by Quinn Loftis
Chapter 6
“I want to give her the world. I want to fall at her feet and declare all the ways that I love her. I can’t. She deserves so much more than me. I should walk away; I should let her go. I can’t. I know how to kill a man eight different ways with my bare hands. I have power greater than any human can imagine. I lead an army more powerful than any other in existence, and yet I can’t walk away from a mere human girl. But then she isn’t just a human, she is my Chosen. She is mine and I refuse to give her up.” ~Triktapic
Trik pushed through the revolving glass door of the tall building that housed the realty company Lorsan had chosen to deal with. They had finally found land that would be compatible with the soil from their realm, soil that was needed in order to grow the Almare plants.
Lorsan had asked the realty company to find five hundred acres of the richest and deepest soil in the United States, and so they had—San Joaquin Valley, located in Southern California. The valley is among the richest soil in the world, perfect for what they needed. Very little of the land was actually for sale, but that did not deter Lorsan. When he set his eyes on something, there was nothing that could stand in his way. The agents had found some six hundred acres that was owned by a couple of winemakers, currently being used as a large vineyard. Lorsan had offered a sick amount of money and the owners had finally caved.
Trik stood in the quiet elevator, riding up to the fifteenth floor. He wore his human guise once again, allowing himself to be seen by humans. When the elevator opened a woman was standing, waiting for her turn to get on. She froze as he stepped out, her eyes filling with desire. He was used to the effect that he had on women and usually he would have toyed a bit with her, but he hardly noticed her as he passed. His heart was spoken for, his mind forever captivated by a single thought—Cassie.
He didn’t bother to stop at the reception desk, but walked right past her and opened the door to the realtor’s office. He stepped in and shut it behind him.
“Trik,” a disheveled man in his early forties stood, abruptly dumping the papers that had been in his lap into the floor. His cheeks were flushed, but not for any reason other than it was the way his skin was always colored, as if there was something in his life forever embarrassing him and he was convinced the world knew about it. He was going bald, and not gracefully so. His eyes appeared beady behind his thick, coke bottle glasses. His ears stuck out too far on his large head and his lips stayed in a puckered state as if he was sucking on a lemon.
The man wore a suit that looked as if it had been picked up off the floor and hastily thrown on. As he stepped around his desk, Trik noticed that his pants were an inch too short and he was wearing white socks with his brown, wrinkled suit. The man held his hand out to Trik. Though it was a human tradition to shake hands when meeting, Trik looked at the man’s hand and then back up into his beady eyes. When he realized that Trik had no intention of taking his offered hand, the man quickly dropped it to his side.
“Hello, Leon,” Trik said finally after having made the poor man twitch nervously under his scrutinizing stare. “I have come to sign the papers and finalize the sale.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Leon seemed to gather himself and rushed around his desk, searching through the mess. He finally found the papers he was looking for and handed them to Trik.
“Just sign wherever the lines are highlighted.” Leon told him as he held out a pen.
Trik reluctantly took the pen from the realtor, not bothering to hide his repulsion at having to touch it.
He quickly read through the documents and signed at the appropriate locations. He handed the papers back to Leon.
“So, are we done?” Trik asked.
“Yes, Lorsan has already transferred the money to the sellers. The land is now yours to take possession of,” Leon answered.
As Trik turned to leave and his hand reached for the door handle, Leon spoke again.
“You don’t seem like the vineyard owning type, Mr. Trik,” Leon said nervously. “Why did you want this land so badly, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Trik turned the door handle and pushed the door open. “I do mind you asking. Consider yourself warned,” he told the realtor. Trik turned towards him as he began to shut the door. Trik narrowed his eyes and let just a little of his power loose. “Do not dig into my business Leon, you will not like the results.”
Leon nodded and let out a small whining sound.
Trik smiled to himself as he left the office and then the building. He fed off the power he held over humans like Leon, so easily intimidated. His fear was a stench in the air, his seemingly meaningless existence a waste of air. He frowned at himself and his thoughts as he walked down the sidewalk and rounded a corner to a quieter street. For the first time he could ever remember, he was bothered by how he felt, how he enjoyed causing fear in another. For the first time, he felt guilt over his behavior and he knew why. The idea of Cassie seeing him act in such a way was repulsive. Knowing how disappointed and hurt she would be by his actions and words halted him in his tracks. How was he going to do this? How was he going to be who she needed and who his King needed? He turned and found that he was standing in front of a murky window, in a building that was empty and dark. He looked at his reflection, at the human guise he wore, and he was repulsed by what he saw.
He had planned to go back to Cassie but he couldn’t see her, not like this. So he headed for a place where he knew that he could lose himself.
He stepped out of one of the many mirrors in Sanctuary. The blaring music assaulted him and he let the darkness and pleasure wrap itself around him. He walked out onto the dance floor and two steps later felt a warm body press itself against his back. Firm arms wrapped around his neck. He knew who it was even before she whispered in his ear.
“Been a long time, lover. Where’ve you been hiding?” Ziana’s voice was a purr against his skin.
There was a time when that would have done something to him, but not anymore, and that pissed him off. With Ziana, he could be who and what he was. He didn’t have to change or fight his nature. With Ziana, he could give into the darkness. He lifted his arm and wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her around to stand in front of him. He didn’t like anyone at his back, especially her. She stepped closer so that their bodies were touching again.
Trik looked down into her yellow eyes. She was breathtakingly beautiful. A human male would fall and worship at her feet if only to receive a tiny morsel from her fingertips. She had a body made for sin and there was a time that Trik had given into that body.
She took his hands and placed them on her hips and he instinctively drew her closer. She pressed her lips to his neck. Just before he closed his eyes to try and enjoy the sensation, they met the piercing gaze of Syndra. If looks could torture, Trik would be writhing in pain in a puddle of his own blood. She made her way towards them as Trik continued to hold Ziana against him, her lips still moving against his neck.
Syndra’s eyes narrowed as she walked towards Trik. She had come to Sanctuary simply to observe him, to see if the dark assassin was changing his playboy ways since he had found his Chosen. Though she had originally planned to remain unseen, what she saw made her reveal her presence. She had to remind Triktapic that he was no longer a free elf, even if the other elves saw the Light Elf Queen in the dark elf Sanctuary.
As Syndra stepped up to him, her power rushed through the room as she took the dark she-elf by the hair and ripped her from Trik's grasp. The room came to a standstill and suddenly everyone but Trik, Ziana, and Syndra were on their knees. Syndra held a writhing Ziana in her hand, high enough that her feet did not touch the ground.
“You would defile yourself with this filth after you have found your Chosen?” Syndra’s words were knives across his skin.
Ziana stopped struggling instantly and glared at Trik.
Syndra turned to look at the she-elf. “That’s right you two-bit hussy, he is no longer his own. He b
elongs to another and has no business putting his hands on you.”
“He makes his own choices,” Ziana spat back.
Syndra, in a rare show of anger, threw Ziana across the room, not bothering a second glance at the crashing sound of her body hitting the wall. She turned back to Trik and once again settled that powerful gaze on him.
“What do you think it would do to her if she knew you held another in your arms?”
Trik didn’t answer. He knew what it would do. It would destroy the fragile relationship they had built in the short amount of time they had known each other.
“How do you think your Chosen would feel to know another woman’s lips had been on your neck? How do you think your Chosen would handle knowing that you CHOSE to hold another?” Syndra was yelling and the air whipped around her as she released her royal power.
“She doesn’t need to know,” Trik growled.
Syndra laughed and it was so angry that Trik wondered if had really come from the lips of a light elf.
“She has a right to know what or who her Sh'mai is doing.” Trik stepped back as if she had slapped him.
“A simple dance is not comparable to sharing one’s bed.” His lips tightened as he met the Light Queen’s eyes.
“And if it had been Cassie in another’s arms, with his lips pressed to her skin, his body pressed against hers?” Syndra knew she was playing with fire as she taunted the dark elf assassin, but she cared not. She had grown to like his Chosen and she found herself wanting to see Trik happy for once in his long life. She didn’t want the idiot to screw it up, and hopefully he hadn’t. But Syndra had every intention of telling Cassie what had transpired here. She had a right to know. She needed to know all the facts about Trik before she made a decision to commit to the dark elf, even if those facts were unbelievably painful.
Trik shook with rage as he pictured the words Syndra had spoken. Cassandra in the arms of another, possibly that idiot, Todd. He knew what he would do; he would kill him, and anyone who dared touch her.
Syndra saw the emotions flash across his face, saw him battling the anger.
“You know as well as I do that I am no good for her. She deserves someone who doesn’t have the blood of a thousand men on his hands,” he snarled at her.
“You are missing the point. It is not about what she deserves or about what you deserve. It is about what is. For whatever reason, the Forest Lords have given you a Chosen as pure as fresh fallen snow, untainted by mud, dirt, or the tracks of others. You have been given a gift and gifts are not always deserved, but they should always be accepted. It is not wise Triktapic to throw a gift back in the face of the Forest Lords.” Her words were left ringing in the air, and in a rush of wind, the Light Elf Queen was gone.
Trik had heard that the most powerful of elves could travel in their realm without mirrors, but hearing about it and seeing it happen before his eyes were two very different things. The room slowly began to return to life as the music started again and elves stood from their kneeling positions.
He turned to leave, no longer in the mood for the company of others. As he made his way through the crowd, his eyes met Ziana’s. She had already moved on and was swaying in the arms of another male. The look she gave him was full of contempt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.