by Sara Page
“What happened to you?” I ask.
His lips thin once more and he doesn’t answer. I guess he’s done talking and is just going to ignore the question.
We reach the door to his room. Gently, he lowers me down to my feet. Then he reaches out, opening the door and motioning for me to enter before him.
Chin in the air, I gather up what dignity I have left and step into the room. He follows behind me, shutting the door behind us.
The room feels so much emptier and colder now that Warrick isn’t here, filling it with his massive presence.
“Do you truly want to know?” Vis asks sneaking up behind me, hand brushing against the small of my back.
I jump and spin around. I have to let my racing heart settle down before nodding my head. “Yes.”
He takes a step forward and I take a step back. “Warrick and I were… are… the best of friends.”
He moves forward, I move back. If he’s meaning to intimidate me, to push me out of my comfort zone, he’s doing a good job of it.
“We did everything together, we were inseparable. Constant companions. When I felt my Calling it was only natural that he accompanied me.”
I cast a glance over my shoulder, he’s chasing me towards the bed.
“I’m not sure if it was because of the two of us appearing together… perhaps we overly intimidated her, or if I was… I am… lacking in some way, but we traveled across the galaxy to meet her and she refused me on the spot. There was no chance to prove my worthiness, to show her the kind of man I am. It was instant and vehement rejection.”
My knees hit the back of the bed and my heart flutters with panic.
“It was my worst nightmare manifesting. I’ve never felt such despair before. Such worthlessness.”
Stepping up to me, almost into me, his hand lifts, his fingers extending as if he’s going to touch my cheek. But perhaps something in my eyes gives me away, or perhaps the thundering of my heart is so loud he can hear it. His fingers curl up and clench into a fist. He yanks his hand back and turns from me.
“I had no purpose. I was ready for the end.”
Why did he pull away?
If he was Striker, I’d be on the bed, beneath him.
“Then a new Calling reached out to me. The darkness drew me in, leading me to the pit.”
I gasp in surprise and without thought, I step forward, reach out and place my hand against back. “The pit? The same one the King just put Warrick in?”
“Yes,” he confirms grimly. “The very same pit.”
“Why? How?”
“I don’t know why or how,” he answers, shaking his head. “I only know that it is common for those who are rejected to travel here, to use the pit as a means to our end.”
Just knowing Warrick is there right now, suffering for his so-called insolence makes me want to weep with helpless frustration. I could have accepted him, I could have, yet what if it only made things worse for him?
“Warrick followed me. He begged and pleaded, tried to bring me to reason. But I was broken in a way that can’t be fixed.”
Slowly turning around, he grabs my hand that I forgot was still touching him and stares down at it in amazement—like he can’t believe it exists. “But King Zar had found the pit before me, and had taken control of it.”
“He controls the pit?” I ask and fight the urge to yank my hand back.
I can’t even imagine what he went through, what any of them went through. The rejected… The damned. I pity him yet I also fear him. He’s an unknown, a wild card. I can only guess at his intentions.
He turns my hand over as if he’s memorizing every detail about it. Then the tip of his finger gently traces the lines of my palm.
“Yes, he feeds it so he can control it. The palace was being erected when Warrick and I first arrived, and after meeting with the King and gazing upon the pit, I felt the Call, the tug inside of me… changing. I suppose in a way he found a way to feed the pit inside me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering, fearing that the tug he’s describing is the same pull I’ve been experiencing.
“The emptiness inside me, the bleak despair was fed with anger. Anger grew to hate. Hate gave me purpose.”
“Does it still?”
He looks up from my hand. “No. Not since Warrick fell in.”
“He fell in?!”
Vis suddenly yanks me forward, sending me crashing into his chest. Before I can pull back, his hands grab me roughly by the face and forces me to look at him. “Yes, he fell in. I don’t know how it happened… I can’t seem to remember. All I know is that one moment I was securing a prisoner and the next he was gone.”
His mouth presses against mine in a hard kiss. I try to endure it but it’s so forceful, so surprising, I cry out and with a groan he jerks back. Panting, his eyes burn into my eyes, sparks of anger and embers of desire warring, creating a maelstrom of confusion. And yet he continues to tell his story, as if now he’s come this far he can’t stop. He can’t go back.
“He stuck around. If he couldn’t save me, couldn’t convince me to leave, then he wanted to remain by my side. He wanted to protect me. After all… I was all that he had left.”
My eyes feel swollen with tears and I struggle to hold them back.
“The King reached into the pit but he couldn’t find him. Or so he claimed. Months passed and I gave up hope of ever seeing him again. I actually started to wish with all my heart that he was dead. I failed him. I doomed him. I raged and feared that he could be suffering when I was the one who deserved to be punished. Warrick’s only mistake was being my friend.”
Vis pauses, taking a deep, shuddering breath before he continues. “And then one day there was this roar… the King reached in and he found Warrick. He pulled him out but he was so disturbed, so disgusted by what he saw, he almost tossed him back.”
“Why didn’t he?” I ask, feeling a tear slip down my cheek, unbidden. I’m not entirely sure who I’m crying for. Warrick? Vis? All of us?
“Warrick could only speak one word. It was the last word he spoke before he started repeating mine.” Vis looks at me as if he’s finally seeing me and his hands fall away. My cheeks throb, the line of my jaw aches from where his grip bit into it.
“Forgive me, princess. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” He takes a step back, then another. “I can’t quite decide if I want to kiss you or...” With a groan, he stumbles away from me.
“Vis,” I choke out and take a step forward, reaching for him.
He shakes his head back and forth, sharply, and his steps quicken. “I’m sorry, I should go. This was a mistake.”
“Please, Vis,” I plead and follow him, chasing him to the door. I don’t know why but I feel this incredible pain for him, this almost suffocating tightness in my chest. There have been too many wrongs made here, and I’m not arrogant enough to believe I can fix all of them, but maybe, just maybe I can right one of them.
“I really must go,” he yanks open the door.
“Don’t,” I cry out and he hesitates before stepping through it. We stare at each other and from the desperate look in his eyes I know he’ll stay; he only requires that I ask it.
I want him to stay but not in that way… but how can I push away someone who has been so forsaken?
Licking my lips nervously, I feel the weight, the burn of his attention. The flicker of hope that perhaps this could be an invitation.
“At least tell me the word before you go,” I ask, leaving no question of his impending exit.
“Isn’t obvious?” he asks with that tortured laugh and turns away from me. “It was Ameia.”
The door slams behind him.
Chapter Thirteen
I’m alone for the first time in weeks, and I hate every second of it.
I stand for the longest time, staring at the door. Expecting it to open. I can’t remember the last time I was left alone for so long. The door slammed behind Vis minutes ago, yet I can still feel the
bang resonating. There was such finality to it.
Is he coming back? Has he left me vulnerable without him? Do I even want him to return?
He was telling the truth about his past, I don’t doubt it. He is a reject, doomed to never find his purpose. Yet he clearly desires me in some way. Unfortunately, I’m not his Calling, I have nothing to offer him.
Even if I wanted to I can’t fix him.
But I can still save Warrick. If he can help me escape this place, I’ll accept him. It feels so cold, so calculated, though—extremely heartless. Especially now, knowing all that has happened to him.
I approach the door, reach out and try the handle.
Locked.
What other choice do I have? To just wait? To bide my time? To raise my children here? To let King Zar influence them—raise them. Or worse, take them?
I examine the door, searching for a way to open it. There’s not a lock to be seen, nor a button or a touch pad. There’s a distinct lack of technology in this place. I can’t help but wonder the reason.
This place just feels like it’s sucking out all the joy out of me. Leaching away all my hope, all the happiness I had inside me.
Leaving only emptiness as a replacement.
Something inside me is cracking…breaking. There’s this hollow ache that is throbbing incessantly. I want to cry; I want to scream. I want to do something.
I just don’t have the energy to do it.
I miss Beast and Striker. I need them. Without them I’m just fading away… a ghost of myself. Or worse, a shadow…
Turning from the door, I drift towards the bathroom and try to wash the memory of the Devourer’s touch from my flesh. It’s no use, I will forever be haunted by the feeling of his shadows sliding against my skin.
They touched me, they explored me.
Their wispy little fingers slipped into all my hidden places, searching out my secrets.
I gag, suddenly remembering the taste of the meat upon my lips. I’d purge myself but I know the babies need the sustenance.
Me, I feel like I could survive on nothing but air.
Wrapping myself up in a towel, I step out of the bathroom and search through Vis’ things, searching for something to sleep in. His personal belongings are sparse, only the essential basics. No objects of a personal nature, no keepsakes or sentimental pieces to give me a clue about him. Shirts, pants and socks. That’s it.
I choose one of his clean shirts, pull it over my head and immediately regret it. There’s just something about wearing it that feels far too intimate—like I’m wearing a piece of him.
But it’s either this or sleep naked.
The shirt it is.
At least the shirt is big enough to fit me like a modest dress. It certainly covers me more than that so-called gown I was wearing tonight did.
Climbing into the bed, I crawl across it, seeking the middle of the mattress. Slipping beneath the covers, I try my best to get comfortable but it’s hard to do without a big purple arm wrapped around my waist or someone hard and warm pressing against my back.
Loneliness.
How can anyone stand this?
Cold. Empty.
Alone.
Without.
“Ameia?” The word is faint, as if the person who said it is afraid to say it.
My eyes struggle to open; I must have fallen asleep without realizing it. Groggily, I take stock of myself. I’m curled up in a ball with my legs tucked up against my chest and my arms wrapped around myself.
“Ameia?” My name is repeated.
Someone turned down the torches, I can’t see anything because the room is too dark.
“Yes?”
The bed dips, a weight sinking into the mattress. Someone is sitting beside me.
I hold my breath. Afraid of what might come next.
“May I hold you?”
I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t even expect him to return much less climb into bed. I expel the breath I was holding and don’t know how to answer.
“I promise I won’t do anything else. I can’t do anything else…”
Vis sounds so meek, so vulnerable. Perfectly harmless, if I’m fooling myself.
I’m only asking for trouble if I allow this, I know it. Yet, something about turning him away just feels wrong.
“Yes,” I finally answer, my own voice soft and groggy with sleepiness. “You may.”
There’s an immediate shuffling. The blankets pull back and then I’m pulled into two strong arms. I shiver as his warmth hits me and feel myself curl into it, seeking it out.
“Thank you,” Vis murmurs into my hair and hugs me close.
I fall back to sleep in the safety of his arms.
* * *
I wake up alone. Immediately I notice something is wrong.
Very wrong.
Shoving down the covers, I stare at my stomach. There’s this weird feeling, like bubbles and butterflies moving inside me. And my stomach looks twice as big as it should be through the shirt. I yank up my shirt and gasp just as Vis comes walking through the door.
“Ameia?” he asks and rushes over with sincere concern. He looks like he’s been up and dressed for some time, though he’s only wearing the bottom half of his armor.
I place my hands on my stomach and almost choke on a sob as I tell him, “Something is wrong with the babies.”
My stomach moves beneath my hands and I jerk back, crying out, “Oh, gods.”
“What is wrong?” Vis asks and brushes my hands out of the way to have a look.
“I’m swollen, and they’re moving.”
Reaching over, his warm hands gently curve around my rounded belly, and he asks, “Aren’t they supposed to do that?”
“Yes,” I half-growl, half-sob. “But not this soon. I’m only a few weeks along.”
Shaking his head, I can’t help but notice how his hair sways against his forehead just like Beast’s does. “Ameia,” he starts but I cut him off.
“I need a doctor. Please. You have to get us out of here.”
Grabbing me by the wrists, Vis holds me and says slowly, trying to calm me, “Relax, Ameia. Everything is as it should be. Nothing is wrong.”
“But,” I protest and feel a surge of tears threatening to burst forth. I can handle anything but this. Feeling so helpless, afraid for my children. Unable to protect them.
“Relax, Ameia. Take a deep breath. Stressing out isn’t doing your babies any good.”
I know he’s right, but I still want to freak the fuck out. I take a deep breath, hold it in, and then expel it with another plea, “Please, Vis. I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid, Ameia,” he says reassuringly. “Everything is as it should be.”
“No!” I balk and cry out. “Everything is certainly not!”
“Ameia, Ameia, Ameia,” he murmurs and encircles me in his arms. Hugging me tightly, he says, “I know you have little reason to trust me, but know that I speak the truth. I have no reason to lie to you…
I stiffen at the closeness, but understand he’s only trying to calm me, to keep me from inadvertently hurting myself. I want to punch him in the face though when he tries to tell me, “You’ve been here for a couple of months.”
“That’s not possible,” I instantly dismiss the suggestion. “I’ve only been here a couple of days.”
“Time moves differently here, and it affects everyone differently.”
“But I’ve only been here for two days,” I deny even as I feel more than a niggling of doubt in the back of my mind.
How can I be here for months? Where did all that time go?
“I’m sorry, Ameia, I know it’s not what you want to hear but it’s true.”
I look at him, really look at him. He could be messing with me but he appears to be totally sincere. Why would he lie? What would he gain from it?
“If that’s true…” I say, my voice a strained whisper as my mind wraps around the sheer horror of it. “Then there’s only a couple o
f days before my babies will be ready to be born.”
Vis nods his head slowly. “That’s why everything has already been prepared.”
“No,” I shove away from him. I do not like him right now, nor do I like his truth.
There’s a flash of pain in Vis’ eyes then his face hardens. I feel a stab of guilt for thoughtlessly pushing him away like that.
“I’m sorry,” I immediately apologize and reach for him but he shakes his head. Rising from the bed, he leaves me grasping empty air.
“Don’t be.”
I press both of my hands flat against my belly as I watch him walk back to the door. Bending over, he picks something off the floor and turns back to me.
“Your garments have been cleaned.”
Approaching the bed, he stops when I ask him, “Why are you doing this?”
Head cocking to the side, he asks, “Why am I doing what, princess?”
One of the babies moves against my hands and it both elates me and terrifies me. “This. All of this.”
He scowls. “I still don’t get your meaning…”
“Why are you keeping me here? Why are you taking care of me?”
“Because it is the King’s will.”
I nod my head. “It is, that much is clear, but why are you obeying him? Why are you playing the submissive?”
“I do as I’m ordered to do.”
“Why?”
“Because he is the King. He has filled the emptiness inside of me. He has given me purpose.”
“You could help me. You could help Warrick.”
“I am helping you. Do you find my care lacking?”
I shake my head. It’s like we’re speaking two different languages, and it’s all so damn frustrating.
I take a deep breath and carefully formulate my next words in my mind before speaking them. Vis walks up to the edge of the bed and sets my clothing down upon it.
“You can help me escape. Help Warrick escape. You know we don’t belong here.”
Vis stiffens and I fear I may have pushed him too far. “I could,” he doesn’t deny. “But then who would keep me company?”
“You could come too,” I plead.
“We both know that is a lie,” he smiles ruefully. “I belong down here.”