Page 35 of THE SOULBOND AND HER BELOVED (Beasts Of Wrath And Madness #4)

Chapter thirty-five

THE COURTESAN OF MANY SKILLS

Emeriel’s heart did a somersault.

Bring her to him? Did he need more blood?

Her cheeks lit up at the thought.

She didn’t have long to ponder. The servants crowded around her as they began to undress her and prepare her. She was guided into the scented bathwater, where they bathed her with efficiency. Emerging from the water, she was dried with soft cloths and dressed in a gown of the finest blue silk. It was light as air against her skin, new and smelling faintly of something sweet and clean.

“The Grand King bought this today for you, my lady,” one of the women whispered confidentially with a secret smile.

Emeriel glowed, her cheeks hotter. She lowered herself into the chair they indicated, and they worked, weaving her hair, fixing the pins among the dark strands.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they finally led her out of the building and into the courtyard.

“It’s a surprise, Princess,” one of the girls said, her tone excited.

They remained within the fortress walls, venturing to a secluded part of the vast Citadel—one Emeriel had never been to before. This wing was reserved for the royal rulers alone. The stonework here was older, the architecture grand and somber, as though it belonged to an even older age.

They passed beneath a covered walkway framed in dark wood, then entered what seemed like an annex. Soldiers stood discreetly on the grounds, and several Urekai workers moved about quietly with their tasks. She was led through a long, quiet hall until they reached the door at its end.

Wegai bowed low and opened the door without a word.

She was nervous. But taking a deep breath, she walked into the dark chamber.

The shadows wrapped around her like a warm cloak, but she could feel him there. Then a flicker of flame came from candles glowing to life, chasing the darkness away. And there he was.

Daemonikai lounged in a reclining chair, dressed in loose evening wear. His tunic unbuttoned, revealing the expanse of his chest and the sharp cut of his collarbone. His dark hair was loose, falling around him like a silken veil.

“Hello, radiant star,” he said softly.

Emeriel glanced around the chamber arranged with a care that tugged at her heart. Candles flickered everywhere, red roses were strewn across the bed in wild, beautiful disarray, filling the air with their perfume. The ambiance was tender, romantic.

Her body lit up from within. “My king,” the words were thick with her feelings.

Daemonikai unfolded from his chair and crossed to her. He circled slowly, deliberately, like a lover, like a predator, before stopping in front of her. His hands found her waist, and he drew her close.

“Tonight, in this chamber, you will feel me again,” he said in a deep voice. His eyes held deep hunger and, at the same time, tenderness. “I will erase that memory from your mind, dearest, and replace it with sweeter ones that will never leave you.”

Emeriel’s breath shuddered, and she nodded eagerly. She wanted this so badly.

But deep inside, something coiled tight with anxiety. What if it didn’t work? What if she failed again?

Daemonikai’s hand tilted her chin. “For this night, I want you to clear your mind and only focus on me.” His thumb caressed her jaw. “And I brought help.”

Help?

Before she could make sense of that, his mouth was on hers. The kiss was slow at first—a reverent taking of her lips. But as his mouth moved over hers, it deepened, becoming thorough. Her eyes slipped shut, arms finding their way around his neck. Their tongues danced, beautiful in their intensity, amazing in their feel. Strokes of pleasure and pent-up desire.

By the time he pulled back, Emeriel was breathless, dizzy with yearning. That was when she felt it—a heat at her back. A presence.

A hand settled on her waist.

Blinking through her daze, Emeriel turned her head. Behind her stood a taller figure, and it took her a moment to focus.

“Mistress Alviara…” she breathed, surprised.

“Hello, human princess.” The courtesan gave her a warm smile. “We meet again.”

Emeriel hoped to the Light-gods she returned the smile, though questions whirled in her mind. Why was she here?

She had met the most sought-after courtesan in Urai only once, two years ago, when a female had entered an unexpected heat, throwing the kingdom into chaos. The Grand King had needed relief, and Emeriel, as a boy, had ended up underneath Alviara as the Grand King had taken them both. That night was branded in her memory.

Was that what tonight was? Would Alviara be here for him… while I watched? Emeriel’s stomach twisted.

“She is not for me, little star.” Daemonikai’s calm voice cut through, lifting her chin again so their gazes met. “She is for you.”

Emeriel stared at him. “Me…?”

“Yes,” he said, voice soothing, reassuring. “For support. For comfort. Do you trust me?”

There was no hesitation. “Yes.”

“Good.” He kissed her again, longer this time, until she was once again breathless.

Then his hands moved to her gown, slipping the silk from her shoulders, baring her unhurried to the candlelight inch by inch. Her hair was unpinned, falling over her shoulders in waves. She wasn’t sure how to feel about being naked, pregnant, before another… someone who wasn’t him . She made a tiny, shy sound, pressing herself into his chest as he finished undressing her.

“You are incredibly beautiful.” Daemonikai held her close, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. “I have seen you bare countless times, yet I cannot resist thinking it, every single time. Always my first thought.” His gaze slid over her with heat. “Isn’t she beautiful, Alviara?”

“She is,” came the reply behind Emeriel. Appreciative, smooth. “Even more so now that she carries your child, Your Grace.”

“Indeed.” Daemonikai lifted her into his arms, but as she reached to wrap her hands around his neck, he transferred her carefully into Alviara’s arms instead. “Here.”

“I’m heavy,” Emeriel protested.

Alviara took her weight with ease, giving a low, sultry laugh. “To a human, maybe.”

She carried Emeriel effortlessly across the room, graceful as a dancer, stopping at the foot of the bed before slowly setting her down. Emeriel’s feet touched the floor, and her eyes immediately sought her beloved.

Daemonikai had retaken his seat, lounging back in the chair once more, watching her. But before she could lose herself in him, Alviara nudged her chin gently.

“None of that,” a quiet command. “Focus on me. Pretend he isn’t here.”

Was that even possible? But she drew a calming breath. “Alright.”

She still didn’t understand entirely what was happening, but her curiosity outweighed her nerves.

“Good girl,” the courtesan praised. “You seem tense. Relax.”

It was the gentlest command, and yet something in Emeriel’s body responded as though it had no choice. The tightness in her shoulders softened. Her breathing slowed.

“Very good,” Alviara continued, smiling. “Now look at me and tell me what you see.”

Emeriel lifted her gaze fully to the female before her. Alviara was a vision in red and black, a short silk garment hugging every curve of her body. Her breasts were showcased, the soft roundness spilling just over the line of her bodice.

“You look very pretty,” Emeriel said, her voice honest.

Alviara’s grin was confident and unashamed. “I know.” She stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. “I’m a whore of many skills, my princess. Trained in every art of pleasure and practices that bring males and females alike to their knees.” Her voice threaded with gentleness. “One of those skills is easing nervous first-timers through their first night with their mates... and helping haunted females find their way back to pleasure, in whatever way they need.” She paused, letting the words settle. “Tonight, we’ll be trying one.”

“Oh,” Emeriel’s breath caught. So that’s why. She looked at her beloved.

He gave a nod of encouragement and approval.

“My reputation precedes me.” Alviara’s smile deepened as she brushed her fingers against Emeriel’s cheek. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.” She leaned in to Emeriel’s ear. “And if you let me touch you, I’ll make sure you feel really , really good.”

Emeriel swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, pulse fluttering wildly. She didn’t move away.

“I can smell your musk,” Alviara whispered. “Absolutely intoxicating.” Her tongue flicked out, tasting the line of Emeriel’s throat, sending a tremor through her body. “Your scent alone is enough to drive anyone mad with desire.”

The female gave compliments freely, and just like her command, they settled within Emeriel. She leaned into Alviara, horny, feeling like she was in a daze. “Thank you.”

Alviara held her waist securely. “Will you let me touch you?” the courtesan asked, her voice a sultry promise. “I can do some very wonderful things with my tongue.”

Emeriel’s lips parted, but she found her answer quickly. “No,” she murmured, even as she rested her forehead against Alviara’s shoulder.

Gentle hands stroked over her back, never demanding.

“Why not?” Alviara asked, without any offense, only curiosity. “You are hungry, and I can ease you.”

Emeriel was quiet for a moment. She did not want to hurt the courtesan’s feelings, but she chose honesty anyway. “You’re not the one I want.”

Alviara hummed, the sound warm and amused. “And who do you want?”

Emeriel’s lips brushed against Alviara’s shoulder as she mumbled, “My Daemon.”

“Mmm,” Alviara said, thoughtful. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Good,” Alviara said simply.

She stepped back, releasing Emeriel gently, going behind her. “Look at him,” Alviara crooned. “Really look at him.”

Emeriel did. Daemonikai was seated, watching her, but the air between them sizzled . The hunger in his eyes had become intense . Possessiveness clear in them. Tight control scribbled in every line of his body.

As seconds passed, the raw worship in his gaze became her undoing. She grew even wetter.

“Do you see the way he looks at you?” Alviara asked, her voice low.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you see how he holds himself back? Those hands of his ache to be on you. That mouth aches to devour you. And still… he waits.”

Emeriel made a soft, needy sound, pressing her thighs together. Why did hearing it from someone else make it so much more intense?

“He starves for you,” Alviara whispered. “Yet he waits. Do you know why? Because he will not take what you are not ready to give.”

She’d seen it in his patience these past months, the way he’d held himself back when she could not give him more. But hearing it from another… seeing it through Alviara’s eyes… it was different.

“Give him the word, and he’ll be with you. Say it with all your heart. Mean it. No reservations. No fear. No hesitation.” Alviara caressed her arm, raising goosebumps. “Not because you feel it’s your duty —no one will force you to lie on this bed and give yourself. You do it because it’s what you want . Not for his sake… but for yours.”

And she was right. Emeriel wasn’t doing this to fulfill his basic needs, or to keep him from losing control. She was doing this because she wanted to. She needed all of him.

So she outstretched her hand. “Please… come to me, Beloved.”

He was in front of her before the last syllable left her lips. Towering, crowding her, surrounding her. She breathed him in, feeling a deep sense of longing… not just in her heart, but in her feminine core. Rising on her toes, she kissed him first. She poured her craving and desperation into it. The kiss was fast and a little clumsy, but so full of need.

And within heartbeats, he was kissing her back. He devoured her, and she drowned in it.

Emeriel would never grow tired of his kisses—never lose her addiction to the feel of his mouth, the taste of him, the way his lips moved against hers as though she was all he had ever hungered for.

Cool silk sheets met her back, he lowered next to her, lying by her side, his kisses trailing over her skin. His mouth moved along her throat, down the delicate line of her neck, and lower still… until his lips found her breast and he took her nipple into his mouth.

Emeriel cried, arching into him. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him to her. Oh, to feel this again… to have him again.

The sensation was sharper than she remembered, sharp as a hot jolt. She had always been sensitive there, but since her pregnancy, her breasts—her nipples—had become almost unbearably so. Tugs of his mouth made her breath hitch, stutter, stop.

She was so aroused she could feel her own slick against her thighs. Emeriel pressed them tightly together again, trying to alleviate the growing ache. Every pull soon turned into maddening torture, for where she needed him most remained blissfully empty.

“I need you.” She opened her eyes, pleading. “Inside me. Please.”

He stopped, pulling back. “Are you sure?” Eyes searched hers, pupils blown wide.

“Yes.” She nodded fervently. “Yes, please…”

So he moved. Catching her legs, he pulled until she slid to the edge, rose to stand at the foot, his eyes drinking her in. He leaned into her, bracing his hands on either side of her, his torso framed by her bent knees. He fit himself between her thighs as though he belonged there—and he did. He always had.

But as he lined his hardness to her core, the anxiety came again.