by Bailey Dark
Slowly, I trail my fingers along Lilith’s round jaw. She eases into my touch, a soft smile playing on her lips. I stroke her neck for an instant before wrapping my hand around it. She gasps, choking as I tighten my grip. Her hands come up to her neck, clawing at me. I smile. “Things have changed, Lilith. I don’t find you quite as captivating as I did before. I have a new toy to entertain me, and she is mouth-watering.”
I toss Lilith aside and she collapses against the column, coughing. She glowers at me through thick lashes but I merely smile. For hundreds of years I was wrapped around her finger, oblivious to her game. But over and over she hurt me when she no longer had a use for me. I smirk at her, relishing in the anger radiating from her perfect figure. Now, it’s my turn to twist the strings.
Footsteps clipping along the marble, I push through the crowds blocking the balcony. I can’t see Briar through the doors. My mother dips her chin at me as I pass her. She makes her way towards Lilith and I scowl. Desona always had a soft spot for the vampire. Once, it made me happy to know my mother supported my relationship, now it’s only a nuisance. The last party-goer stumbles out of my path as I reach the balcony doorway.
The balcony is made of dark stone, glossy in the moonlight. Trees from the garden below hide it partially from the view of the city, but the lights still flicker through the leaves like lightning bugs in the mortal realm. Cool air ruffles my hair and I take off my mask, grateful to feel it on my skin. I sigh, tossing my head back. I had expected Briar, wherever she ran off to, to come slipping back when she heard me and saw me without my mask. But she stays hidden.
I growl irritably and pace the balcony, trailing the railing from end to end in search of her. But she isn’t here. Tongue in cheek, I stalk back into the throne room, scanning the crowd for her red, demonic mask. Five minutes later, nose filled with the scent of poppies and roses, I still have yet to find my bride. Suspicion pricks at me, like a small thorn in my chest. I send my shadows over the room and into the halls beyond in search of her signature. I wait as the dark tendrils streak across the floor and along the walls. But I don’t feel her energy anywhere. Eyes narrowed, I use my shadows to find Willem.
My Second is lounging on one of the plush sofas, two demons in his lap. The women stroke his chest and brush their lips over his jaw while he lazes, watching the dancing. A pipe is abandoned nearby, red-tinged smoke still curling from it. I eye the haze-inducing drug with disgust. Willem turns his eyes on me, chest sagging. The women have yet to notice my presence.
“Come to ruin the fun?” Willem drones, palms up.
“Where is Briar?” I ask demandingly.
He raises a brow. “Why should I know? Last I saw her, she was on the balcony recovering from your venom. You should dose her more often—she’s much more interesting when she’s relaxed.”
“Willem,” I growl. “I can’t find her anywhere.”
This gives him pause. He mulls over this until one of the women mewls pathetically, searching for his attention. “I’m sure she’s nearby,” he says, turning his lips to the woman.
A growl rips from my throat. “Willem.”
Willem sighs, lips hovering over the woman’s neck. He rises and they collapse back onto the sofa. They watch sleepily as Willem shrugs. “Sorry, ladies,” he says. “Duty calls.”
“Search the grounds for her,” I say, already looking for the castle guards. “Do it discreetly.”
“You’re the boss,” Willem mutters.
“Willem,” I snap. He pauses mid-step towards the balcony. I relax my brows. “Thank you.”
Willem merely nods before setting off. I approach the castle guards nearby and instruct them to search for Briar quietly and quickly. One by one, the guards slip out of the throne room, unnoticed by my drunk and distracted guests. My eyes rove over the throne room, taking in the swaying bodies and smoke-filled air. The music pulses loudly, aggressively, and the dancers writhe. But no Briar.
I feel a light hand on my arm and stiffen as my mother comes into view. “Darling, what’s wrong?” She asks. Her smile could light up a room if I didn’t know the foulness behind it.
“Briar is missing,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Missing?” Desona’s smile broadens. “I’m sure she’s just returned to her room. A party like this must be too much for the poor girl.”
“She would have handled it, endured it,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Desona sighs. “Then perhaps she was upset by our conversation earlier, and that’s why she left. But I’m certain she’s alright, just tucked away in her room. Now, let’s enjoy the night.”
I cut my eyes towards her, anger sitting in my chest like a hot coal. “What conversation?”
“Well.” Desona waves a hand. “I just told her she wasn’t quite suited for you. I’m sure you would agree.”
I laugh mirthlessly. My mother wouldn’t have said such a thing as simply and kindly as she claims. No, she would have cut Briar deeply with it and then forced salt into the wound. I turn on her, rising to my full height so I tower over her. My black eyes flash with rage. “You have no business telling Briar such things, mother,” I growl. “You don’t know why I do the things I do, why I need the things I need. Don’t act as if you do. And if you ever speak such words to Briar again, I’ll toss you into Zculth.”
Desona exhales sharply through her nose, an angry sound. “You dare speak to me that way? You may be my son and a member of the Three but I won’t tolerate it.”
“As I won’t tolerate your bullying,” I snap.
“You need time to calm down,” Desona says, ignoring me. “Find me later when you’re relaxed and I’ll accept your apology.”
I scowl at her as she disappears into the crowd. Anger surges through me, violent and desperate. I clench my hand into a fist at my side, wishing there was something nearby I could break. Or for an insignificant victim I can strangle with my darkness. Clanking reaches my ears as a castle guard approaches. He removes his helmet, panting. I glower at him, still nursing my fury at Desona.
“Your Majesty,” the guard says, breathing hard. “We found a body.”
Cold fear lances through me like a spear to the heart. My anger dissolves as every cell in my body is doused with terror. “Is it briar?” I ask numbly.
“We aren’t sure.” The guard shakes his head.
“Show me,” I demand, pushing past him.
He jogs to keep up and guides me through the castle halls to the main floor. I throw open the doors leading to the gardens, guard pointing the way. We make our way through the rose and water gardens to the long stretch of lawn near the castle wall. Trees line the wall, offering more privacy from prying eyes. In the shadows, I see a crumpled form against one of the trunks. Guards circle it, muttering indistinctly. It all looks so familiar, an almost perfect replica of the scene I visited in the city just earlier this week.
I hear wings beating above me. Willem lands lithely, folding his wings against his back. “Kane,” he says, voice filled with warning.
I ignore him, eyes locked on the shadowy form hidden in the trees. Aron, a castle guard, ushers the others out of the way as I stop beside the body. A girl with black hair, dressed in servant’s robes, lies in the grass. Her pupils are dilated, hiding her irises completely. But there’s no life behind these eyes.
“She was soul-leeched,” I mutter. “Inside my walls.”
“We think the intruder came through the servant quarters,” Aron offers.
“I want all of our best men hunting for the rogue Nephilim.” I tear my eyes away from the servant girl. “And I want all of you searching for Briar.”
I glance back down at the corpse. She was once beautiful, I’m sure. But now, in death, she simply looks terrified. I feel sorry for the woman. But I can’t deny the swell of gratitude in my chest, or my relief that the victim wasn’t Briar. I shove past the guards and into open space, taking a lungful of air. Grateful indeed.
Chapter 13
&n
bsp; Briar
The cold seeps into my skin and into my bones, making my body ache uncomfortably. My fingers twitch as I wake, dragging over a freezing, smooth surface; like granite. I force my eyes open, fighting against the heaviness of the lids. I just want to sleep. I could sleep forever, if it weren’t for the cold tugging at my consciousness. I run my tongue over my dry, cracked lips and realize that the familiar weight of my mask is missing.
I wonder vaguely if I left it at the ball before I came to wherever this place is. I turn my head, taking in the space. I’m lying in a dimly lit room. A low-burning torch hands from the wall adjacent to a warped wooden door. The room is sparse, empty of furniture except for the slab I’m laying on and a rickety wooden chair. My mind is a fog of confusion as I take in the unfamiliar surroundings. There’s a warning prick in the back of my mind, a nagging thought that I shouldn’t be here.
The last thing I remember is being on the balcony with Kane’s mother. She threatened me. Is this another part of the ball? Another strange custom I don’t know? Perhaps it’s how the Gods and immortal creatures of the Underworld amuse themselves. I stare up at a spider on the ceiling. It works judiciously, weaving a web just above my head.
“Hello?” I call nervously.
Silence. My words echo around the small space, but there’s no response. Not even the spider acknowledges my words. I struggle to sit up, even though my limbs feel heavy like they’ve been dipped in lead. I grunt, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t rise. Panic sets in, fear and confusion roiling together until my heart is beating faster than it ever has before. I look down, eyes aching from the odd angle, and see a thick band of leather running over my breasts and biceps. Gasping, I try to move my legs but I feel the same binds holding them in place.
My fingers twitch with fear and I can’t seem to catch my breath. Eyes wide, I stare wildly around the room for any sign of my whereabouts. Deep down, I know this isn’t some prank, or even Desona’. This is real. Vaguely, I remember hearing rustling outside the balcony. I remember a dark shadow blocking out the city lights. And that’s the last thing I remember at all before the cold.
I swallow thickly, my thought dry from fear. I’ve been abducted. The spider above me starts making its way down on a silken thread. I watch in agony as it grows closer. Grunting, I wrestle against the restraints but they’re tight and immovable. My blood roars in my ears, pumping so quickly I begin to feel like I’ll pass out again.
“Help,” I cry, my voice strangled. “Somebody help!”
Footsteps echo in the hall and I clamp my mouth shut. Unless someone were already looking for me and had found me—the only one the footsteps could belong to is my kidnapper. I feel sick, wishing I had kept my mouth shut, as a shadow passes beneath the door. The spider stops its descent. My eyes dart between the spider and the shadow at the door as sweat beads on my forehead. The doorknob clicks and the spider scrambles back up its thread.
I stare, wide-eyed at the door as a figure darkens it. Bright light streaks around the man in the doorway, blinding me. I turn my head away from the light instinctively and then back towards the door, intent on not taking my eyes from the man. He closes the door, stepping into the room. My eyes adjust back to the dim light and I watch him fearfully.
The man is tall, with narrow shoulders and hips. His jaw is angular and sharp, and his eyes are small and beady and red. His white blonde hair has been cropped short on the sides and one lock hangs limply on his forehead. I feel a tremor shoot through me as he takes silent steps towards me. I wonder if it’s my soul shaking from fear.
“Hello, little mortal,” The Nephilim says with a warm smile.
“Let me go,” I whisper, straining against the leather.
“You don’t even want to ask why I brought you here? Or beg for your life? Or make me empty promises?” The Nephilim cocks a brow. “I suppose you truly are a princess if you think you’re in any position to make demands.”
I run my tongue over my lips nervously, his eyes track the movement. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“There it is,” the Nephilim coos.
I fall silent, despair washing over me as the Nephilim cross the room towards a small table I hadn’t noticed before. He rummages through the drawers, humming to himself. His casual demeanor makes me even more frightened. He isn’t worried that someone will find him—even though he must know kidnapping a guest from the King’s party won’t go unnoticed. Or perhaps it would. Perhaps he’s counting on the revelry to make everyone forget I was even there. Kane included. I strain against my bonds, biting my lip, but they hold fast.
“Don’t worry,” the Nephilim says, striding back towards me with a slim dagger in hand. I writhe, stretching my body to the side to get away from him. “It will be over soon.”
“Please, don’t,” I whimper as he looms over me, knife glistening. “Please, I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt me.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, darling.” He looks at me sympathetically.
“Let me go!” I scream wildly.
“Shh,” he murmurs, stroking my forehead with a cool hand. I scream again, the shrill sound bouncing off the chamber walls. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my cheek and blood in my mouth. My head aches. The Nephilim glowers down at me, palm pink from the force of his slap. I stare at him mutely, blood filling my mouth.
He paces, eyes narrowed, and brandishes the dagger. “Look what you made me do,” he hisses. “If you would just be quiet, quiet, I wouldn’t have to hurt you.”
He mutters to himself, pacing the room. I feel numb, even my fear has ebbed somewhat as grim acceptance fills me. I’m going to die here, I realize. There’s nothing I can do to stop it from happening. I’m bound too tightly to move, trapped in a tiny room with a man more dangerous than anyone I encountered in the mortal realm, and no one knows I’m missing. I watch him, blinking stupidly, as he comes to a halt at my side.
“Will you promise to be quiet?” He asks. “If you are, I won’t cut out your tongue.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Very good,” The Nephilim says, sighing with relief. He tosses the blade back onto the table with a giddy smile. “Then we won’t be needing that, will we?”
I shake my head.
The Nephilim bends over me, brushing my hair away from my face as gently as a lover might. His breath wafts over my face. It’s sweet, like oranges. I don’t pull away from him, knowing that if I do, he may hit me again. I would rather die peacefully than in pain. Fear hums through my blood as he gazes down at me hungrily.
“Do you know how many Nephilim have ever managed to taste the delicious soul of a mortal?” He asks. “Come on, take a guess.”
I swallow thickly. “Fifty.”
“Even less.” He leans closer, smiling. He waves a hand, encouraging me to take another gamble.
“Thirteen,” I whisper.
“Eight,” he breathes. He says the number reverently, almost closing his eyes.
I inhale sharply, heart beating quickly and lightly. Kane’s words echo in my mind. You, alive and with a soul, would become nothing but a shell if you fell victim to a Nephilim. You would be theirs to command, an empty husk. You would be nothing. I’m not going to die, I realize. I’m going to cease to exist. I won’t even be able to make a home with my mother in the afterlife if this Nephilim leeches my soul. Tears prick at my eyes at the realization and I clench my hands into fists. Fear pounds through me, like raw power and energy.
“I want to savor this. I want to savor you.” The Nephilim strokes my cheek.
He moves quickly and a shrill shriek rips from my throat. It’s cut short when I realize his hands are at the restraints, loosening them. He works quickly, undoing the leather bonds with ease. He looks at me while he works, grinning. The Nephilim isn’t worried that I’ll bolt. He’s completely confident. I wonder just how many times he’s done this and I feel sick.
“There, sit up,” he says, watching with bright eyes.
I swi
ng my legs over the granite slab, eyes darting towards the door. I judge the distance, no more than five strides. But he would catch me before I even make it to the door. I need a weapon, something to slow him down with. I glance at the dagger on the table. I can’t reach it with him in here, watching me. I can’t reach it without leaving the slab, and that he would never let me do.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask, voice trembling. I know Kane was trying to hide me from the Nephilim, but apparently, he failed.
“Oh, I have my ways.” The Nephilim joins me on the slab, like we’re two new lovers enjoying a quiet evening together. “It would bore you.”
“Have you always been rogue?” I blurt as his lips move towards mine. I’m desperate to distract him, to delay the inevitable.
The Nephilim scowls. “I am not a rogue. I am simply behaving as Nephilims were created to behave. We are not dogs to be trained or corralled. Soon, Kane will know this.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes widen at his cryptic words.
“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps. He licks his lips hungrily. “Close your eyes, I just want a little taste.”
I don’t have time to protest before his lips are on mine. I freeze, my entire body stiff with shock. Cold sweeps over me like the wind of a frozen tundra. The Nephilim’s lips are soft, and it might have even been a pleasant kiss. But my body is seizing, fingers curling and twitching unnaturally. I feel a deep tug in my core and then a soft pop, like he’s uncorked a bottle of champagne. But I’m the bottle. The kiss lasts for only a second, even though it feels like it stretched on for hours.
He pulls away, looking breathless. He pants, pupils dilated so his red irises are completely covered in black. He might look almost normal this way. The Nephilim shakes, tossing his head back with a maniacal laugh. I can’t move—couldn’t even if I wanted to. My body is frozen, trembling, and I feel like I’m missing a piece. There’s an ache in my body that I can’t pinpoint, it spread through my entire body. And still, I’m so cold.