Page 45 of THE SOULBOND AND HER BELOVED (Beasts Of Wrath And Madness #4)

Chapter forty-five

IN LIGHT AND RETRIBUTION

Daemonikai delayed just outside the dungeon corridor until he heard Zaiper’s first blood-curdling scream. Only then did he walk away from the dungeon hallway. He soon stopped hearing them. Almost a regret.

He had instructed the guards to move Zaiper to the deepest, most fortified cell to keep his torture from disrupting the tranquility of the Citadel. But now, for the first time, he wondered about the wisdom of it.

Reaching his bedchamber, the scene greeting him caused him to pause.

There on the couch, Emeriel sat in sleep's soft embrace, holding their son, Daesovxscar, against her chest. His small mouth had slipped from her breast, milk dotting the taut, dark nipple still exposed to the cool air. Her arms held him close, even in sleep.

Daemonikai’s mouth went dry.

He was not a male to steal his youngling’s food—he had never done so before—but in the past few days, the thought had settled into his mind like an unsealed scroll. It was all he thought about.

“Your Highness,” came a soft whisper behind him.

He turned to find Livia in the doorway.

“I came to check if Princess Emeriel was done feeding the young prince, so I could bring in the little princess.”

“Is Heraxiolia fussy?” he asked.

“No, Your Grace. She sleeps.”

He glanced once more at his Soulbond and son. “Hold off from bringing her for now. My female sleeps, she needs to rest.”

Livia inclined her head. “Of course. They keep her awake all night.” She turned to leave.

“Livia.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“I’ve never said this before, but thank you for everything,” Daemonikai told her in a quiet tone. “Caring for my beloved long before she ever became mine. Protecting her, and her sister. For still watching over her to this day. I see and appreciate it truly. If you ever need anything, come to me. I will make it happen.”

Livia’s eyes glistened, and she bowed her head, swallowing emotion. “Thank you, my king. I don’t know why, but from the first day I saw her— them —they grew on me.” She looked back toward Emeriel and the baby. “I’m grateful I never fought those feelings. I’m happy things turned out the way they did.”

Daemonikai nodded slowly. “When the humans are set free, I sincerely hope you choose to stay. You will always have a life here.”

Livia smiled, touched. “I’ll give it thought, Your Grace.”

“Who knows... you may have dormant Syren traits waiting to be awakened by a compatible male.”

Livia laughed aloud. “Hopefully not. I’ve seen what the princesses go through during their heats. Even if it’s for a worthy cause... it’s a lot . I wouldn’t wish that on myself,” she added. “Plus, I am too old for such chaos.”

“At sixty-eight? You’re quite young. If you do have dormant Syren traits, and you bond with your mate—your body will begin aging backward. In a few years, you’ll return to your youth.”

“I heard about that.” Her cheeks warmed. “I’ll be happy with whichever the gods choose to bless me with—human, Urekai, or any other species. And if I don’t receive that gift… I’ll still be okay. I’ve lived this way for so long. It’s what I know, so I’ll be fine.”

Daemonikai watched her disappear around the corridor before turning into his chamber and quietly closing the door behind him.

His female stirred.

He walked soundlessly to her, careful as ever, lifting their son from her arms. The little one murmured softly but didn’t wake. As Daemonikai gently laid Daesovxscar onto the bed, Emeriel stirred again, her lashes fluttering.

He’d noticed this pattern—a habit she’d developed. No matter how softly he lifted the child, her body always sensed the absence. It was sweet, this bond of hers, but it also saddened him. She needed rest more than anything.

“Daemon?” she murmured, rubbing one eye. “You’ve returned.”

“I have.” His voice was soft. “Come, prettiest star. Lie down with me.”

He stood, extending his hand. She moved toward him— into him—sliding her arms around his neck, pulling him down until his cheek rested against her shoulder.

Just like that, the tension in him dissolved, and he relaxed into her hold. She always knew.

She knew how hard it had been for him to face Zaiper again. Choosing to step into that cell, confronting the one who’d caused the darkest years of his life, to ask why .

He knew what Zaiper would say, yet he wanted to hear him say it anyway. And he had confirmed it. All for the throne. Every betrayal, manipulation, and dark magic exchange… every life taken, all in the name of greed and blind ambition.

And I had been blind to it. Ignoring the signs, dismissing the undercurrents, undermining how far one is willing to go for power.

Never again.

“Punish him however you see fit,” Emeriel's voice was a whisper in the silence. “He deserves everything he gets and more.”

“Oh, that much I know.” Daemonikai nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. “I have big plans for him, but I’ll spare you the details. His name isn’t worth stirring the sand beneath your feet—let alone your ears.”

He slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly, her legs curving around his waist without hesitation. He carried her to the couch, sat, and held her there, body pressed to his chest, her heartbeat slow and steady against his own.

“Sleep, young princess,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“But Hera…”

“Can wait. You’re tired.” He patted her back, keeping his voice soft enough to induce sleep… even as he added the slightest hint of command. “Close your eyes and sleep for me, Riel.”

“Okay,” she breathed, already drifting.

He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, one arm wrapped around her waist, drinking in her scent. Surrounding himself with her . It soothed him, always had.

This was his sanctuary, his victory. Not the throne. Not the war won. Not the kingdom saved. Her.

Even as her breathing deepened and her body went lax in his hold, he stayed like that, unmoving.

Holding her.

For a long, long time.

***

Three Weeks Later

“By the power vested in me as Grand King of this court, and in the presence of these witnesses, I hereby declare all Bonds of Human Enslavement broken. From this day forward, you are no longer the property of Urekai but allies. Free people under the protection and respect of this kingdom.”

The court was overflowing. Humans filled every space, trailing from the dais down the carpeted aisle, pouring out the doors, and spilling into the hallway beyond. Every human in Urai was present.

At the front of it all, Emeriel stood tall beside her king, heart brimming with emotion. Her gaze drifted across the sea of faces, landing on her sister. Aekeira was smiling through tears. Just like so many others.

Grand King Daemonikai continued, voice firm but warm. “I have already sent word to the twelve human kingdoms, informing their kings that the humans here are no longer captives, but allies of Urai. From this moment, no harm shall befall you—not by royal decree, nor by custom, nor by whispered prejudice.”

He scanned the crowd. “Any human who wishes to return to their homelands may do so without restriction. Those who wish to stay will not be slaves, but citizens—with full freedom and the rights that come with it. You may work for wages. You may own land. You may build homes and raise families and live among us as equals.”

Tears fell freely now.

He went on, detailing the legal rights, social changes, and protections being enforced. And when he finally paused, the entire chamber erupted.

“Long live the Grand King!”

The cry reverberated like music, rippling from lips to hearts, rising to the high ceiling, until even the stones felt like they vibrated with joy.

The Dragaxlov throne still stood vacant, but Lord Herod was doing very well in his rigorous training. If the people’s prediction held, he would rise to his role within two centuries or less.

Emeriel had not told him, nor Amie, about their compatibility. She followed the Oracle’s guidance, allowing fate to unfold naturally. Pushing it, the Oracle warned, could disrupt the natural order.

And so far… the Oracle was right.

Even without her intervention, the two had gravitated toward each other. Amie often found excuses to slip away from her duties, hiding just to watch Lord Herod train. On more than one occasion, Emeriel caught her sneaking food from the royal kitchens to bring to him.

It was endearing, to say the least.

Perhaps it’s time to enroll her in etiquette school . If she was to become a grand lady in the far-off future, it would be wise to start preparing now.

As celebration filled the halls and music spilled into the courtyards, High Lord Jakal hurried toward her, beaming like a giddy youngling.

“Beautiful Princess!” he exclaimed, his face alight. “Forgive me for the interruption, but I never thanked you properly for what you did for me.” Without warning, he pulled her into a tight hug, brief but genuine. “You are a blessing to mankind.”

Emeriel smiled warmly. “You are welcome, my lord.”

Since news of her being a bond seer went wide, the high lord had been the first to camp outside the Royal Residence for days, refusing to leave. Even when told she wasn’t accepting visitors due to her recent delivery, he was relentless.

Eventually, she agreed to see him.

And thus began his journey. He came back four more times, each with a different woman—hopeful, wide-eyed, asking her to read their compatibility. On his fifth visit, Emeriel had finally seen his match.

High Lord Jakal had been glowing like he had swallowed the stars themselves since then. He had once told Emeriel he would kiss the ground she walked on for eternity, and it seemed he was determined to make good on that promise.

He wasn’t the only one she had helped.

Unfortunately, the two other couples did not have joyful endings. In both cases, Emeriel had to tell the heartbreaking truth: They were not compatible. No matter how in love they believed themselves to be, it was better to end things now than endure the devastation of a failed bonding ritual later. It was never easy.

They rarely took the news well in the moment. There were tears, even anger. But time brought clarity, and eventually, they always returned to her with gratitude.

So it was safe to say the people of Urekai treated her like a treasure.

Lord Ottai had once told her his great-grandmother was revered for being a bond seer. But Emeriel had never truly understood what that meant until now. As each day passed, the reverence shown to her became clearer. It humbled her deeply, making her feel cherished and blessed.

She would never take it for granted.

***

In the days that followed, many humans chose to return to their homelands. Caravans departed from the Citadel gates, guarded by Urekai troops, bound for the human kingdoms. But others chose to stay.

Emeriel’s heart warmed most when Madam Livia and Amie came to her, announcing they would remain. She officially employed them in the Citadel and enrolled them into formal study houses.

Madam Livia declined to attend etiquette school—"I'm too old for dainty manners," she’d said with a laugh—but joined Amie in the academic halls.

Amie, on the other hand, threw herself fully into both programs. Emeriel was quietly pleased.

Prince Daviel had written her a few days earlier. His father was gravely ill—his health deteriorating rapidly with the arrival of winter. Daviel had begun assuming more duties, preparing for the inevitable.

Emeriel had sent her condolences. But truthfully, she could not care less if the tyrant king was dying. It had been a long time coming.

Daviel, for all his faults, would be a far better ruler than his father ever was.

Mistress Sinai’s funeral had taken place a week earlier. Her body had been found in the border woods, mauled by ferals during the eclipse moon. Theories suggested she had attempted to flee to the werewolf territories but was viciously attacked. Her remains were recovered and buried in the Citadel.

Emeriel didn’t know what it said about her, but… she was glad the woman was gone for good. Hopefully, Daemonikai’s next bloodhost would be a good female. Someone like Lady Merilyn—kind, stable, devoted. Until then, Emeriel would feed and nourish him herself.

She had even adapted her diet for it. While her blood never fully satisfied his needs the way a bloodhost’s would, he was never truly hungry either—so he was safe.

With his bloodlust kept in check, and his sexlust naturally dormant after her childbirth—as was typical of his kind—he hadn’t had a feral episode since the last one. Some days he got restless… occasionally, the voices even rose to a murmur. But overall, he was doing well.

Sinai’s letter had led to the discovery of the hidden den where Zaiper had imprisoned females to breed during their heats. Some were found too late, lives already lost before the rescue could come, but many were still alive. Malnourished and scarred, but alive.

Some days, her grand king went to the dungeon to see Zaiper.

He would return hours later, blood staining his clothes. He never spoke of what he did there. Just bathed, changed into fresh robes, and came to spend the evening with her and the children.

Emeriel didn’t ask, she didn’t need to.

With Lord Vladya’s soul restored, her sister was glowing. Their son, Aleksian, was as fussy as her Heraxiolia, but that was more than okay. Their children were the highlights of their days.

She was the happiest she had ever been. And so was Aekeira.

***

Zaiper's screams rolled down the dungeon corridor, bouncing off walls as Daemonikai sawed through his leg with a cutlass—whistling a slow, melodic tune. Blood sprayed, splashing onto Daemonikai’s robes, forming a growing puddle.

“This blade’s gone dull,” he said conversationally, examining the edge. “Get me the dagger.”

A guard handed it to him from the wall of instruments, so much polished steel behind them.

Daemonikai discarded the cutlass with a soft clatter and resumed with the dagger, slicing deep into muscle and tendon, never missing a beat in his whistle.

“ Please! AHhhhhhh! ” Zaiper howled. An animal sound, born of unbearable pain.

Daemonikai sawed clean through until the leg detached entirely. He lifted it, holding it up like a prized relic.

“I hope you don’t mind if I keep this,” he said casually, inspecting the severed limb. “It’s a clean slice. Unfortunately for you, it won’t regenerate—considering I’ve taken the entire limb. You’ll have to forgive me. I got carried away.”

He smiled faintly. “But don’t worry, I won’t let you die. What’s a leg, really? You can do without it.”

Zaiper was barely conscious, his breathing ragged, eyes glassy and unfocused.

Daemonikai tilted his head. “He didn’t hear that, did he?” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll make the decision for you then.”

He waved the leg in front of Zaiper’s face before tossing it aside like a useless stick.

“Binding cloths. Now,” he ordered, wiping the blade on his sleeve. “We can’t let him bleed out. His life is very important.”

“ Please... just... let me die, ” Zaiper croaked, voice no louder than a whisper.

Daemonikai chuckled. “Now, why would I do that?”

He pressed cloth to the stump, sealing it tightly. Zaiper writhed, screaming again, but the binds held fast.

“I still need you functional. We’ve got four more ferals waiting, and they’re not exactly known for their patience.” His voice lowered. “You really have no idea what it feels like—when your instincts go unmet. But I do. It’s agony.”

Zaiper spat. “You’re a monster…”

Daemonikai looked up from his knotwork, smiling faintly. “One you created. You wanted me mad, didn’t you?” He tied the last knot viciously, and Zaiper howled again.

“Oh, Zaiper… if you knew how hard it was to control the kill-and-destroy urge, you'd have mercy on me. But thanks to you ,” he said, straightening with a sigh. “I get to release some of that pent-up energy.” He gestured toward Zaiper’s mangled body. “There. All nice and done.”

The male was nearly unrecognizable now. But Daemonikai couldn’t take full credit—the ferals had torn him apart with claws and teeth. One pair had gone so far as to rip his intestines out, and Daemonikai had personally stuffed them back in before ordering him stitched up. Nice and clean.

He smirked. “What can I say? I’m having fun.”

He crouched again. “Now, let’s try this once more. Where is the dark mage?”

“I—I can’t—”

“Wrong answer. Bring me the battle hammer.”

Zaiper’s head lifted instantly, panic flashing in his blood-crusted eyes. “No, no, no, no, please— ”

Hammer handed to Daemonikai, he raised it without hesitation.

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you—!”

“Too late,” Daemonikai drawled. “You may tell me after .”

BANG.

Zapier’s femur shattered.

The scream that followed wasn’t human. It was something less . Something ripped apart from the inside out .

Daemonikai blinked slowly. “Hm.” He struck again.

BANG.

This scream, Daemonikai could not describe, but it was the best music yet. However, it cut off at a high tone…

Zaiper had passed out.

Daemonikai stood, peering down at him, lips thinning. “What sort of alpha passes out under such little pressure?”

He turned to the guards and they shook their heads, disappointed.

Daemonikai clicked his tongue, giving Zaiper’s shattered leg a light kick. “Hey. Get up. You can’t just check out mid-session, it’s rude.”

No response.

“Water,” he said, flicking blood off his fingers.

The door opened, then closed. Moments later, a guard returned with a steaming bucket.

Daemonikai dipped his fingers in, frowning. “Hot, but not scalding. What kind of nonsense is this?”

“I apologize, Your Grace. They’re bringing hotter water. Do you wish to wait?”

Daemonikai didn’t answer. He simply lifted the bucket and poured the contents straight into Zaiper’s ear.

The male jerked violently, coughing up water and blood.

Daemonikai smiled, pleased. “You really shouldn’t faint like that. It’s absolutely disrespectful . ”

“Daemon... please, have mercy.” The voice was barely audible, strangled between shabby breaths and pain.

Daemonikai paused, staring down at the broken male before him. “Mercy.” He let the word roll on his tongue. “That’s one word I have never heard before. What does it mean?” He kicked the bound, mangled stump of Zaiper’s leg.

Zaiper shrieked in pure torment. “I’m sorry…” he gasped, tears leaking from swollen eyes. “I shouldn’t have done the things I did…”

“Oh no, don’t start ruining the mood now.” Daemonikai crouched again. “It’s only been a month, and you’re already giving up? I had such lovely plans for us. I want us to be like this for a long, long time.”

“Please…” Zaiper coughed, shuddering. His skin was pale, he could barely lift his head.

“You know, our people are petitioning for your death.” Daemonikai sighed in exaggerated drama, “They want you gone. Past tense, forgotten… they want you to disappear into history. I will give that to them. Eventually.” He stood upright, rolling his shoulders, stretching. “But when that time comes, Zaiper, there will be barely a flicker of life left in you.”

Zaiper let out a broken sob. “I should have never… killed your family.”

Daemonikai grasped the hammer again. “Correct.” Stepped forward and raised it again. “Now. One more time. I’m aiming for your knee this time. Where is the dark mage?”

Zaiper spilled everything about the mage like running water. Names, rituals, locations, summoning spells, traps, weaknesses, hideouts. He coughed out every secret, every layer of protection, every binding charm.

When he was done, trembling and sobbing, Daemonikai smiled in a smugly victorious way. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Zaiper cried in earnest. Full, broken bawl of sorrow, tearing from him like a dying animal’s last breath, because deep down, he knew what had just happened.

He’d given away his final card. His last shred of leverage. This wasn’t just pain, it was surrender.

A bitter, soul-deep admission that Daemonikai had won.

Not that Daemonikai needed the validation—his victory had been sealed long ago. But watching Zaiper break… watching him acknowledge it ? That was just the perfect finishing touch.

Daemonikai wiped his hands on a cloth and turned away. “My work here today is done. Get the next two ferals ready.”

“No! Please, no! ” Zaiper wailed.

A guard hesitated. “Your Grace… he may die. His body’s failing, and he needs to bloodfeed. Perhaps a few days to recover?”

Daemonikai turned back, staring down at the trembling shell of what used to be an alpha.

He considered.

Then smiled. “Nah, he’ll be fine. Bring them in.”

Zaiper screamed as the guards moved, but Daemonikai didn’t look back.

The cell door closed with a final, echoing thud.

***

Six Months Later

The largest arena in the capital was filled to bursting. Every citizen of Urai, every human who had remained, every allied kingdom emissary was present. All gathered to witness a moment long awaited—the execution of Urai’s greatest traitor.

Zaiper Dragaxlov was wheeled into view in one piece. Kind of.

The soldiers had stitched him together. Limbs held with crude thread, skin rotted in places, black with infection. Flies buzzed at his face. His body stank like decay. But at least he still breathed.

His eyes were hollow, sunken deep into his skull. His once-muscular body was reduced to a crawling echo of ruin.

“Do you have any last words?”

“To everyone… I’m… sorry… for… what I did.”

His voice was hardly audible. Daemonikai had severed his vocal cords, and he ended up coughing up a storm. Perhaps they hadn’t healed right? Oh well.

The executioner positioned his blade and performed his job. A clean severing.

Zaiper’s head tumbled down the stone, rolling like meat down a butcher’s block.

The crowd exploded in cheers and praise.

And right there, before everyone, the story of Lord Zaiper Dragaxlov came to an end.