered to her feet and took off toward him. In his wake, Phulan followed, spewing a stream of curses.

“Are you hurt?” The words left Azriel in a rush as he crushed her into an embrace. He buried his face in her hair, curling black horn bumping her cheek, and breathed deep. “Are you safe?”

Ariadne nodded and swept her fingers through the loose strands of his hair, stomach churning as warm liquid slid over the hand she laid on his back. “I am. But you are—”

“He would be healed if he sat still!” Phulan pried Ariadne’s hand away. “Let me help you, you idiot boy.”

A deep, warning growl, not unlike a starving dog protecting its meal, rumbled from Azriel’s chest. He pulled back from Ariadne to level a glare at the mage akin to how he had stared down Loren or Ehrun. His fingers gripped her body tighter, forcing her back to bend as he pulled her in close.

“Azriel,” Ariadne breathed, sliding her hand from his hair to his face. He swiveled his gaze back to her and it softened again. “You have to let her help. I am safe. I promise.”

Tension eased from Azriel. His fingers relaxed and when she took a step back, he let her go. After a long moment in which he screwed up his eyes in a strange concentration, he nodded and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Phulan. Please continue.”

Eyes closed tight, he grunted as Phulan’s magic seeped from her hands, into the wound on his back. Ariadne took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, her free hand cupping his face.

Phulan worked in silence, and Kall stood silent in the shadows, his face revealing nothing. They would finish their conversation another time. For now her husband needed her attention. And she owed him an earful after sending her away.

By the time the mage finished, the last of Azriel’s tension had faded. He thanked her before turning back to Ariadne and studying her face. The mage, dhemon, and dragon departed after that, leaving the two of them alone. Razer circled once overhead, no doubt speaking with Azriel before sweeping into the darkness.

“Why did you send me away?” The question left her before she could temper her tone. She bit her lip and searched his ruby eyes, a tightness forming in her throat again. “I did not know if you…”

Azriel’s brows pinched together, and he leaned his cheek into her hand. “I’m sorry, my love.”

“I can help,” she rasped. “After seeing you in the Pits, where I could not…I want to be with you. I need to.”

Sorrow swept through his gaze at the memory. He slipped his arms around her, bringing her close again and when next he spoke, his voice dripped with an agony she could not comprehend. “I understand, but…they attacked you . I didn’t know who else would try to hurt you and if they succeeded…”

A heavy weight dropped in her gut. She had not considered there could have been more than one attacker. From her vantage point, it had appeared to be the one dhemon whom Madan had easily disarmed. “Azriel—”

“I’ve seen you dead once.” He cradled her face in his hands and rubbed a thumb across her cheek, silver lining his eyes as they followed the motion. “I begged for death as I held your head and it fell apart in my hands.”

Gods, he had not given her these details before. They had been one of the many things too painful to speak of. Her heart cracked at the thought of his pain.

“I cannot live without you, Ariadne,” he breathed and those tears let loose, sliding down his cobalt cheeks. “I could only think of you . Of what I’d do if anything— anything —happened to you. I couldn’t bear it.”

Ariadne rose on her tip-toes and brushed her lips to his. The saltiness from his tears only broke her heart more. His hands slid around her again so when he brought their mouths together with more force, she was braced and ready for it. Lips parted, tongues clashed, and for the first time in too many nights together, Ariadne relaxed into him.

Twisting her fingers into his hair, she pressed her body against his, eager for his touch anywhere and everywhere. She wanted—no, needed —to feel him. All of him.

And Azriel responded in kind. He changed levels, cupping the back of her thighs to lift her high enough to wrap her legs around his waist where she hooked her feet together to keep from slipping. The slitted skirt parted so his rough palms slid along bare skin up to grip her rear.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Ariadne tilted her head to the side. An invitation. Her heart pounded in anticipation for it was the first time she desired to feel any part of him inside her since arriving in that miserable place. And, gods, did she need him. It ached in her core and pulsed through her veins. Every word and promise, spoken and unspoken, before entering the great hall returned to her tenfold.

You rival the gods . Oh, the way he had looked at her—not with fear or anxiety, but with burning lust—had been enough to tell her precisely what he desired.

Yet he hesitated. He drew a fang over her throat, the long point sending a shiver down her spine, then stopped. “Ariadne…”

“Do not stop,” she breathed, squeezing her legs gently around his waist. “I want to feel you.”

His responding rumble of satisfaction preceded the strike. A sharp pain ricocheted through her body, accompanied by her soft gasp, before the sweet, alluring pull of each drink eased every tense muscle. One arm still looped around his neck, she buried her fingers into his hair again to hold him there, not wanting him to stop until he was sated. Phulan may have closed his wound, but his still-healing body needed her blood more than he would admit.

When Azriel pulled free with a low, approving growl, he seemed to vibrate with energy. In a few quick steps, he had her pinned to a tree and his erection pressed against the sensitive crux of her legs. He kissed the spot on her neck already healing and shifted his hand from her rear, to her hip, then pushed the fabric of her dress out of the way so he could have access to her sex. A fire blazed through her veins at each movement.

He cursed under his breath. “You’re so wet for me.”

Ariadne need not say a word. She rolled her hips forward, a silent invitation, and he drew his fingers over her to tease her sensitive bud. Her soft, responding moan was all the encouragement he required.

With the heel of his hand rubbing her just right, Azriel eased two fingers into her. She sucked in a sharp breath and shifted to give him better access. Every part of her went into a frenzy—simultaneously wanting more and adjusting to accommodate what he already gave.

Azriel planted kisses down her throat and along her collar bone. Each brush of his lips sent a fresh wave of heat through her so when he sank to his knees, her legs melted apart to give him whatever access he sought. The slow descent, matched with the rhythmic pulse of his hand and trail left by his lips, only heightened her eagerness.

“ Yvhaltrinja ,” he murmured, pushing her legs over his shoulders and banishing the skirt to the side, exposing her to him. “I kneel for no one but you.”

Between the view of him between her thighs and the building tension in her core, Ariadne almost did not piece together the meaning of the dhemon word he used. My Queen . But it was the promise following the term that was her undoing.

Pulling his fingers from her, Azriel slipped them into his mouth with a hum of indulgence, his crimson eyes blazing through the darkness up at her. Only when he appeared content with his work did he shift forward and draw his tongue through her wet folds. The slow, languid motion making it clear he intended to take his time.

Ariadne gripped a spiraling black horn, the annuli fitting so perfectly between her fingers, and moaned, tilting her hips forward. He growled with approval, working her throbbing bud with his warm mouth.

“Gods…” she breathed, never taking her eyes from him.

He paused, tongue teasing slowly before easing his fingers into her again and saying, “No, my love…the gods have nothing to do with this.”

The words did not register. She panted as he worked her again, mind clouded with pleasure. Tilting her head back against the tree, Ariadne closed her eyes and rolled her hips to stroke his fingers along that perfect place inside her.

“That’s it,” he said, kissing her inner thigh.

Then his mouth was on her again—hot and eager as he sucked and lapped. Her gasp of surprise had her looking down at him again. Now his eyes closed, a groan vibrating through him straight to her core.

To see this man—this dhemon she loved more than anything in the world—indulging in her pleasure with such ferocity had that tide of heat rising in her. Her hips surged forward, seeking more of him, and he held firm. Each pump of his fingers. Each lick of his tongue. Each suck of his lips.

And all of it for her. Not once did he seek to release his own tension. His focus remained solely on her. On coaxing her to the edge. On ensuring she remained the priority in that moment. Though she wished to return the favor, Ariadne dared not halt him. He needed this reminder of her safety as much as she needed the release.

All too soon, her climax crashed through her like waves. Her sex gripped his fingers hard, and he rode out each roll of her hips while she cried out his name. That blazing red gaze found hers, ensuring she watched as he pulled away, dragging his tongue once more over her bud.

“That’s right, my love,” he said huskily, drawing his fingers free and licking them clean as he had before. “I only want to hear my name on your lips as you find your pleasure.”

Ariadne laughed breathily in response—as if she would ever find such satisfaction with anyone else. “As you wish.”

“Hmm.” Something flashed in his eyes. He eased her legs from his shoulders and righted her skirt before sliding his hands up her body until he stood before her. Holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head back so she looked up at his beautiful face, haloed by his black horns. “I quite like that. Do you know what else I wish?”

A dozen thoughts flashed through her mind at the question. Him picking her up and taking her against that tree. Her kneeling before him, mouth full. Returning to that throne to ride him into blissful pleasure.

“What is that, alhija ?”

Azriel kissed her softer this time, the taste of her still on his lips. “I wish for this moment to never end.”

And with what was to come, did that not just break her heart?

“ Vhaltrin .” Whelan’s voice drew their attention. The dhemon slowed to a halt at the sight of them and cast his gaze down. “The clan leaders are ready for their oaths.”

Ariadne tilted her head. “Oaths?”

“Blood oaths.” Azriel swallowed hard and studied her expression. “To ensure their allegiance moving forward.”

Her stomach dropped, remembering that night in Melia’s chateau when she had gone to speak with him about that exact topic. Instead, they discovered him drugged and manipulated by another mage.

“Are you well, my love?” His brows furrowed.

It took her a long moment to reply. She looked to Whelan, still averting his gaze, then back up at her husband. Pushing the memory away was no easy feat—not when his confusion so vividly reminded her of when he had charged from the room in search of her—but also not impossible. “I will be.”

“Do you wish to watch?”

She hesitated again, then nodded. “Yes, I would like that very much.”