by Eve Langlais
“How is it weakness when we complement each other?”
Erela’s lips pressed into a line. “That was before.”
“It can happen again.”
“No. It can’t.” She shook her head. “You still don’t see it, do you? You don’t understand. I can’t love you. I can’t love anyone. Mammon and the tribunal took that from me.”
“Take it back.”
“I wish I could.” A sharp pain hit him in the chest at the sight of her unshed tears.
“I refuse to believe you are that broken. The Erela I knew was a fighter.”
“The Erela you knew died over and over again.”
The anguish in her brought out the rage in him. “We were betrayed.”
“By your brother.” Her lip curled. “I know.”
“He was the instrument of your torture, but I highly doubt he managed to discover our subterfuge on his own.” Mammon never was as bright as he thought. If he knew about Desmond and Erela, it was because someone else told him.
“Trying to lay the blame on someone else? I guess I should have expected as much from your kind.” Spoken with a sneer.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You. A Dark Lord. Always shifting the blame onto others. You admitted it yourself. You thought I’d betrayed you.”
“Because I was lied to.”
“Because you never really tried to discover the truth,” Erela shouted, anger blazing from every pore.
And there it was, that guilt Desmond had suffered since discovering that she lived. Erela had a right to her anger, to her feelings of betrayal. He’d not looked hard enough. Never suspected treachery from his half-brother, but he’d been all too ready to believe that she, the one person who loved him, would abandon him without a word.
But there was a flaw in her argument.
“Neither did you!” he roared back. “You believed my brother when he said I knew and condoned his actions.”
“How could you not know?” she whispered. “How?” Her voice broke, and he heard the unsaid words.
Didn’t he love her enough to know she cried for him?
“I am sorrier than you can imagine that I didn’t listen harder. That I didn’t see past the conspiracy against us.”
“You were conspired against. I was tortured. Cast from my home. Made to forget who and what I am. Even now, there are holes. Fragments missing.” Her gaze took on a haunted cast. “Who I am is shattered.”
“I can help you remember.”
“I don’t want your help. Not now. Not ever.” She strode past him, and he reached for her, grabbed her arm to spin her around.
“Why must you be so stubborn?”
Her violet gaze met his, and for a moment, he saw the trembling vulnerability in them before the shield slammed down.
But he didn’t want her to shut him out. He needed her to remember. To desire it again.
So, he kissed her. Dragged her close and pressed his mouth to hers with one wish: Remember.
For a moment, she softened. Then, her lips parted. The flame that had died stuttered to life.
With a cry of anguish, she tore free. “Leave me alone.”
“I can’t.” The truth. Desmond would atone. He would win her back.
“If you knew what was done…” Erela’s voice trailed off.
“Do you think me so shallow that I would blame you?”
Her haunted expression said it all.
His jaw tightened. “Is that why you push me away? Because you think I would love you less?”
“I’m tainted.”
“We all carry burdens. Things we’re ashamed of.” He had his fair share of moments that he preferred to ignore.
“You think I’m ashamed?” A bitter laugh emerged from her. “I know I had no choice. But if you saw what Mammon did…you would never touch me again.”
“So it’s fear holding you back? Fear that I’m not worthy. Shouldn’t I get a chance, though? Show me. Let me prove my love. Let me share the pain with you.”
“You want to see? Feel?” Her face twisted. “Maybe then you’ll understand.” Erela reached for him. “Welcome to my nightmare.”
Desmond thought he was ready for it. He’d tortured before. Been on the receiving end a few times, too.
But what Erela had experienced... She didn’t just show him, he felt it. Felt every brutal blow and tearing penetration. Heard the taunts and the cries. Cries for Desmond to save her.
Felt her despair when he didn’t come.
He lived her nightmare, every bloody moment of it. And when it ended—
But that’s just it. It didn’t quit. It started over and over again until he awoke, gasping and hurting in a way that no wound could ever come close to. His heart bled. His emotions felt trampled.
Now, he understood. Understood why Erela feared to let him close again.
It wasn’t the rape keeping her away. It was trust. She feared that Desmond would push her away in disgust. But worse than that, she didn’t trust him to save her if it happened again.
That roused his rage. It bubbled inside, demanding an outlet.
Mammon was dead. His father was in prison. But they were but pawns in a deadly plot to hurt his Erela.
The tribunal had had a hand in it. Those faceless beings who were the ones charged with keeping the worlds balanced and following the rules they set.
Except he knew one of the faces under those robes. One of those who had dared hurt his arammu.
Time to pay someone a visit.
Chapter Fifteen
Waking, Erela stared at the stone ceiling and, for a brief moment, her mind was blank.
Then it yelled at her.
Why did I show him?
She didn’t want his pity. Nor did she need his understanding.
Then what is it I’m looking for? She had Titus and Logan ready to support her. Love her if she allowed it. She’d found her courage. Remembered most of her past.
So why did thoughts of Desmond plague her? Why did seeing him bring a longing for…for what? She couldn’t have a happily ever after. And now that she’d made him understand, never would.
Desmond had seen the depravity and would no longer want her. Damaged. Forsaken. She would bring him nothing but trouble and misery.
At least when he shunned her and refused to meet her gaze, she’d finally put those lingering feelings to rest. Shutter the last drop of hope that just refused to die.
Looking around, she took in the details of her room—a rather mundane space. It was the first time she’d truly partaken of a Dark Lord’s hospitality—if she ignored her stay with Mammon in his dungeon.
The castle, made of stone on the outside, sported plastered walls inside, in this room at least. They were painted a light blue that matched part of the pattern in the large rug that covered most of the floor. The bed, carved of bone—aged to the color of ivory—had four posters and was draped with curtains, which she’d left open. Being enclosed didn’t sit well with her yet.
The duvet proved thick and yet light. The material soft and fresh-smelling dispelling every single whisper Erela had heard of Ha’el and its Ifrit lords. They weren’t savages or unclean beasts. They were men and women, just like any Babylonian. With demons to serve them.
Which begged the question, how had the Ifrits gained dominion over the crude creatures?
A brisk knock at her door had her tugging the sheets close before replying, “Who is it?”
Rather than give answer, the door swung open and Logan dashed in, his jaw sporting a fine down of dark hair, followed by Titus, whose golden locks glinted.
It took her a moment. She blinked at the light streaming through the window and then at the vampire before she blurted, “You’re not burning.”
At the remark, Titus beamed. “The sun here is different. Safe.”
“How did you find out?” Because she highly doubted that he suddenly decided to walk outside to find out.
“A servant told me. App
arently, I’m not the first vampire to visit. Most choose to stay because we don’t need to hide in shadows.” Titus strode to the window and lifted his face to the bright illumination, his eyes closed as he basked in it.
“That’s wonderful.” It truly was because she knew Titus regretted his inability to walk in the sun.
“It is, but not why we’re here so bright and early,” Titus remarked, turning from the window.
“We’re going on a trip,” Logan crowed with barely concealed excitement.
“We are? Where? Did we get permission to visit the king?” Desmond had sent a secretive missive to her adoptive father when they arrived, asking for an audience. She’d requested that Desmond keep news of her existence secret. It wouldn’t do to tip off her enemies that she’d returned. Let them discover it when she held the tip of her sword to their necks.
“No word yet from your king.” Titus spread his hands. “Keep in mind, we’ve been here less than a day and, given the subterfuge required, the request might take time to reach him.”
They couldn’t simply dial a mirror and say hello. Still, the wait chafed. How her adoptive father must worry about her.
Does he? She didn’t let herself ponder his possible reaction to her Forsaken status.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To visit a guy. An Ifrit that Desmond thinks might have information on the tribunal.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it,” Logan barked. “Your genie boyfriend thinks he might know who the guy was in the prison that healed you for Mammon.”
For a moment, Erela froze, the vision of the hand reaching, the callousness when she begged as he ignored her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the dip of the mattress as Logan—whose spicy scent betrayed him—sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come now, mouse, no hiding.”
Her eyes flashed open. “Not hiding, just taking a moment to channel my rage.” A smile split her lips. “Is he sure?” A stupid question. Desmond had shared her memories. Saw and knew everything she did about her time in that prison. While she didn’t recognize the male in the cloak, apparently, Desmond did.
“As sure as he can be until we question this person.” Titus had his hands shoved into his pockets, making no attempt to comfort her like Logan. She couldn’t discern if it bothered her or not.
“Name?” she asked.
At the query, Titus shrugged. “No idea. Just like I’m not sure why Desmond asked us to come along.”
“Because we are to be his hidden advantage.” If this person were involved, then they’d know the moment he set eyes on Erela. Finally, a lead. She flung back the covers. “When do we leave?”
“Slow down. Food first. Desmond says it’s a trip of two days by…” Logan paused and looked at Titus.
“Night-mare,” the vampire finished. “And not the kind that happens when you sleep. It is a horse—"
“That’s like calling a dragon a lizard.” She snorted. Her expression brightened as she recalled the night-mare her king had had when she was young. An older stallion who caused sparks when he stamped his hoof and huffed smoke from his nostrils. The wild thing had never allowed anyone to come near it. Except for her.
She’d brought it treats on more than one occasion, and in return, he allowed her to brush his inky mane. The king had traded him not long after for a white mare with a small nub on her forehead. A unicorn by-blow who loved everyone. Which took the fun out of it.
The night-mares were creatures best suited for Ha’el, able to travel vast distances and at great speeds with little care. But only if you treated them well. Night-mares were known to be particular about their owners.
It didn’t take long to get fed and dressed, the borrowed clothing familiar and yet confining compared to the scantier outfits of Earth.
She eschewed the skirt that came along with the blouse and tunic in favor of the black breeches that molded to her skin, the leather buttery-soft. The entire outfit was one color only, and she noticed the same of Titus and Logan.
Desmond had dressed them in his house colors, as if they were nobles. Yet she wasn’t noble. Far from it.
Entering the castle courtyard, a tall and gangly Ifrit pointed the way to the stables where Desmond awaited, talking intently to someone before turning to face them.
The Dark Lord’s face showed nothing. No hint of the emotion he’d displayed in her dream. Nary a sign of softness even when he looked at her. His eyes were icy chips, and his expression was grim to match it.
“Can you all ride?”
She almost rolled her eyes until Logan said, “Nope. I’ll run on my own four feet, thank you.”
“We’ll be moving too fast for that. What of you?” Desmond turned his attention to Titus.
“At least a century since I’ve sat on a steed.”
Desmond made a sound, the disparagement clear.
She jumped to their defense. “There are better methods of travel on Earth.”
“Polluting mechanical monsters. I am aware and don’t think it’s an improvement.”
“Says the old guy,” muttered Logan under his breath.
If Desmond heard, he gave no sign. He pivoted and barked orders. “Have the carriage prepped along with my stallion.”
“I’ll need a horse, too.”
For the first time since encountering her, Desmond’s gaze brushed Erela’s. “You’ll ride in the carriage.” When she would have protested, he snapped, “The less people who see you on the road, the better.”
Good point. Bad enough Erela had been seen at Desmond’s castle. Once word got around, the attacks that plagued her on Earth might resume.
Still, it irritated that she had to sit inside the confines of a carriage. At least she didn’t suffer alone. Titus shared the space with her, as did Logan on the stretches where they could make good time.
The landscape whipped by the window, a mixture of barren plains and then dense forests, damp and ripe with life.
Those were the times Logan joined Desmond outside, his four-legged wolf surefooted amongst the trees, an extra pair of eyes and ears watching for danger.
When the forest road widened, Desmond kept pace alongside the carriage, and she did her best not to look at him, but he didn’t make it easy. He cantered atop his steed, a dark lord in his element, his cape streaming behind him, his powerful thighs gripping the sides of the night-mare, his hands wrapped around the reins.
He cut a fine enough figure that he stirred something within her that wasn’t revulsion. She knew the heat between her thighs for what it was.
Desire.
Something she didn’t want to feel. It reminded her of the kiss. A dream kiss, and yet one that awakened sensations she’d thought forever lost. Judging by Desmond’s behavior this morning, though, it wouldn’t happen again.
What she’d feared had come to pass. He wanted nothing to do with her tainted flesh.
It hurt. But not as much as it might have if Erela had allowed herself to fall in love again.
She glanced past him and spotted Logan, his eyes glowing a bright green, his furry body keeping pace with the stallion.
She wished she rode with them, feeling the air on her skin, the joy of a powerful mount between her legs.
Much as it galled to admit, Desmond had been right when he claimed her appearance might draw attention. However, surely, they could make an exception here in the woods?
A rustle beside her reminded her that she didn’t sit alone. She couldn’t exactly abandon Titus. She sighed.
He took note. “You want to be out there with them.”
“Yes.” No point denying it. “I used to love riding.”
“And you will ride again.”
“Perhaps.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I didn’t see many horses on Earth.”
“Arrangements can be made if you return. Is that your plan once you’ve accomplished your goal here?”
A good question. It depended on a few factors. “I don’t kn
ow.”
“I do. You’re not going back to Earth.” Titus stared at her. “You feel comfortable here.”
A strange thing to say given she was in literal Hell. And yet, true. “There is something stark and real about this place.” Not to mention she could feel the power all around her. Almost a physical thing she could grab from the air. Was it magic, or something else? The only person she could ask was the person she kept stubbornly rejecting. What if Desmond managed to look past her abuse and still wanted her?
Would it be so bad if I gave in? She still remembered the nightmare of her torture, but now it wasn’t the only thing she recalled. Memories of pleasure had resurfaced. Pleasure with Desmond.
Yet if Erela gave in to Desmond, what of Logan and Titus? She cared for them, too. They wouldn’t understand if she chose Desmond over them.
“You’ve got that look again,” Titus remarked. “The one that says you’re torn about something.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Excuse me.”
She turned to face him. “From day one, you’ve been nothing but kind. Offered me your protection. A place in your home. Put yourself in danger.”
“Because I care for you.”
She waved a hand. “And I care for you. Just like I also care for Logan. And…” She took a breath and said it in a rush. “Desmond.” There, she’d said it. Admitted it finally, and nothing bad happened.
Yet. That could change if Erela told Desmond. If he even cared anymore.
“So, you care for three men. It happens.”
“I can’t be with you all.”
“Can’t you?” He arched a brow.
She frowned. “No. What you’re suggesting isn’t possible.” The very idea was ludicrous. She well remembered how all-consuming her love for Desmond was. Multiply it by three, and she’d expire. She’d never be able to balance it.
“It is possible. There are videos and books I can show you if you don’t believe me.”
Her cheeks flushed with heat. “I didn’t mean physically impossible just…” She struggled to find the words. “I don’t know if I can share myself with anyone, let alone two or three men. And let’s be honest, there is too much jealousy between you all for it to work.”