by Bailey Dark
“What is it?” His brows furrow with concern.
But before I can speak, the doors at the opposite end of the hall slam open. They smash loudly against the walls, the sound echoing through the throne room. Fear courses through me as Maaz saunters into the room. She has a broom in her hand, a slight thing of pale wood. When she sees us on the throne, she grins broadly; a smile so wide it looks like a crocodile grinning at me. I shudder as she tosses her broom aside and stops at the foot of the dais.
“Hello, darling,” she says sweetly.
“Maaz,” Altair growls. He pushes me behind him protectively.
Her eyes glitter. “I’ve come to collect.”
“I’m afraid that you’re several hours too early, Maaz,” Altair snaps. “You grow so impatient just before the end. You’ve waited a thousand years, surely you can wait a few hours more.”
Maaz taps her chin, feigning thoughtfulness. “You always made such excellent points, Altair. Really, but I simply don’t see what another hour is to you. You’re dead anyway.”
“Not. Yet.” Altair stands taller.
Maaz sighs dramatically and turns her cold eyes on me. “I saw you at the ball. Sniffed out your Bloodbane blood a mile away.” She tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder. “If I had wanted to, I could have cut you down that night.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Aren’t I lucky.”
Maaz laughs, tossing her head back. Suddenly, her laughter falls silent and she snaps her head back towards me. A chill curls down my spine. “You think you’re funny. Do you know who I am?”
“Maaz,” I say stiffly. “Leader of the Bloodbane.”
“Of which you are one,” she snaps.
“Not yet,” I breathe.
She pauses, her head cocked to the side. “What did you say?”
“I am not a Bloodbane yet,” I say, louder this time.
Maaz purses her lips and falls into a more relaxed stance. She picks at her nails. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ve already lost, Altair. And I’ve won.”
Altair shakes his head as his hand reaches back to close over mine. “Not completely, Maaz.” He grins. “My heart belongs to another. Even in death, you can never have it.”
Maaz colors, her shoulders stiff. “As if I would want it, anymore. Now you’re weak,” she spits. “And I have no more time for you.”
I narrow my eyes at her words, suspicion tickling my mind. But Maaz puts a hand on her hip, surveying us. Altair releases my hand and clenches his own into fists at his sides. I can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves. But Maaz seems unbothered. Her eyes glitter.
“Altair,” I whisper as the realization hits me.
But it’s too late, Maaz flings the dagger that was strapped to her back at Altair. The metal sings as it tumbles through the air, silver and blinding. I scream, the sound shattering the silence. I hear Altair inhale sharply as he realizes what Maaz has done. His last breath.
My mind is a wash of memories of Altair and fear. I feel his warm body beneath my hands, his muscles tense and hard. I stumble forward, moving into the space he once occupied. I feel the cold first, cold right in my gut, like an icicle. The pain follows the cold after a moment, intense and washing through my entire body.
I look down at the silver dagger protruding from my belly. It’s so much smaller up close. I let out a ragged breath as I fall to my knees, the pain from the fall only secondary to the wound. I can hear Altair shouting beside me, but it feels so far away. Eyes wide, I search for him. He hovers over me, taking my shoulders in his arms as he lowers me to the ground.
Blood coats his hands as he tentatively touches the wound. I shake my head as stinging pain shoots through me. “Verity,” he whispers, his voice finally reaching me. “Gods, Verity.”
“Altair,” I gasp.
His voice cracks. “Verity, why? Oh, Gods.”
“How sad.” Maaz pouts. “I was looking forward to bringing her into the fold.”
“You,” Altair whispers. His shoulders quake and his hazel eyes flash furiously. “I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you.”
“Altair,” I rasp. He turns back to me, his eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t talk, I can fix this,” Altair murmurs, lifting a trembling hand to my forehead.
I can feel my own blood smear across my forehead as he gently strokes me. “Altair, I know what to do,” I breathe. The pain is almost overwhelming. “I know how to save you.”
“Hush,” he says gently. “It’s over now. You don’t have to try anymore.”
“No.” I shake my head, wincing. “I, Verity Chastain, bind my life to yours. I will give you all of me. I will make my vows to you instead of the Dark God.”
As I say the words that have echoed through my mind since the librarian disappeared, I can feel my blood singing through my veins. Altair’s eyes widen, his lips parted in surprise. I offer him a smile, but I know it looks more like a grimace. From the dais, I can see Maaz’s face go pale, and I know that I’ve won.
I wheeze as more blood pours from the wound, drenching my tunic and spilling over the marble floor. “Did it work?”
Altair presses his lips to my bloodied forehead. “It will. For I will bind myself to you, Verity Chastain. I accept your covenant.”
As he says the words, a gust of wind bursts from the dais, breezing powerfully through the throne room and beyond. I sigh and fall back to the marble floor, eyes heavy with fatigue. I’ve done it. We’ve done it. Happiness swells in my chest for a single instant before I remember suddenly that death is near.
“How dare you?” Maaz shrieks. “It doesn’t matter if she’s broken the curse. I’ll still kill you and claim what’s mine.”
Altair rises slowly to his feet, his expression cold and cruel. A shiver slips through me at the sight. He turns to Maaz, flexing his hands. “It isn’t yours.”
Chapter 21
Altair
Verity’s blood coats my hands and stains my leather boots. She’s bleeding out quickly and will die soon if I can’t help her. The dagger still juts from her gut, but I know removing it will only make things worse. Her eyes are half-closed as she takes short and shallow breaths. The joy I felt when she swore to bind herself to me lasted only an instant before my rage towards Maaz pushed it aside. There will be time to celebrate later.
“My soldiers are coming,” I murmur. “They will have felt the curse lift.”
I turn to Maaz, my eyes blazing with fury. She sweeps her cloak back, exposing more daggers sheathed at her waist, though I know she’ll use her magic against me as well. Her beautiful face is twisted into a gruesome grimace, her slender figure trembling.
“Get out, Maaz,” I snarl. “Before I rip you apart with my bare hands and feed you to my hounds.”
“Never,” she sneers. “I’ve waited a thousand years for this.”
I step down from the dais slowly, my footsteps echoing in the massive, empty chamber. “Good. Now I can savor killing you.”
With a scream, she slings another silver dagger towards me. But I’m ready now. Quick as a cat, I snatch the blade from mid-air and toss it between my hands, chuckling softly. “I feel better than I have in years, Maaz. Stronger. Faster.”
“Cruento,” Maaz hisses, her fingers splayed towards me.
Thin, needle-like mirrors streak towards me, whistling through the air. I dart to the side, ducking just as one of the magical blade’s glides over my head. I right myself and turn towards Maaz, but she’s disappeared. The skin on the back of my neck tingles. I whirl around just as she swings a dagger at my throat, narrowly missing puncturing my jugular.
I lunge towards her, blade twisting in my hand as I slash at her. She jumps back, her cloak and heavy skirts rustling. With a snarl, she thrusts the long dagger towards my gut. I roll to the side, sweeping my blade out to nick her in the ribs. She gasps sharply, glowering. I prowl around her as she touches a finger to the wound, bleeding lightly. Blood coats her pale finger and I grin. Maaz lifts
her finger to her lips, her tongue darting out to lick the blood from her skin.
My brows furrow with disgust as she smiles cruelly. “Sicaòr,” she whispers.
A gust of wind blows through the throne room, it carries a sickly-sweet stench. When the breeze brushes my cheeks, I feel a stinging pain as it peels the skin from my face, layer by layer. Hissing, I dart towards her, blade angled for her chest. She spins away, laughing. But I anticipated this. I tangle my fingers through her hair, dragging her backwards.
Maaz cries out as I tear at her hair. She struggles against me, ripping bits of her scalp. Blood stains her roots as she releases a shrill scream. I yank her towards me, my blade poised to fall over her exposed chest.
“I will relish killing you,” I murmur, eyes glimmering.
My blade plummets towards her. In a blur of motion, her hand rises to fend off the blow and with a sickening squelch, the blade slips through her palm. She snarls and my eyes widen as she forces her palm upwards, forcing the dagger through completely. Maaz pushes me back, her slender arms surprisingly strong.
Blood drains from the wound, streams of it coating her wrist and running down her forearms. Scowling, I wrench the dagger free of her palm, blood arcing through the air. I whirl as she cradles her wounded palm to her chest. Her pale blue eyes narrow coldly.
“I’ll remember this,” she growls.
I twirl the blade in my hand, spinning it between my fingers. “You won’t remember anything.”
Without warning, I fling the dagger towards her, straight between her eyes. Maaz raises her injured hand, her bloodied palm facing me. Wordlessly, she stops the dagger in mid-air. I glower as she shatters the blade into tiny, dust-sized fragments.
She smirks, her eyes following the particles as they float away. I’m on top of her before she knows it, my shoulders slamming into her chest. She topples backwards onto her back. I straddle her waist, my hands wrapping around her slim throat. I can feel her blood pulsing beneath my grip. She takes a ragged breath and claws at my face, her nails drawing blood.
I growl, squeezing tighter. Maaz’s face goes blue, her eyes bulging. A drop of my blood trickles from my chin and splatters on her cheek, stark against the pale porcelain of her skin. She trembles, her clawing growing weaker and weaker. I grin ferally, eyes gleaming.
Suddenly, I’m blown backwards by a violent burst of energy. I somersault through the air, knees bouncing painfully off the floor. Swiftly, I roll into a crouch, fists bared for an attack. Maaz clambers to her feet, a hand at her throat. She wheezes, her shoulder shaking. She’s spent, I realize with a smirk.
“This isn’t over,” she rasps, a hand on her deadwood broom. “It’s far from over. Your day of reckoning will come.”
Before I can respond or leap to my feet to chase her, she’s mounted her broom and launched herself through one of the stained-glass windows in the throne room. Glass shatters, tinkling like bells as it strikes the marble floor. All that’s left of Maaz is her blood pooling on the floor. I pant, staring at the shattered window.
“Altair,” Verity whispers behind me.
My blood runs cold as I pivot and sprint towards her. I cover the distance in two long strides, skidding to my knees beside her. She’s paler than before, as white as paper. Even her rosy lips have lost their color. I grind my teeth, finding her hand blindly and clutching it. She squeezes my hand, so lightly I hardly feel it.
“The healers are coming,” I murmur, brushing her light brown hair back.
“It’s too late,” she says softly, pinching her face.
“Not for us.” I force a reassuring smile. “I’m taking the dagger out. It will hurt.”
She chuckles breathlessly. “I don’t feel anything anymore.”
“Good.” I nod.
I pray that she forgives me. Without warning, I wrench the silver blade from her belly, blood spurting from the wound. She cries out sharply, her face twisted in pain. I drop the blade and press my hands to the wound. Her warm blood slips through my fingers.
I hear shouting in the distance, my soldiers returning from Desmarais. The door slams open and Navi runs through, her eyes wide. I turn to her and grimace. “She’s dying,” I say, voice cracking.
Navi’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the scene, before she closes the distance between us. She tears off the sash at her waist and shoves me aside. Her sash is soon wet with blood, but the flow seems to be ebbing. Whether from her efforts or because Verity is almost dead, I don’t know.
“Soldiers were right behind me, there will be healers among them,” she says confidently.
The chattering grows louder, followed by thumping footsteps. In an instant, the throne room is flooded with soldiers. One of them kneels beside us, studying Verity’s wounds. I watch, breath coming in short gasps, as he lifts the sash.
“Can she be saved?” I ask. My fingers wrap around Verity’s ankle. I need to touch her, to feel her.
“Perhaps,” he murmurs. “You must go, I need more healers.”
“I won’t,” I snap. “I stay with her.”
The healer turns his brown eyes to me. “Go, my King.”
“How dare you,” I hiss, leaning towards him threateningly.
Navi’s hand closes around my arm and she drags me to my feet. I slap her hand away, trembling. She looks at me with disinterest. “Let the healers work. You won’t help if you hover over her.”
I inhale sharply, trying to control my breathing. “I know. I know,” I say shakily. I turn to the healer. “Do whatever you must. Anything.”
He nods seriously and then focuses on Verity as a cluster of healers join him. I glance back once more as Navi leads me from the dais. Verity is unconscious, her chest rising and falling shallowly. I pray to the gods for the first time in a thousand years. I pray that Verity will live.
Navi ushers me towards the broken window. “What happened here?” She asks, hand on the hilt of her sword.
“Maaz came to collect early,” I say stiffly, staring towards the healers gathered around Verity’s prone form. “When Verity broke the curse, she attacked me. Verity pushed me aside. I tried to stop her, but she escaped.”
Navi looses a long breath. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I failed in my duty.”
“Nonsense,” I murmur. “We each prepared ourselves differently for the end. I don’t fault you for that.”
“And the curse is broken,” Navi says softly, following my gaze towards Verity. “How did she do it?”
“Just as Maaz required. She offered to bind herself to me, to covenant with me instead of Sadal Melik. She will never be his bride.” I press my lips into a thin line. “Though I’m not entirely sure she knew what she was doing.”
Navi peers up at the shattered window. “There will be time to explain when she’s recovered. When the kingdom recovers.”
“I want all the border patrols strengthened, men stationed at every tower,” I say.
“Of course, Altair.” Navi dips her chin sharply.
I meet her emerald gaze. “Maaz will be back. She’s lived for an eternity, a small hiccup in her plans won’t drive her away for long.”
“And we’ll be ready for her,” Navi says firmly. “This time.”
“I pray we are,” I whisper.
I watch, eyes sorrowful, as the healers maneuver Verity onto a stretcher and lift her gently. Her soft groan echoes through the throne room and my brows furrow at the sound. Pain lances through my heart as I picture the moment she saved me from Maaz’s blade. It’s my fault she was so close to death. Guilt mingles with sorrow, coiling like ice in my heart. She disappears from view as the healers carry her into the hallway.
I turn back to the window. Maaz’s blood stains the remaining shards. A wild and dangerous grin splits my lips. Maaz won’t be long for this world. Not when I’ve been restored to my power and have every motive for revenge.
Maaz will feel my wrath soon.
And I’ll make sure that it will hurt.
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About the Author
Bailey Dark is obsessed with all things dark, hot, and supernatural. From Fae to Aliens, her heroes are thoroughly alpha and pure raw masculinity. When she’s not writing (which is hardly ever) she’s busy watching every movie in the marvel universe, or binging supernatural on her couch. So come along, and enter her dark world. . . .
https://www.baileydarkromance.com/
Also by Bailey Dark
The Beast King’s Bride - Warlords of Farian Book 1
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Chapter One
Daphne
“Mm-hmm,” Vania said through a mouthful of avocado toast, crumbs tumbling to the tabletop. I rolled my eyes at my best friend. “That would turn me on, too.”
“Oh, gawd, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t saying seeing him beat the shit out of Rhone would rev me up. I just meant—”
“Oh, you just meant you would melt in his arms and do anything he wanted after he bashed your boss’s face in. And, I mean, anything, Daphne…” Vania grinned and flicked a baby carrot at me. I caught it deftly and popped it in my mouth. I slowly grinned as a slight breeze from the courtyard garden ruffled my blonde hair. My best friend’s brown curls were a bit messy from the debauchery of the night before…she had made that walk of shame all the way to work on time.
“All right, maybe I would be a little more willing to explore, if he was, you know, detail-oriented…” We giggled. I sighed. “It’s just been so hard. Rhone is incredibly difficult. I had to stay at work late every day the last two weeks, and I am still running behind on the deadline for the Flores account.”