Page 23 of THE SOULBOND AND HER BELOVED (Beasts Of Wrath And Madness #4)

Chapter twenty-three

THE VAMPIRE OF GREYROCK

The Oracle invaded Zaiper’s chamber. Standing before him like an ancient, avenging angel, fury burning in her ancient eyes.

"This must be a dream," Zaiper was trying not to show his fear. "You should not be here."

Those scary eyes bored into him. "Why have you not confessed to your heinous crimes?"

"Surely, you didn't really believe I would do so?" His laugh was humorless as he sat up abruptly. "Daemonikai would tear my soul right out of my damn body!"

"It would be less than you deserve, you despicable creature!” she hissed. “You are a disgrace to the Dragaxlov name! Your great-grandfather would writhe in his grave!"

Zaiper glared at her, feeling like a chastised child. He hated it.

"However, if you confess to your crimes, if you come clean on your own, I may intervene to ensure your survival," she said in a steadier voice. "You will pay for your sins for centuries to come, but you will retain your life. All you have to do is stand before the nation you betrayed and bring your crimes to the light."

"I decline your offer.”

"You cowardly fool."

"I know your motives. You don't want to die, do you? That's why you are pushing me to come clean on my own." He laughed maniacally. "Nice try."

"I do not engage in frivolous discourse with frightened children. The minor ritual I performed to be here in spirit is a final courtesy to your lineage. Go to court and confess."

"You cannot force me to do this!" Zaiper roared, shooting out of his bed. Now just furious. "All I ever wanted was to rule! To provide the people with the life they deserve, to conquer nations and kingdoms, to have the entire world groveling at our feet! What is wrong with that?"

The Oracle did not move nor speak.

"We are Urekai!" His chest heaved, eyes wild. “The rest of the world should tremble before us! We should unleash our beasts upon the world, dominating and destroying all who stand in our path! This is our nature, our birthright!"

He fisted his hands tightly, spitting the name like the curse it was. "But Daemonikai… he restrains us . Made us appear weak. Tamed us." His rage grew, as he advanced a step. “Just as it is for every Urekai who has gone feral, I thought his madness would be his end, so I slaughtered his family. Oh, I killed them in the most brutal ways possible, and let me tell you, old woman… I. Enjoyed. Every. Minute. Of. It."

Zaiper moved to shove her… only for his hands to ghost through her form like mist dispersing in the wind.

“Argh! Fucking old lady!” He lost his footing, struggling to steady himself.

She merely watched him with a blank face.

"Do you know what I enjoyed most?" He ran his tongue over his lips. "Watching the humans bind Kristoff to a tree as I stood before him, looking my dear brother in the eyes as I told him— The Northern Throne will never be yours, just before I beheaded him."

Pure fury contorted the Oracle's features.

Now that he had begun talking, he simply could not stop. It felt so damn good to say it out loud.

"And the look of betrayal on his face?" Zaiper cackled. "The pain in his eyes as he took his last breath? Poetic."

The Oracle’s lips thinned. "You accursed monster."

"Which reminds me... where is his son?"

There was no reaction. Not that Zaiper expected one.

"You see, it never really bothered me because the boy has remained hidden for over two millennia. I'm certain he's out there somewhere, living his own pathetic little life. He would never dare set foot in this fortress and declare himself Kristoff Dragaxlov’s heir,” he stated, grinning widely. “But still, I would very much like to know his whereabouts."

"And you genuinely think I will tell you that?"

"No, no, of course not. I know you will not, which is a pity." Zapier clicked his tongue. "I would’ve enjoyed gutting him as well. Make sure no one else comes for my throne while I continue to plot my conquest of all the clans!"

"Look what hunger for power has done to you," she said in heavy disgust, shaking her head. "Greed. Unmitigated wickedness."

Zapier backed up to the edge of his bed, and sat. "You know the best part of it all? They have no idea." His body shook with laughter. "I stay in the shadows, weaving my webs, playing my games, orchestrating countless conspiracies, achieving victory upon victory, and yet… They. Have. No. Idea.”

He was laughing so hard, tears slipped from his eyes. "I'm very clever, you see. I leave no trace, no trail, nothing. I make it look so natural. Take a look at Daemonikai—he mounted his female into a half-dead state, but because he's a feral survivor, he has no idea what to think. Is it a resurface? Dark magic? Or was it all that crazy maze-trap mind of his? He treads uncharted territory." Zapier wiped the tears from his face. "I thought of all those things quite carefully, deciding... it was worth using up my last favors. The perfect plan. How was the big bad beast supposed to know it was all me?" He shook his head, marveling at his own cleverness. "Even you, Old Lady, have to admit I'm a genius."

The Oracle could not look any more repulsed.

"And now, he plans to start another family." Zaiper barked another laugh. "I have no plan in mind yet, but I can tell you the end. I'll lie in wait for the pretty princess’s belly to swell fully. Perhaps seven months? Eight? Then I'll capture her, plunge my hand into her pathetic human body, and rip the little one out of her."

Something dark and deadly crossed the Oracle’s face.

"I may take her sister too, I don’t know. It will be entertaining, do you not agree?" He tapped his finger against his knee, thinking. "Just like Evie watched me slay her son before I ended her too, I will extend the same fate to the human princesses."

The old lady finally moved, traversing the distance to stop so close he could feel the power radiating off her.

"I have existed since nearly the dawn of time, have witnessed countless atrocities and unspeakable horrors—I have seen kingdoms rise and fall. Many have required my intervention, but I did not meddle."

"Exactly how we like you,” Zaiper snapped. Do not interfere with the natural order, return to sleep in the coffin-bed and leave the world to ordinary mortals. Why do you persist?"

"Let us just say… this time, I choose to," she said. "This conversation has sealed your fate, Zaiper Thoryk Dragaxlov. The next time we meet will be in the public eye, with me standing in my physical form while the world listens to tales of your crimes. And that day is near, I have nearly completed my tasks here."

She paused, slanting her head to look at him. "Oh, and I see you are searching for ways to kill me. One dark mage and three shamans? Daring, but pitiful, really. Incompetent rat."

Zaiper bristled, turning away, ears flushing pink. Why did she always have to know?

"I could wish you better luck in your pathetic quest," she went on neutrally. "But it would be wasted. You will not silence me, not your way, not any way. Our ends are drawing near, you and I. Mark my words and carve them with blood; the next time we meet will be your downfall. Prepare for it." She vanished.

Zaiper sat there, staring at the empty space where she had stood.

A laugh bubbled up in his throat, and he laughed until it hurt to breathe, and still he laughed.

But when he stopped and the silence came, her words repeated in his ears.

His reality was like a cold bucket of water dumped on him.

That bitch.

***

A good mood feeds the soul, and Daemonikai had been in the best of them for days.

Until the message from Mysticaria arrived.

Seated at his desk, he held the parchment.

I received your message, King Daemonikai, and have since initiated my own investigation. However, I have found nothing to suggest the condition of your mind may indeed involve mage magic.

That said, I performed a spell using the hair you sent, and something did appear… strange. There may indeed be magic involved.

I do not say this with certainty, but the possibility must not be ignored.

If mage magic was indeed used, then it was likely performed by a dark mage. Our kind hunts them like sport animals, for dark magic is forbidden. If such a mage exists, he must be in hiding within Urai—probably close to the heart of the city.

I offer my sincere apologies that there is little more I can do. However, should you find those responsible, I hope you see to it they are nailed to the cross.

From the hands of Malghoxivus, King of Mysticaria.

Folding the letter, Daemonikai stared blankly ahead. So, it was possible. Magic. Someone had dared to meddle with his mind.

He had conquered kingdoms, brought empires to the ground, shaped the rise and fall of dynasties. Suffice it to say, he had made his fair share of enemies. And some enemies never go away.

But what if it was not some vengeful king of a forgotten empire? What if the perpetrator was close?

Zaiper.

His gut told him so, his instincts screamed it.

Like all Dragaxlov, Zaiper hungered for the First Throne. That much was common knowledge. There was nothing new in that—especially not with how pathetic the male appeared at court.

But maybe they'd all dismissed him too easily.

Maybe Zaiper was desperate enough to stoop to treachery to get Daemonikai out of the way. Like tampering with his mind.

The thought made his blood sizzle .

Yet, on what grounds could he act? There was no proof. Only suspicion and assumption that would not fly in court should he pursue this case.

"Wegai."

The door opened immediately as he entered. "Your Grace."

"Assemble the soldiers and deploy them throughout the city. I want every mage in Urai rounded up. Bondmates and non-bondmates, traders, privileged visitors, formally welcomed and unwelcome, gather every single one of them to the Citadel. Now."

Wegai gave a curt nod and departed to execute the command.

"And Wegai?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Launch a discreet investigation into Grand Lord Zaiper. I require answers, not speculation. Seek out those with whom he has interacted in recent months. Find the ones who watch from the shadows, those who know but dare not tell."

Wegai gave a curt nod. "As you command, Your Grace."

“Be cautious. Zaiper knows how to cover his tracks. If he catches wind of this, he may bury the truth even deeper, or worse, ensure those who seek it do not return. Do not allow word of this inquiry to reach the wrong ears," he instructed. "Select only the most loyal males for this task. Hunters, informants, even the desperate—anyone who can dig through the past month and uncover anything that might qualify as valuable information. I wish to know his whereabouts, his activities. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." Wegai turned and left.

Daemonikai couldn't get any work done after that.

Queries went unanswered. Reports were only partially read.

Dark magic? Mind tempering?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. His beast was raging, banging inside him. His dark thoughts everywhere.

Shift. Shift and hunt. Tear the world apart until we find the one who dared.

Set the kingdom to flame. Burn it. Burn them all.

Drag every mage into the square. Execute them. Slowly. Watch them scream. Watch them beg!

There are good mages, he tried to reason. Some are bondmates, some are just farmers.

Blast them all, this one came from his beast. Treacherous! Kill. Kill. Kill!

Slamming the ledgers closed, he sprang to his feet.

***

The Citadel buzzed with evening energy, as soldiers shifted rotations and servants scurried to their tasks while he searched for the one being in the entire universe who could hush the voices.

He found her in her bathing chamber, humans tending to her. Emeriel had always been more at ease with humans than with the Urekai maids and servants, and for her sake, Daemonikai had reluctantly allowed them into his residence. His disdain for humans had not lessened—not by a long shot. But for her… he supposed he could tolerate them.

His radiant star lay half-submerged in the bathing pool, eyes closed, head slanted back against the rim. She looked completely exhausted.

It was no wonder. She had eaten little in recent days, unable to keep food down. Not to mention the nausea and frequent dizzy spells.

Daemonikai waited by the door until the bath ended.

When she stood, her body gleamed in the lantern light. Droplets of water slid down her smooth skin, and his mouth went fucking dry.

They were drying her when those eyes, blue as the summer sky, found him.

She smiled. “My king.”

“Beloved.”

She looked down at her nakedness and went the slightest ruby.

The way she fretted over her modesty was endlessly amusing. He had seen and feasted on every inch of that addictive body, yet she blushed as if they'd only just met.

Already, his lousy mood was lifting.

Dismissing the slaves with a slight motion of his hand, they bowed and departed, leaving them alone.

“How do you fare this evening?” he asked as he crossed to her.

“Better than I did this morning.” Her voice was better now, too.

He stared shamelessly at her body. Curves that held him captive. Plump, enticing breasts that made his mouth water. The flat plane of her belly where their child grew.

She did not hide from his wandering eyes, but the red dots on her cheeks were spreading.

“You are breathtaking.” Daemonikai hoped to hell he didn’t sound as hungry as he felt but wasn't sure he succeeded.

She gifted him that lovely smile again. “Thank you.”

Lately, the way he desired her body rivaled his crumbling mind, each battling to see which would drive him over the edge first. It was like staring at his favorite meal, yet unable to snack at it.

These days, his life hovered around trying to hold back and fighting himself not to pounce on her at every turn...but fuck, she called to me . Her smile, her scent, everything she did was a beckon that was torturous to ignore.

That, coupled with the healers' instructions, perhaps it was time to try again.

So, he pulled her to his arms. "I'm going to kiss you," he said against her lips.

"Please," a breathless sound of surrender.

He slotted his lips to hers.

Emeriel melted into him, nakedness molding to his body. His dick, half-hard, brushed her belly as he kissed her, slowly backing her to the wall behind her.

He caged her in, deepening the kiss she returned so passionately, pouring every longing thought into it.

His hand slid between her thighs, coaxing them to part for him. Stroking softly, spreading the growing slick in circles.

Small sounds emitted from her, sending fire through his blood. She held onto him as he played her body like a masterful musician with his favored instrument. The more he teased and stroked, the wetter she became until she coated his hand.

He slipped a finger in.

"Gods..." she moaned, arching up, going on tiptoe. Her eyes squeezed tight, breathing unsteady.

“You have no idea how fucking good you feel, do you?" he murmured against her throat, biting without breaking the skin. "You’re taking that finger really well. Want me to fuck you with it?"

"Daemon," she whimpered, her head lolling against the wall.

"If I can make you come with just my mouth on your breasts, I bet I could give you multiple with just this one finger." He thrust it in deeper. Exploring.

She moaned, parting her legs further for him.

He felt grateful just being inside her like this. After the way her body had rejected him outright during heat—and now, with her recent struggles with their intimacy—being inside her in any way at all was a damn luxury. One he would never take lightly.

“Daemon, I feel... I feel...” She buried her face to his chest. “... really hungry. I want you to mount me. It’s all I th-think about.”

“Yeah?”

"Oh yes," she gasped. "I hope we can do it today.”

I hope so, too, dearling. I hope so.

Caressing her gland, he kept his touches gentle. Tending to her pleasure instead of his usual aggressive, you-must-take-it bombardment.

He cajoled her chin up with his knuckles. “Do you like when I touch you inside?”

“Y-yes,” she panted.

“Then I suppose I shall have to do more of it," he drawled. "Look at me."

He kept coaxing and caressing, tracing and rubbing her sensitive rippling walls. He worked her so damn good until she was dripping like a faucet, making a mess on the floor.

All the while, his eyes devoured her, eating up her every reaction. The way her breathing shuddered to a stop before picking up again. The way she huffed out air through her open mouth. Her eyes held his, just as he commanded—yet they were glazed over.

When she was about to come, he withdrew his fingers, and lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he balanced her against him with one arm, his other hand freeing his erection. Bracing her against the wall, he guided himself to her entrance, sliding into her in a single, smooth thrust.

She went completely still.

As still as the dead.

Every tremor, every soft moan and breathless quiver... was gone in an instant. Her eyes stayed somewhere over his shoulder, wide and empty, as she retreated into her head.

Daemonikai deflated. “Emeriel...?”

“I can't. I can't...”

There was no trace of the hunger that colored her voice moments before, only pure fear.

His desire vanished like a candle snuffed in the wind.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely.

Protect.

He withdrew from her slowly, feeling her tightness resist him until his length slipped free, then he held her close to shield her from the threat.

But it was him. He was the danger.

The rigidity left her body at once. Then came the shaking.

She buried her face against his neck, tremors overtaking her, breathing in shudders. Tears soaked his skin.

Daemonikai had no idea which devastated him more. The vivid memory of every cut, every bruise, every swollen spot on her flesh that morning... or this . Watching her relive that night each time he put his hands on her.

Ukrae, grant me this one favor. Just this once.

Help me find the wretch who dared tamper with my mind. One single piece of proof—that is all I ask. Just point me in the right fucking direction.

I, Daemonikai Vipertheriov Naelzharoth, will never go easy on them. They will live and breathe torture . When I am done, they will beg for death but I will not grant it.

Chest filled with boiling rage, Daemonikai pressed his face into the crook of Emeriel’s neck, rocking her—attempting to calm himself as well. Breathing in her scent like a penitent.

I will find them—even if I have to burn this entire city to the ground to do it. I fucking will.

And when I do, I will be their tormentor. Their judge, jury, and executioner.