Page 33 of THE SOULBOND AND HER BELOVED (Beasts Of Wrath And Madness #4)

Chapter thirty-three

ON THE VERGE, AND HOPELESSLY HERS.

“I told you to inform me the moment she awoke.” Grand King Daemonikai’s growl reverberated down the corridor as he loomed over the two trembling servants waiting for him outside the meeting hall. “What do you mean she is no longer in the fortress?”

The male servant shuffled uneasily, his hands wringing together. “I... I truly do not understand, Your Majesty. I inquired after her myself, and her handmaidens said she left the Citadel.”

“Bring them to me, now.”

They bolted as though demons hunted their heels.

Daemonikai turned and stalked into the Grand High Court.

The meeting dragged long, his mind elsewhere the entire time. Why would Sinai leave her medications unfinished to embark on a sudden trip no one knew about?

She didn’t inform anyone when she’d be back and didn’t think to ask for his permission as his bloodhost to arrange alternatives until her return. What was so important she would leave like this while still unwell and not fully healed?

Something about this doesn’t feel right.

When he finally emerged, evening shadows stretched long across the floors. Two females now stood waiting by the door, heads bowed low.

“Your Grace,” one of them squeaked. “You su-summoned us.”

“What is your name?” he demanded.

“N-Nora, Your Grace.”

“Nora.” He let the name sit heavily in the air. “Where is your mistress?”

“She left ye-yesterday, Your Grace, packing su-supplies.” Nora’s hands twisted in her apron. “She said she was go-going on a simple trip and would return soon. She... she did not take m-much gold.”

Her nervousness reeked. Stank of deceit.

Zaiper was the mastermind behind everything. Joined forces with…

The Oracle’s final words had troubled him. Who were Zaiper’s accomplices?

The question never left his mind. They had slept beside him, eaten at his table. He had recounted everyone he knew who had been close to Zaiper—high lords, mistresses, friends, even commoners. No one was beyond suspicion now.

Could it be… Sinai?

Could it be his own bloodhost?

“Wegai, seize them,” he ordered.

Nora’s rounded eyes filled with panic. She and the second handmaiden didn’t have time to scream before the soldiers surged forward, clamping iron grips on their arms.

Daemonikai turned on his heel, their cries following him down the corridor.

“Please, Your Majesty! Have mercy!”

“Your Grace—please!”

He neither spared them a glance nor slowed his steps.

***

As the guards dragged the sobbing females inside. Daemonikai followed them, his hands clasped behind his back. The guards shoved them through the iron doors, and he entered after them.

He looked to one soldier. “Fetch the spiked whips.” Then another. “Summon the slavemasters, I want scalding oil and ground chili peppers. Now.”

The two handmaidens were pale as bone now. One had already wet herself, the stink of urine reaching his nose. Both fell to their knees, tears streaming down the faces they pressed to the ground.

“Please, have mercy! We beg you, Your Grace!” Nora wept.

“Your Highness, forgive our transgressions!”

“Silence.” Daemonikai crouched before Nora, taking her chin in his hand, lifting her teary, blotched face until their eyes met. Her terror was absolute.

“I will ask you a question,” his voice was soft. “You will answer. You will speak truthfully. You will leave out nothing. If I am displeased by your answer, I will walk away. These males will carry out my command in my absence, and I will return in the morning to ask you again.” He blinked slowly. “And if I am still displeased then, you will be beheaded. Am I clear?”

The female trembled so violently he thought she might faint.

“Y-y-yes! Yes, Your Grace!” she sobbed.

“Tell me everything regarding your mistress's ties to Grand Lord Zaiper. Any conversations you overheard, any suspicions you might hold.” His gaze bored into hers like a spike through wood. “Tell me if there was anything unusual about her departure—the way she behaved, how she packed, anything that seemed amiss."

The words tumbled out of Nora so fast, not even diarrhea could catch up. Stumbling. Sobbing. Tripping over her words, but she gave him everything.

Some details were redundant. Some hysterical and unnecessary. But she was thorough. More thorough than he could have hoped.

Daemonikai listened without interrupting. At some point, he waved for a chair and seated himself, crossing his arms as the tale unwound before him.

Evening faded into midnight.

By the time the handmaiden finished speaking, Daemonikai’s inside was a battlefield. He knew, now, that Sinai had spent far more time with Zaiper than she had ever admitted.

She had shared his bed. Often. There had even been a violent confrontation between her and Zaiper’s favored concubine over their sordid entanglement.

How when his bloodhost and the former Second Ruler spoke, there was always something concealed in their words. An undercurrent of secrets and glances exchanged that had meant far more than anyone realized.

And on the night Sinai had attacked Emeriel with poison-tipped arrows, she had spent the entire day in Zaiper’s chambers.

She had packed heavily for her supposed trip . Had taken more gold than any noblewoman would ever need for a brief holiday.

Sinai had not gone for rest or recovery; her journey was not a pleasure trip or excursion. She had gone to join her partner in crime.

Laelsainai Gurtazivrk was Zaiper’s accomplice.

“Wegai!” Daemonikai roared, thunderous.

Wegai appeared instantly. “Your Grace!”

“Send word to all Storm Riders, Hunting Beasts, and Tracking Sentinels,” Daemonikai commanded, rising to his feet. “As of this moment, Laelsainai Gurtazivrk is declared a wanted fugitive of Urai. Search every abode, every cave, every border. Leave no stone unturned and no shadow untouched. Hunt her. Seize her. Drag her before me.”

Wegai saluted. “As His Majesty commands!”

***

Two Months Later

They returned to the kingdom at the first light of dawn.

Grand King Daemonikai dismounted in a single, fluid movement. Dust clung to his dark cloak, his armor streaked with the grime of long pursuit.

“See that the horses are tended,” he ordered curtly to one of the sentinels. “Their tack inspected, their hooves checked and cleaned before they are stabled. Ensure they are well-fed and watered before nightfall.”

The sentinel gave a sharp nod, and without delay, the mounts were collected and led away.

Daemonikai looked at the gathered sentinels who had formed up in disciplined silence. “We ride again at nightfall. Make ready. Sharpen your blades and string your bows.” His voice cold as ice, his tone leaving no room for question. “We do not rest until his troops are razed to the ground. We hunt until he is found.”

A chorus of firm salutes answered him before the sentinels dispersed, falling into formation as they cleared a path for their grand king. Daemonikai strode through their ranks as he made for the Citadel entrance.

“I’ll send for Faiwick. Those bruises need tending, Daemon,” Vladya said, falling into step beside him.

“There’s no need. Let him tend to you. I’ll manage.”

His arm throbbed beneath his armor, blood seeped from wounds not yet treated, but such things were expected. Especially after riding through a forest overrun with ferals to cut hours off their pursuit.

“I won’t be needing a healer because my bloodhost is ready and available. One feeding from her and these wounds are on the route to healing.” Vladya said. “You, on the other hand, your bloodhost is a fugitive on the run and you’ve got a restless beast clawing at your insides because you haven’t fed or fucked in months.”

Daemonikai scowled. “Enough.”

“No, not enough. Oh, fuck this,” Vladya snarled, catching Daemonikai by the arm and dragging him into a shadowed alcove beyond the watchful eyes of the soldiers. “It’s been two months, Daemon. Two months since your last proper bloodfeeding. Feeders don’t count. Sipping from Emeriel to give her pleasure doesn’t fucking count—not when you won’t truly drink from her because you’re worried about her condition.”

Daemonikai’s silence only made Vladya angrier.

“I’m worried about you, Daemonikai. You need to fuck. You need to feed. Properly. ” Vladya punctuated the words. “It’s been ages, your body is demanding it.”

Irritation flashed across Daemonikai’s face. “Watch your tongue.”

“I won’t,” Vladya shot back, stepping in close. “Because I’m not speaking to you as your Second. I’m speaking to you as a male who’s watching his best friend lose control. A male who refuses to watch you destroy yourself. You can glare at me all you want, but I see it already—you’re slipping. I saw the way you fought the ferals tonight. It wasn’t skill or strategy, it was savage. You enjoyed it.” His eyes searched Daemonikai’s, unflinching. “I saw the smirk on your face as you bathed in their blood. You tore them apart even when they were already dead—limb from limb. Like a mindless, bloodthirsty feral .”

Daemonikai’s nostrils flared.

“You’re on the verge, and I will not stand by and watch you go feral again!” Vladya shouted, red-faced. “You want revenge; I do too. That’s why I’ve ridden with you, every night, in pursuit. I want them dead just as much as you do. Especially that lying, two-faced bitch who was your bloodhost. It’s past time another blood bond formed for you. But this… this endless hunt? It’s wearing you down. We’re always one step behind. By the time we reach each hideout, they’re gone, and I understand your frustration. Truly, I do. But we will catch them.” Vladya gripped Daemon’s shoulders hard, giving him a sharp shake. “ We. Will. Make. Them. Pay. But until we do, we survive. We thrive. ”

“Listen, Vladya—”

“You will take care of that raging beast inside you,” Vladya stated. “I no longer care what your problems with Emeriel are, nor do I care about your reservations over fucking another female. You’re standing on the edge of full-blown madness, and I will NOT stand by and watch it happen. If I must drug you, tie you down, and throw every willing female in the kingdom over you to satisfy sexlust , I fucking will.” He leaned in closer, snarling to Daemon’s face. “And I will have a line of fifty feeders waiting after them.”

Daemonikai’s jaw dropped open, stunned into silence.

“So you had better get your act together.” Vladya’s chest heaved as he glared at him, breathing hard. “Get a healer for your wounds, get more feeders to satisfy the taste, and have sex , Daemonikai. These are your priorities now, not another bloody ride at dawn.” Finally, he stepped back. “Calm your damn beast, or I will take matters into my own hands.”

With that, Vladya turned on his heel and stalked off.

Daemonikai stood there, alone in the silence.

Tongue-tied. Motionless.

For once in a very long time, he had no idea what to say.

***

Hours later, Daemonikai sat in the reclining chair of his bedchamber, freshly washed, freshly bandaged, and clothed in clean linens. Faiwick had done a thorough job—curbed the bleeding, cleaned the wounds meticulously, and stitched them with care. The pain remained, but the worst had passed.

Daemonikai’s eyes were closed, though sleep remained out of reach. The voices had quieted for now, but his head throbbed like the devils. Still, the silence and solitude served him well. He would take whatever peace he could find.

He was still furious with Vladya. That had not changed, and he’d already made a mental note to plant a well-deserved punch in the male’s gut the next time they crossed paths.

But truth was truth.

Vladya was right.

The thirst to kill was becoming impossible to ignore. And the more he fed that hunger, the closer he got to Madness Land. He knew the path, had walked it before. After Alvin died in his arms, after he found Myka and Evie’s lifeless bodies, he’d begun to spiral—going from zero to ninety. But what had pushed him over the edge then were the killings that followed.

He’d tasted the blood of his enemies, and he had given in. Fully.

Taken his beast form, he’d massacred every human soldier in sight. The sound of their bones breaking, their screams ringing in his ears... those had been the last coherent things he remembered before he tumbled over.

Now, he was teetering there again. And the hunger for slaughter was back.

Sheer will was no longer enough to hold him steady. He needed to satisfy his basic instincts soon.

A knock came and his door opened without waiting for a reply.

Daemonikai opened his eyes to find Emeriel standing there.

“I heard you returned,” she said quietly. But her gaze flicked immediately to the bandages, worry following. “My King…”

“I’m fine.” He extended a hand toward her. “Come here.”

Her steps were slow as she crossed the room toward him. He watched her in silence, his possessive instincts stirring. Seven months into her carrying, her belly was high and full—rounder even than her sister’s, which made her self-conscious. But Daemonikai thought she looked sexy. Good enough to eat.

As soon as she was within reach, he caught her hand, tugging her gently into his lap. He settled her against him with careful hands, one large palm sliding protectively to her belly.

“What happened?” she asked. “Did you find him? Did you fight and he escaped? Is that why you’re bruised—and why he isn’t here?”

Daemonikai shook his head once. “We crossed feral territories. Fought packs of them.” He caressed her belly. “But I’m fine now.”

Her hand lifted, resting on his chest. “And your mind?” she asked. “The voices?”

“Quiet.”

He did not tell her how loud they had become of late. How difficult it had been to hold the bloodlust at bay. She didn’t need that weight.

“What about the dark mage who wove the spell?” she asked next.

“It’s as if he vanished from the face of the world.” Daemonikai forced calm into his tone. “The only thing we know is that he’s still within Urai. The borders are locked down—none can cross without my knowledge. But he remains hidden.”

Emeriel’s lips thinned.

“The Mage King suggested we use magic to find him,” Daemonikai went on. “He can weave the spell… but it would require me to be paralyzed for a full month.”

Emeriel was already shaking her head before he finished.

“I said no,” he told her. “I will not be crippled and bedridden while enemies roam free in my kingdom.”

Daemonikai reached out, smoothing a stray strand of her hair back to join the others. “So I will stick with the plan I have.” His fingers lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Find Zaiper first. Once I have him, finding the sorcerer will be simple.”

“I agree.” Emeriel’s long lashes lowered, shadowing her gaze. “So, I’ve been thinking…” when she lifted her eyes again, there was resolve in them. “I wish to feed you properly.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

“Hear me out,” she said. “I hate knowing you’re starving. That you aren’t feeding as you should. I am your Soulbond, Daemon. Three years ago, my blood saved your life. Dark magic or not, that truth remains. My blood still means something—because I am yours. With or without our bond, that doesn’t change.”

In the past, he would have refused outright, without question. He hadn’t forgotten the healers’ warnings—that taking blood from her at an advanced stage could cause her discomfort. But what he’d neglected to remember was the rest of their counsel. If she found it comfortable, if she chose it, then it was not only safe but vital.

“I’ve been taking plenty of vegetables,” she said, smiling faintly. “And the safe herbal concoctions the healers prepared for blood fortification. I can do this.”

And gods help him, he wanted to.

He craved her blood with a hunger that was an ache in his fangs. He missed it. Missed her —the rich, potent taste of her sliding down his throat instead of the teasing sip or two he had allowed himself these past months.

His throat worked around a hoarse word. “Alright.”

She blinked, clearly surprised. But she recovered quickly. “Good. How do you want me?”

On your back, on your knees, bent over the edge of the bed, standing against the wall—gods, Emeriel. I’ll take you any way you’ll let me.

Fuck, his dick was doing the thinking instead of his fangs.

These days, he tried not to stare when she walked by—tried not to watch the sway of her hips, the bounce of her breasts in her loose dresses, her wobbling ass. He averted his eyes when she beamed. Looked away when she flushed or was being shy. Tried not to look too hard when she was wearing nightclothes, or anything at all, really.

Suffice it to say, everything about her turned him on. Daemonikai was in a perpetual state of arousal around her. It was more torture than being hung upside down and branded with scalding iron.

He wanted to throw her legs over his shoulders and pound her into the mattress.

You can’t do that to her in this condition, his rational mind reminded him.

Damn. Fuck. That was right. But shit, he still wanted to have her.

Daemonikai had once scoffed at drunken lords who jested about needing intercourse so badly they begged to just put the tip . He’d thought them pathetic fools.

But now, he totally understood.

Hell, at this rate, even if he could only get just the head of his cock inside her, he would thank the gods and die a happy male.

Because he could make it work. The way he wanted her, he could find release from just having even the smallest part of him nestled inside her.

Yeah, he was pathetic, horny, and obsessed.

Not to mention completely and hopelessly hers too.