Page 11 of THE SOULBOND AND HER BELOVED (Beasts Of Wrath And Madness #4)

Chapter eleven

SCORCHING HEAT

“What!?” Madam Livia’s eyes widened in astonishment.

In a flurry of movement, she was rushing out the door, shouting for the nearest soldier. “Go to Mabblewood and tell Grand Lord Ottai to send a messenger bird to Grand Lord Vladya immediately! And fetch Amie at once!”

Emeriel turned back to her sister with a pounding heart.

“Heat?” Aekeira panted, struggling to sit up. “N-no, that can’t be right.”

Slipping an arm around her, Emeriel steadied her to support her weight. "Your eyes are red, Keira. You are sweating up a storm."

“But that’s only for Syrens, and I—” a sharp gasp left Aekeira as she twisted uncomfortably, her flushed skin growing slicker with sweat. “Em… I don’t feel good.”

“I know,” Emeriel murmured, holding her even closer. “I know, dear sister.”

“I r-really don’t feel good.” Aekeira squirmed, pressing a hand to her stomach. “There’s this fire… burning inside me, and I—I really want to take off my clothes.”

“You can't. Not yet.” Emeriel’s thoughts were racing, heart wanting to hammer its way out of her chest.

It was a long journey to the Oracle’s Haven. The grand rulers had left early this morning, which meant they could still be on the road. How much longer would it take for Lord Vladya to return? Could Aekeira hold out that long?

Madam Livia returned, carrying a wooden cup in one hand and a tankard of water in the other. Setting the tankard down by the bedside, she handed the cup to Emeriel. “She must stay hydrated.”

Taking it, Emeriel held it to Aekeira’s lips, guiding her as she took small sips.

Her sister’s hands shook, some of the water spilling down her chin, but she managed to drink a little.

As Emeriel pulled the cup away, a prickling sensation crawled over her arm, and she scratched it absentmindedly.

“This must definitely be the sign the Oracle told Lord Vladya to watch for,” Madam Livia whispered, half to herself, half in wonder. “Aekeira is a Syren. She has been one all along, but because of His Highness’s lost soul, her traits laid dormant.”

“You think so too?” Those were Emeriel’s exact thoughts, but she had never voiced them to avoid giving her sister false hope. Aekeira would be in so much pain if she were wrong.

“Think about it,” Madam Livia said, thoughtful. “How did it happen for you ? You went into heat your first day in the Citadel because you were in close proximity to King Daemonikai’s beast. Aekeira’s traits remained dormant because there was no soul to trigger them. I had suspected this before but dismissed it because it seemed too good to be true. But now…” Madam Livia shook her head, her aged eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

“Their greatest challenge has just been taken care of. Aekeira is a Syren— compatible with him .” The older woman exhaled a shaky breath. “Oh, Emeriel… there is a chance their bonding ritual might actually work . ”

Warmth spread through Emeriel’s chest, expanding until she thought it might burst.

Everything they had prayed for, everything they had hoped for. Something that had seemed so impossible.

Tears stung her vision. She looked down at Aekeira, whose half-lidded eyes were unfocused, whimpers falling from her parted lips, lost in her own suffering.

“Keira…” Emeriel brushed a hand over her cheek. “We need to move you to the bed. Do you think you can manage?”

Aekeira blinked sluggishly, and whispered, “Okay…”

With Madam Livia’s help, they carefully moved Aekeira from the floor and eased her back onto the mattress.

Groaning, Aekeira tugged desperately at her garments. "I want them off!" Fists clenching into the fabric wherever she could grasp. “I need them off!”

“Alright, alright.” Emeriel helped her strip away the layers of damp clothing, working as quickly as she could.

Within moments, Aekeira lay naked beneath the sheets, her skin flushed, her breath uneven.

Emeriel bit her lips. Despite her excitement over this breakthrough for her sister, she was worried out of her mind.

Trying hard not to dwell on the fact that, very soon, the painful waves of full heat would begin—and Aekeira’s male was still halfway across the world.

Pulling away from her sister, who had curled into herself, Emeriel motioned for Madam Livia to follow her outside, far enough to be out of earshot.

“Why not a mini heat?” The hushed whisper held a great deal of Emeriel's worry. “Why shove her straight into a full heat?” Her gaze flicked back to the room. “She’s not ready for this, Madam Livia.”

The head maid appeared just as worried. “Every person’s heat is different, Princess. We can only hope hers is not as intense as yours.”

Scratching at her neck, Emeriel shook her head. “I’m sick with unease. Do you think Lord Ottai has already sent the bird?”

“Are you alright?" Madam Livia’s brows pinched as she studied Emeriel closely. "You seem restless, too.”

“Of course, I am restless! I do not know my sister's fate right now." Emeriel began to pace the short corridor, wringing her hands together. "Her fever is burning so intensely. I swear I can almost feel the heat myself—"

"What I am hearing, is it true?" Grand Lord Ottai's deep voice boomed down the hall, and a moment later, he appeared with his soldiers. "Is Aekeira truly going into heat?"

Madam Livia bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s really true.”

“Oh, by the gods! Oh, Ukrae!” A wide smile split the Grand Lord's face. “She’s a Syren! She’s really in heat—hell, I can smell her all the way from over here. Her scent is too strong.”

Turning to Emeriel with excitement, he pulled her into a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. “You and your sister are compatible with my kind!”

Emeriel let out a startled laugh, swallowing a wince as her skin prickled and burned in response to his touch.

“I am so relieved, so ecstatic, I could kiss you right now if I were not certain the ancient one would send me six feet below for it!" Lord Ottai exclaimed. "This is the best news I have heard all week."

Unable to bear his touch any longer, Emeriel wiggled out of his grasp. “I am just as excited, Your Majesty,” she said, catching her breath. “But let us hope Lord Vladya arrives before the waves start.”

As if doused with cold water, the smile vanished from the ruler's face, and his expression paled.

"Yes, yes, about that," Lord Ottai spoke. "I have already sent out the message. I dispatched one of our fastest messenger birds. At this point, we can only hope…"

***

Grand Lord Vladya and Grand King Daemonikai waited just outside the Oracle’s Haven. The royal entourage had already proceeded to the shrine for the Celestial Offering.

Her dwelling bore celestial patterns intertwined with ancient runes, glowing faintly under the shifting light.

The oak door creaked open, and the Oracle emerged with her back to them, balancing a bundle of herbs in her arms. But when she turned and saw them, she looked surprised.

"What are you doing here, Your Majesties? You should not have come."

“Today is the Celestial Offering from the southern people,” Daemonikai reminded her patiently. “We are here to observe the rites, as is our duty.”

"I am well aware of that." She placed the bundle of herbs on the ground before rising. "But you rarely attend such ceremonies. I assumed you would not trouble yourselves to be here. And you—" Her eyes shifted to Vladya. "You are not even a Southerner. You rule the Western Clans. What business do you have here?"

"The Oracle’s home is open to all, and the Oracle receives whomever seeks her. The Oracle does not discriminate," Vladya recited the sacred book with amusement.

The grumpy old lady huffed, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "That damned book again."

Daemonikai's brow furrowed. "Do you truly not wish us here?"

Vladya was bothered too. He could not recall a time when she had hesitated to grant them an audience.

She sighed, shaking her head. "That is not it, Great Grand King, and I apologize if I have given that impression. But your females are entering their heat cycles. You should not be here."

The moment the words left her lips, she doubled over, coughing violently.

Blood spattered to the ground, her face contorted in pain.

Vladya scoffed. "Let me guess, you have just said something you should not have—wait." His face changed when the words hit home. "Our females? Going into heat?"

The Oracle straightened, wiping the blood from her mouth. "I have already begun, I may as well finish. Yes, the princesses have entered the peak of their cycles. Now, more than ever, they need their males with them."

Daemonikai's mouth was agape as he stared at her blankly.

But Vladya could not help wearing a deep scowl. "Wait, Oracle. There seems to be a misunderstanding. Aekeira cannot go into—"

"She can. And she has," the Oracle interrupted impatiently. "I told you to watch for the signs, did I not? Your woman has always been a Syren, compatible with you. Why do you think your connection with her has always run so deep, even in the beginning, when you believed you hated her?” She wiped the blood from her chin. “Why did you feel those urges whenever you were intimate with her—to unleash on her, release in the womb? Why did her blood call to you? Why do the voices in your head always go silent when she is near? Why do your feral episodes now come fewer and farther between?”

Her words struck Vladya like a hammer against an anvil.

"You have been with your Soulbond all along, Grand Lord Vladya.” The Oracle coughed blood again. "The first ritual was successful. And because her traits were long overdue to manifest, the slightest nudge at the place where your soul should be shot her straight into a full heat."

Vladya heard every word, but they collided with a wall in his head.

Syren?

Soulbond?

His knees went weak, nearly collapsing to the ground.

Daemonikai was suddenly there, steadying him with a firm grip.

Vladya turned his bewildered gaze to his friend, searching for reassurance. He found a slow, genuine smile on that face.

So Daemonikai had heard it too. The words were truly spoken.

Not conjured from countless dreams.

Not a hope he had dared not voice aloud.

"Congratulations, old friend," Daemonikai’s deep voice was hoarse with emotion. "I am so happy for you."

"She is saying Aekeira is my…" Vladya’s throat went dry as sand, but he forced his throat to keep going. "The Oracle is saying Aekeira is my… Do you think it is the truth?"

"The Oracle does not lie, V.D.," Daemonikai said softly, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"And you may not have noticed, but I am currently coughing up a rather concerning amount of blood," the Old Lady rasped, struggling through another violent fit.

Something warm traced down Vladya’s cheek.

He wiped at it absently, then stared at his damp fingers. A tear.

I have a Soulbond.

Then, Daemonikai was grasping his face between firm hands, forcing Vladya to meet his gaze. "Vladya, this is truly great news—look at me." His voice was steady, urgent. "I know it is overwhelming, but you must listen to her right now. This is not the time for shock, not the time to fall into a daze. She said they are in heat. "

Vladya nodded, numb.

"Do you understand what that means?" Daemonikai pressed. "They are suffering without us. We are high in the mountains, thousands of miles away, and we need to be thinking about how to get to them. Our women are in heat, and we are not there to ease their pain, Vladya Theriozydovkar Skyvakto."

And it finally struck with the force of an earthquake.

Ice flooded Vladya’s veins. "Th-They need us. What in the ruins are we doing here…!?" He was already shifting, his muscles rippling.

"Wait."

The Oracle’s command stopped him mid-transformation.

Half-shifted, he looked at her through gleaming yellow eyes.

She looked deathly pale, her already white skin taking on a near-translucent hue. Her frail hands trembled as they gripped her staff.

"You two… be careful," she said in a weak tone. "I cannot see what lies ahead—not clearly. But I pray you make it in time. If not…" She shook her head. "Even if instinct takes hold, even if the rut consumes you—keep your wits about you. This cycle… they need you more than ever."

Vladya and Daemonikai exchanged a grim look before nodding.

"May the gods be with you."

Another nod. Then both shifted fully and took off, their beast forms vanishing from sight.

***

Night had fallen, darkness settling over the Citadel.

Lord Ottai had moved Aekeira from her chambers to Vladya’s quarters to better protect her.

Her scent had grown stronger. Far too strong .

Every Urekai male who caught a whiff of it wanted her.

Emeriel paced by the bedside, her eyes never leaving her sister. Aekeira had fallen into a fitful sleep hours ago, but she tossed and turned restlessly, crying out and gripping her stomach.

Madam Livia, Amie, and Lord Ottai remained close, each doing their part to maintain order.

Outside the door, Lord Ottai stationed soldiers at every key position to keep intruders away.

"You need to sit and rest, Emeriel," Madam Livia urged for the umpteenth time.

Emeriel, too exhausted to argue, merely ignored her. She scratched at her raw arms, worried to death.

Will Lord Vladya return in time?

She had already seen the signs. The moment Aekeira woke this time, the waves would come.

And if he was not here when they did…

Shaking away the thought, Emeriel moved to the tub of water, splashing her face. The relief was fleeting. Every inch of her burned. Had been burning for some time now.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Madam Livia cupped the cool water, pouring it over Emeriel’s face, again and again.

It was a bit more calming. She closed her eyes, the water running down her cheeks.

"That is enough, thank you. But I need to—" Emeriel clutched her burning stomach, wincing. "I need to make sure Aekeira is getting enough air and—"

"Stop for a moment, will you?" Madam Livia took her hand, guiding her to a nearby chair, pressing her down into it, and handing her a cup of water. "Drink."

Emeriel hesitated but obeyed, the cool liquid not quenching the fires raging inside her.

"There. That is better." Taking the cup from her, Madam Livia studied her closely. "How do you feel?"

Emeriel’s hands balled into fists in her lap. Finally, she managed to breathe out through a ball of fear. "I know I am going into heat, Madam Livia."

Staring off into space, she did not bother to hide the terror on her face.

"I mean how could I not know? Just look at me." She lifted her arms for the head maid to see her raw and red skin, streaked with thin lines of blood.

Madam Livia winced.

"I thought… maybe if I ignored it, it would go away, I don’t know what I thought." Emeriel let out a mirthless laugh, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "But my entire body is on fire."

A sudden, piercing scream shattered the room.

Aekeira bolted upright, her mouth open in a wail so raw, so agonizing, it made Emeriel’s stomach knot painfully.

"Keira!" Shooting to her feet, Emeriel rushed to her side. Aekeira doubled over, gripping her stomach, screaming again. Louder, more desperate.

"I need my male! I need my—" She rolled to the edge of the bed, away from Emeriel’s outstretched hand, screaming. "Vladya! Where are you!?"

Emeriel’s heart shattered .

"Wait, Aekeira...!" She was reaching for Aekeira again, swiping angrily at the hot tears streaking her cheeks.

But Aekeira recoiled violently. "Do not touch me! Do not—" a strangled cry tore from her lips as shaky hands reached for her own breasts. Pinching her hard nipples. Body arching.

"Em, it hurts really, really bad." She sobbed openly. " It h-hurts so much I don't think I can bear this…!"

Emeriel grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. "Of course you can! You are strong! You can overcome—”

The words died in Emeriel’s throat as fire rose deep in her core, like scorching lava, burning and burning .

Snatching her hands away, Emeriel threw her head back as a loud wail of agony ripped from her throat.

"Em, are you all right!?" Aekeira’s voice was faint, distant, as though coming from another world.

"Hers is here too!" Madam Livia’s muffled voice followed. "Amie, come, help me move her!"

All Emeriel could hear clearly was the crackling of flames . Deep inside her belly, everything burned.

Her organs were flaming. Her womb scorching. Her womanhood seared with unbearable need .

Emeriel’s nipples throbbed, painfully sensitive. Even the brush of fabric there sent sharp jolts of pain through her.

Tearing at her clothes, Emeriel was beyond desperate. Mindless. Heedless.

The air was too thick.

Too hot.

Suffocating her.

“Someone make it stop!" she let out another piercing scream. "MAKE IT S-S-STOP!”

Two voices rose in the air in unison.

Twin wails of absolute suffering from the very depths of their souls.

Echoing off the walls, piercing the hearts of many who heard it.

"MAKE IT STOP!!!"