by Olivia March
Nefarion prowled away then, and Annabelle got the pleasure of watching him take off all the armor he was wearing. She loved the way he looked in all that sleek, black armor, but a bared Nefarion was even more amazing. She was sure if her mouth opened right that second a copious amount of rather unattractive drool would leak out, so she stayed silent and just enjoyed the show.
Tohran, on the other hand, looked far less entertained. He scowled at Nefarion’s casual nudity and sat down on a nearby chair before pulling out a piece of wood from his pocket. He put his attention firmly on that wood, whittling it with care, and studiously avoiding the side of the room where Nefarion was divested of all his clothing and climbing into a hot bath that Annabelle hadn’t even noticed was there, so distracted had she been by the flowers. A naked, wet Nefarion…her willpower was going to hit maximum provocation tonight. And he no doubt knew that, damn it.
“Will you assist me, mate?” came his darkly tempting voice. God, she loved the sound of his voice. Just hearing him talk made her skin tighten with need. His voice was so deep, but so musical. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make an impression, in fact she’d never heard him do so in her presence, and she loved that too. Raised voices made her nervous, and always had.
“What kind of assistance?” Annabelle asked, walking hesitantly towards the bath. She didn’t think he would ever hurt her. But she also knew he wasn’t above using every possible advantage to get what he wanted, and her resistance to being seduced was weak today.
“Just a scrub on my back little one,” he replied, the eyes he turned her way full of secret amusement. “And some help rinsing out my hair once I have it clean.”
“I…I’m pretty sure you can do those things yourself Nefarion.” Touch all that pearlescent skin? Wash it and stroke it? No way could she do that and not get turned on.
“Are you afraid, little one? Tohran over there will keep me from doing anything without your permission, won’t you Forest Keeper?”
Tohran didn’t look up from his carving, but replied, “He is correct. If he tries to coerce you into bed, I’ll make him regret it. But if you choose to go there willingly, I’ll be out that door, mission complete.”
Annabelle looked back and forth between the two men, torn. She needed to think, something completely impossible when Nefarion was walking around naked, trying to tempt her into something she wasn’t sure she could handle. Well, the sex she could, the lifelong commitment and royal title she couldn’t. At least she hadn’t thought she’d be willing, but after all the reflection she’d done today and talking with Gwen and Tohran, she wasn’t quite sure anymore. Especially in the face of Nefarion’s seemingly earnest courtship. But could she really turn down a simple request considering all kindness he’d tried to show her tonight? No. She really couldn’t.
“Okay, I will scrub your back. And only your back. And then I will rinse your hair. No shenanigans though, I’m not agreeing to…mate with you. Or to be intimate with you. I just want to help you, that’s all.”
Nefarion smiled at this, a cagey look in his eye. “If you wanted to help me, you’d be my mate. You’d have that abomination in your womb removed and accept my seed there. You’d make me yours, and be princess of Balruin.”
Annabelle sighed, advancing on weighted feet. Nefarion watched her closely, and when she was ready he leaned forward and allowed her to scrub his back. She did a thorough job of it, massaging hard into the muscles to rid them of any soreness from the day’s campaign. She’d been at it a few minutes before she had gathered her thoughts enough for a reply.
“No Nefarion. I would not be helping you by doing any of those things. You told me before, repeatedly, that Balruin Keepers are savage. That they are brutal, and manipulative, and ruthless. What kind of queen could I be for your people? I’m none of those things. I’m an astronomer. I enjoy charting stars, and reading books with a cup of hot chocolate, and watching the same movies and shows repeatedly because knowing how they end brings me endless comfort. I’m not particularly strong, and I know nothing about fighting, or weapons, or warfare. I couldn’t engage in political intrigues, because honesty has always been so important to me that lying is impossible. Tell me how a woman such as me would be an asset to you.”
There was silence in the tent, from both Nefarion and Tohran. Not an angry silence, or even a frustrated one. If anything, Nefarion looked as inscrutable as he normally did, much moving behind the eyes but nothing showing on the surface. He finished washing and allowed Annabelle to rinse his hair, all without comment. But when he stood, and all that water sluiced off his gorgeous body, he turned and looked Annabelle directly in the eye.
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t feel it?” His hands were fisted at his sides, and Annabelle noted the edges of his body become slightly shadowed.
“Feel what, Nefarion?” she asked warily, backing up a step.
“Palace intrigues and skills with weapons and ability to fight and any of the myriad of skills you’d need to learn to be queen, that all would come in time. What I want to know is if you feel what I feel, what I have felt since the first night I saw you sitting all alone in the dark. When we met, and I saved your life, I felt a tether anchoring me to you, from my heart to your heart. And every day it grows stronger inside my body, until every single moment I’m awake, I think of you. And when I finally sleep, I dream of you. Not having you in my life isn’t an option for me, because without you I won’t even want to live anymore. In you, I found the person I was fated to be with for all my days. I will do as much of this human wooing as you want, because any exertion towards making you forever mine is worth any amount of trouble. My heart beats for you. Do you not feel that too?”
Annabelle stood there, her heart breaking in her chest. Nefarion’s intense black eyes were seeing inside her soul at that moment. And she finally began to understand what she’d been trying to deny. Yes, any sacrifice would be worth it if she got Nefarion, she’d realized that already. But not being with him for his sake, because she wouldn’t be a suitable mate for him, that was the idea Nefarion had just completely smashed into a million pieces. His heart beat for her. He’d make any sacrifice to have her in his life. And she would do the same for him. She finally admitted that to herself, and the tears started to fall.
“I do feel it. I’ve always felt it. I saw you kill five men while I was naked and helpless on the ground. I’ve seen how dangerous you are close up in the flesh. And despite that, I’ve done nothing but want you every single minute from that first moment. I just…I just didn’t believe I was right for you. I’m still not sure I do believe that. But I love you. I’ll always will love you. And if you feel that way about me too, I’m willing to take a chance on us. I’ll do my best to be the wife you need. As long as you’ll keep loving me, even when I fail.”
They were staring at each other so earnestly that Annabelle never noticed when Tohran slipped out of the room. She just stood, mesmerized, as Nefarion stepped out of the tub and began to walk towards her. This was really going to happen. She’d accepted him and said she’d be his wife. God, could she really do this? Be a wife, a mother, a princess and later a queen? Had she ever really had a chance at saying no? Had she ever really wanted to? Nefarion was her dream come to life; a dark, intense man who loved her beyond reason.
“I am going to call Nathal to our tent, little one. He will remove that device in your womb, and then I will spend the rest of the night buried inside you. When you scream, it will be my name on your lips, and when you cry out for more I will be there, over and over again, until we’re both too exhausted to move or think.”
Annabelle audibly swallowed. She wanted Nefarion, and that wanting traveled through her whole body with liquid heat, preparing itself for Nefarion’s possession. He didn’t even bother to get dressed, just stood there, arms crossed, staring at her. Annabelle’s mouth dried up, and she looked to the table for something to drink. Thank God there was a bottle of wine there, already uncorked. She had a
feeling she would need the drink a few times before the night was out. Some liquid courage to handle Nefarion’s voracious appetite wouldn’t go amiss for sure.
She walked over to the table and poured herself a generous glass, feeling Nefarion’s eyes on her the whole time. She drank the first one down quickly before pouring another, but the second glass she sipped more slowly, not wanting to get drunk even before the healer arrived. And wow was this wine potent…her insides began to heat immediately, and she felt a little light-headed.
No, not just light-headed…sick. She felt sick to her stomach, the unmistakable signs of incoming vomit pinging alarm bells in her head. Annabelle dropped the wine glass back to the table and clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes desperately seeking something to throw up into so she didn’t disgrace herself by puking on the floor.
“Annabelle, what’s wrong?”
Nefarion’s voice came to her, but it sounded like it was coming from a distance, through a tunnel. All her attention focused on a chamber pot type device on the other side of the room, and she dashed over to it quickly before falling to her knees and heaving violently, everything in her stomach exiting in a violent, disgusting rush. She vaguely felt Nefarion holding her hair back and speaking to her, but she couldn’t register his words. Because instead of feeling the relief she expected to feel once the first rush of sickness was past, she began to feel even more ill. She heaved, and heaved, until nothing was left to throw up. But her body found a way, and to her horror, she began to throw up blood.
Before long Annabelle felt consciousness trying to leave her. Her whole body was wracked with pain, terrible pain. She was cold, and hot, and her insides felt like acid was eating through her cells. She felt hands lifting her, and then cool sheets at her back, but her mind was too focused internally to acknowledge what was happening. She was thirsty…so thirsty…and hot. Was she hot or cold? Her body kept shaking, she couldn’t stop it. That had to be cold, right? But she was burning up inside, like she had a fever.
What was that she was hearing? Annabelle tried to focus on the voice. She knew that voice…she loved that voice, the smooth, lyrical darkness of it wrapping around her body like a warm blanket. It was more strident than usual though, practically barking at her instead of soothing. Right now, she just wanted soothing…she wanted to escape the pain she was feeling in sleep. Annabelle knew that if she could just fall asleep now then the pain would go away. How she wanted the pain to go away…
“Annabelle, damn you! Listen to me, wake up! Nathal is here, he will help you. But you must stay with me. Don’t leave me. I swear if you die I will cut my own throat and look for you. I won’t have anything left to live for, nothing left to lose. You won’t escape me in death Annabelle, so live. Live for both of us.”
Annabelle frowned, struggling to open her eyes and look at Nefarion. That was Nefarion’s voice, but she’d never heard it so frantic before. She had seen him singlehandedly take down more than a couple dozen Scourge without breaking a sweat or showing even a hint of fear. But that was fear in his voice. And finally, Annabelle realized she must be dying. Nathal and Nefarion were trying to save her, but her body was shutting down. Oh, my God, she thought, fear pulsing through her body. She wasn’t ready to die. She’d just found her soul mate, and had literally just gathered the courage to tell him how she felt about him, to accept him as her husband. She couldn’t die now, not after all this.
Finally, she got her eyes open, and saw the love of her life hovering over her head. He looked so panicked, so afraid. Annabelle was willing to wager everything she had, which was precious little but still her own, that Nefarion had never felt so much fear in his entire long life. If she didn’t feel like she’d been crushed under a car she might have been bemused, but it took every ounce of willpower she had just to get her eyes open to look at him.
“Yes, there you are my love, just focus on me. Don’t close your eyes, just keep those beautiful eyes locked on mine. Stay with me.”
“What…what’s wrong…with me?” Annabelle gasped out, her throat closing and opening in pained gasps.
“You’ve been poisoned, my love. You vomited a large portion of it, and Nathal is trying to clear it from your system, but what remains is trying to eat through your internal organs.”
Annabelle blinked, a little surprised he was being so brutally honest with her. She could have done without the mental images of vomiting and acid consuming her organs. But that certainly explained how she was feeling inside, like something was eating her alive, inside out.
“Who…who would…do that?” she asked, registering that both of her hands were locked in one of Nefarion’s. It was like he was trying to tether her to this world, to make sure she didn’t slip away from him.
“Don’t worry about that my love. The one responsible will pay, and pay dearly, for this crime. My men are already searching for him as we speak. They will hunt him down.”
Annabelle could almost feel sorry for whoever had done this, because clearly Nefarion had something very gruesome in mind for whoever it was. But she was doing all she could just to stay awake, and alive. And though she liked to think she had a generous, forgiving heart, she hadn’t cared when Nefarion had slaughtered her would-be rapists, and she wouldn’t feel sorry when the poisoner was brought to justice. If he was dumb enough to go against Nefarion, he would get what he deserved. For now, Annabelle concentrated on Nefarion and let the healers do their work. She had no intention of dying today, not when she had so much to look forward to now in the land of the living.
Chapter 21
Everything was working out as planned. The bottle of wine he’d slipped onto the trays for Nefarion’s tent had been successfully delivered. Keepers were fools to think that such an effective weapon was dishonorable. Poison was even now eating through Nefarion’s mate, and it was completely untraceable back to him. And better still, he’d seen all the healers, including Nathal, scurry to Nefarion’s tent to attempt to save her puny human life. That left Mithrain in the healer’s tent, all alone.
Still, he couldn’t linger over this. Mithrain had to die, and before he regained consciousness. If he woke and squealed to Helion, everything he’d worked towards infiltrating this camp would be for nothing, and he’d meet a gruesome end as well. The entire situation was his fault, and that sat poorly on his shoulders. If only he had made sure Mithrain died the first time. He should have knifed him a few more times instead of leaving Mithrain somewhere to bleed out slowly from is injuries. He didn’t know how Mithrain had survived, no one did. But it was a giant inconvenience.
There was a lot of commotion around the camp, as more and more Keepers became aware that Nefarion’s mate had been poisoned. That left him plenty of room to blend into the crowd and make his way towards the healer tent. He ducked in swiftly, smirking in satisfaction as he noticed that it was empty save for Mithrain on one of the beds. There were no other injured Keepers who would need to die alongside Mithrain, which was lucky all around. Not that he would have minded taking out a few more of the over-privileged bastards, but he was in a time crunch.
Mithrain was looking quite peaceful today. Whoever had kept him alive had done a good job, the interfering bastard. That had been a killing blow he’d delivered to Mithrain, but here he was, alive and recovering. But not for long. He debated for a moment, but the quickest, surest way to end this was a quick knife to the throat. He quickly crossed over to the bed and drew his knife. He’d just lifted his knife to make the cut when he felt the breeze coming through the tent flap. For a moment, he considered slicing Mithrain’s throat anyway, he was poised and ready. But now…now the biggest threat in the room was behind him, and one did not ignore Helion, crown prince of the Light Keepers.
“You’ve been quite foolish today, Tolvein,” Helion said, his voice arctic in its frigidity.
“With the biggest risks come the biggest rewards, Commander,” Tolvein sneered as he turned. Helion was not alone either. There were several enraged Shadow Keepers wi
th him, as well as members of Helion’s personal guard. Not that they concerned him. Helion was the one to watch.
“And what rewards are you chasing, traitor? You colluded with a Scourge regiment to stage a surprise attack on our war camp. You attempted to take a fellow Keeper’s life. You orchestrated an attack on my mate, and now on Nefarion’s mate. And here you are now, risking all for another chance to take out Mithrain. What do you have to gain by such betrayal? Keepers stand together. Though we are many races on Arthaneas, we have the same goals. Protect our world, protect its citizens, protect our women and children. What could the Scourge have possibly offered you to warrant such despicable actions?”
Tolvein gripped his knife hard, wishing he could dig the blade into Helion’s over-proud heart. Protect the women and children indeed. Nothing but Keeper arrogance in full display. He wasn’t going to make it out of this tent alive, but if he did, there were plentiful tortures that awaited him. He’d killed a Shadow Keeper’s mate, and attempted to take the life of Helion’s mate. For those two crimes alone he would be tortured and executed, and there were the other pesky charges of treason to content with. Ah, well. He’d always known this mission was risky, and fraught with peril.
“Money, Commander. What I had to gain was money. Your mate, and Nefarion’s, are nothing but silly human cows. Cows that shouldn’t be allowed to breed with Keeper stock. Honestly, I expected better from two princes of Arthaneas then to take two inferior humans as mates. You should be thanking me for ridding you of them, instead of trying to save their miserable lives.”
The aggression in the room amped up to critical levels then, Nefarion’s Shadow Keepers started to bleed black in their auras. Tolvein smirked at them, wanting to see them lose control. If they lost control it would take seconds to kill him, instead of days. Torture was an extremely unpleasant proposition he’d prefer to avoid. And between Helion and Nefarion, he had no doubt his torture would be merciless.