by Ophelia Bell
The long-haired mate came to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You got any suggestions? You’re the master here. You’re supposed to know what she likes.”
Nikhil shook his head. “I’m the slave. She’s my mistress. I do what she says.”
The man snorted. “Not until about five minutes ago you didn’t. You know her better than we do. I sure fucking hope this isn’t permanent. We need you to be the badass you are.”
Again the whip cracked, and Nikhil flinched. Something about this scene was wrong, but seeing his mistress tied and whipped wasn’t it. Something about the sight of her bound like that stirred him. She was the one with the power, so why should she be bound? He didn’t know, but he decided it was good that she was … it was right … and she was pleased by her situation.
The long-haired mate went to the trunk and retrieved something, then moved to stand in front of her. She let out a soft gasp and Nikhil craned his neck to see around her mate. He was bending to affix barbed bands around her thighs, which he tightened until she yelped, though Nikhil couldn’t tell whether her harsh sobs were moans of pain or pleasure.
The sounds coming from her lips made him hard, whichever it was.
“A blade,” his mistress said, fixing him with a determined gaze through her tears. “We need a blade.”
The mate behind her dropped the whip to his side. “No, Belah. You said bleeding you was bad, that we shouldn’t.”
“Just once. Fuck, Iszak, it can be a fucking butter knife. A pen knife. A scalpel. Something to cut! He hasn’t tasted my blood in weeks. It clears his mind when he does.”
A blade. Nikhil’s memory sparked on some distant image involving a blade. His most feared nightmare merged with his most beloved moment in his life. But that wasn’t him. That was another man—a man who was not her servant as he was. This was his true purpose—to serve her, to do her bidding, to fill her womb with his seed and give her children. That was all.
The long-haired mate disappeared for a moment and returned with a hefty steel dagger. He held it up in front of his mistress’s face and she exhaled brilliant blue-white flames that licked up and down along the edge. She continued until the steel glowed white and her mate averted his gaze, wincing and white-knuckled as he held onto it.
“There, now give it to him,” she said.
Her mate came to Nikhil and pressed the hilt of the now blackened blade into his palm. It was almost too hot to touch, but she wanted him to hold it, so he did.
“Nikhil,” she said in a commanding tone that filled the room and made him stand up straight and ready to do her bidding. “I want you to come to me.”
“Yes, mistress,” he said, eagerly stepping toward her.
“Make a cut on my breast, my love. Just a small one.”
Seeking only to please her, he raised the blade and made the cut, a small one above her left nipple. Blood immediately welled, flooding from the wound and trickling in a crimson line around the full curve of her breast.
“Taste me, Nikhil. Taste my blood and remember what you are, who you are. I command it.”
He bent his head and licked up along the side of her breast, catching the wayward droplet and tracing its path to the cut.
She tasted like life and memories. Like a piece of him that belonged, but had been removed without his consent. And she wanted back in, but was seeking the space that was now filled with his need to serve her.
This wasn’t right—his mind kept telling him that he belonged within the framework of her desires, that there was no room for the opposite to be true. You couldn’t exist in two places at once, after all. She didn’t exist to please him; it was the other way around. That’s why he did her bidding now and tasted her, sucked her.
“Nikhil, remember what you are to me. What I am to you. I am your little beast. Remember.”
She took in a deep breath, her breast rising against his mouth as he continued to suckle at her nipple, reveling in the taste of her luscious essence flooding his tongue with sharp, sweet flavor. After he was finished here, he would kneel and please her with his tongue in other places, if she wished.
Fragrant smoke tickled his nostrils and he inhaled her scent, sucking it into his lungs like she had given him her life’s breath.
Inside his mind her words repeated: “I am your little beast. Wake up and collar me again. Be my master.”
But that wasn’t right. She had marked him. That meant he was the beast. He was the pet, the one branded by her magic to show the world who owned him. No, if she wished him to be the master …
“I must mark you,” he said, the words sounding forced, like they came from some buried part of him clawing out of the depths beneath the magic that filled him. Her magic. “If I am your master, you must be branded like the beast you are.”
He held the blade up before her face again. “Breathe your fire for me, mistress,” he said, though he knew not why he made the request, only that the clawing beast he’d thought tamed by her magic wished it, and the slave meant to serve her wasn’t strong enough to keep the creature contained.
Belah’s flames licked out and the blade heated again. Her fire seared his knuckles and he let out a rough cry, but held steady until the steel glowed white from her fire once more.
Then, with hand burned nearly to the bone by his lover’s fire, he aimed the tip of the glowing blade to her flesh above her breasts and began to write his name.
With each cut her skin split and blood welled for a second before it sizzled and blackened. His aim was true, his cuts precise. With each character he wrote, the cobwebs fell away from his mind, her magic holding less and less sway over his will.
Halfway through, he’d written “Nik” and lifted his gaze to meet hers.
Her eyes were glazed with pleasure, her lips parted, and though her body shook from the pain, she loved every cut.
“So beautiful,” he said and shifted closer, needing to feel more of her body against his. He angled his hand differently for the last three letters so that he could tilt his hips against hers. He needed her to know how hot this made him, though he was still foggy as to exactly why.
He pressed his erect cock against her mound as he made the next cut and she gusted out a soft “yes” that feathered his cheek. Her core slickened against the ridge of his cock and he rubbed harder, feeling the small, hard nub of her pleasure and pushing against it.
Two more letters.
His mind sharpened with his need, his body heating as the blade cooled. Belah’s burned flesh filled his senses, the taste of her blood still on his tongue. He made the last cut with a growl of triumph, observing his handiwork and knowing in that moment that this was right. This was what pleased her most, and what made him whole. The slave was the master, and that was as it must be between them, always.
He cut her breast again and her head fell back, a moan of pleasure escaping her throat when he bent to taste the blood that welled.
Her essence, her gift to him, and all he needed to master her forever.
“Please,” she begged.
“You are mine, Beast. Forever now.”
He dropped the knife to the floor and caught Iszak’s eye where the man stood waiting behind Belah, still gripping the whip in his hand.
“Resume,” he said. “I need to make sure my little lapse there is completely clear. Hearing her pain should do the rest, but I intend to fuck her while she screams.”
Chapter Eighteen
Nikhil
Iszak’s sure, steady strokes with the whip drove Belah into a frenzy while Nikhil fucked her. She screamed out her ecstasy, her body convulsing with the pain, each strike causing her to clench tighter around his thrusting cock. She reached her peak with a sonorous cry that was music to his ears, but he wasn’t done with her yet.
He pulled out of her, his cock still aching for more, but he had to clear his mi
nd completely of that disturbing impulse to grovel at her feet. He swiftly unfastened her bindings, secured the rope around her neck, and forced her to kneel and take him in her mouth.
She eagerly wrapped her lips around him and he tangled his hands in her wet hair, guiding her as he pushed his shaft as deep as it would go. Her tongue coiled around him, sliding along his length with each thrust, reminding him how perfect she could be when on her knees for him like this.
“You are mine, little beast. Mine to command, mine to own. Your mouth, your body, your cunt are all mine.”
Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, but the blue gaze that met his was filled with worship and utter submission that triggered an orgasm more glorious than any he’d felt in eons.
When he spilled his semen into her mouth, she begged for more, and he continued to guide her head with her hair tangled around his fist while she serviced her other two mates in turn. When all four of them were spent, they returned to the bath to lounge in the steaming heat.
Belah let out a deep, sated sigh, snuggling into Nikhil’s chest with her legs draped across Iszak’s and Lukas’s laps.
“We’re having a little family reunion tonight,” she said softly.
“Oh?” Nikhil asked, idly tracing wet fingertips over the outline of his name so precisely carved into her chest above the luscious curves of her breasts.
Iszak made a rumbling noise of agreement. “The winds announced her sister’s arrival some time ago, just after we untied you. No doubt they’re waiting for us.”
“I didn’t expect them to follow me up here,” Nikhil said. “The three of them seemed intent on falling into bed and staying there when I left.”
“There was news from the Sanctuary,” Lukas said.
Nikhil tensed. “What news? And how do you know this?”
“The wind tells us everything. If a word was ever uttered, we can hear it.”
“Of course you can hear it,” Nikhil grumbled, knowing what Lukas said was true. His own magical blessings gave him a similar power.
“The news isn’t good,” Iszak said. “Makes me want to lock all the doors and hunker down, in fact. Not that I’m one to avoid a conflict, but we went through enough bullshit to get where we are now, so I’m not exactly itching to leave again.”
“What is the news?” Belah asked, sitting up straighter on Nikhil’s lap and slipping her arm around his shoulder. Her breast pressed against the center of his chest so alluringly he found it difficult to care about anything but her curvaceous figure in his arms. But he knew there would be more work to do. The bitch who’d mind-controlled him for the last three thousand years was still a serious threat, and as much as he would love to forget all his worries and spend every day living to please his goddess, he had unfinished business.
“The Haven is in danger,” Lukas said. “And when a Dionarch’s son shows up and admits his mother’s gone off the deep end, it’s worth a listen. They don’t admit to madness easily, even though everyone knows they’re always flying a little higher than the moon.”
Belah leaned forward with interest and Nikhil let out a soft sigh of contentment when her breast brushed against the inside of his arm.
“What did Nyx do?” she asked. “And where’s Neph? Why is my sister here and not shacked up with her mates somewhere?” She surged up, scrambling to climb out of the tub. Nikhil let out a grunt of surprise when the pleasant press of her breast was replaced by the pressure of her hand as she braced herself on him for balance. “Never mind. I should just go talk to her myself.”
He let out a sigh of resignation. “Well, boys, I guess it’s back to work.”
* * *
The reunion would be an odd one, and Nikhil wasn’t sure he was entirely prepared for it so soon after nearly losing control of his mind again. He was still a little shaky, but after having Belah on her knees and collared again, he knew that power was never something he would relinquish for the rest of his days, and it gave him a renewed sense of command that he held onto like a lifeline.
He gritted his teeth when they walked into another apartment in the Enclave that was as spacious and richly decorated as the one Belah shared with Lukas and Iszak. Only this one was filled with people. There were thirteen others, some dragon, some turul, one familiar ursa who smiled at him in welcome, and a few more guests who were surprisingly human.
All heads turned to face the door and he stopped inside, surveying the scene with a careful eye out of habit, though perched as the place was on the side of a mountain overlooking a bottomless ravine, there were few avenues of escape. Not that he should need to run—these people were his family now, whether they liked it or not, and his mission affected them as much as it affected him.
Lukas and Iszak brushed past him with comforting pats and a shoulder squeeze just as Nikhil’s eyes found Marcus, who stared grimly back at him.
His oldest memories had been dissolving since his conversation with Zorion, but ever since Belah’s command to remember, the memory loss had halted. The worst memory of them all was also one of the most recent, and he forced himself to face his victims now.
As he made his way down into the sunken living space, the din of conversation subdued, then completely halted when he paused to stand in front of Marcus, who held Evie tight against his side as though he feared losing her again.
He glanced behind them to Ked, who watched impassively, though with no evident hostility. He and Ked had made their peace with each other, but he hadn’t had the chance to truly make amends with the two people he’d hurt the most.
“I don’t know how to begin,” he said, his words a harsh scrape against his throat. Regret nearly strangled him and he had to take a deep breath to say more. Marcus only watched, his stare darkening.
“Don’t,” Marcus said. “Better to just keep your distance, if it’s all the same to you.”
Gritting his teeth, Nikhil said, “It isn’t all the same to me. I refuse to excuse what I’ve done. My weakness made it possible for a vicious beast to use me as her tool. That’s all on me, but we are kindred whether we like it or not. Our blood makes us brothers—you, me, Naaz, and Sterlyn … and Neela is our sister. I was an only child, then general of an army. I had some sense of brotherhood with my fellow soldiers, but that ended when I became their commander. These dragons are here to ask me to become their general again, but I cannot say yes to that without knowing you and I have made peace. Marcus, forgive the injuries I inflicted on you while I was under the Lamia’s spell. Join me in the fight to beat her now that we are free.”
“But are we?” Marcus asked, his face incredulous. “Are we really free of you? I can feel the tickle of our connection still. The blood cocktail you infused me with when you made me connected us all. That hasn’t gone away, even after Ked marked me. I still feel it. What’s to stop you from using it?”
“My honor,” Nikhil said, “of which I’m sure you believe I have none, but give me a chance to prove I do still. I’ve promised the others never to take advantage of our mental link to control them the way I once did. You can talk to them, if you choose—I only use it now to communicate. That’s it. And if it makes you feel better, I have these …”
He reached up and traced the tingling lines of the dragon mark that circled his throat, then pulled his sleeves back to reveal the matching ones at his wrists.
Marcus’s eyes widened and he idly rubbed a spot between his shoulder blades. “She marked you?”
“Yes,” he tested his mental control and confirmed yet again that his connection to Belah was still there, like a shackle around his will, but one with the key left in the lock. She was only granting him free will because she chose to. “I belong to her. No doubt the same way you belong to him.” He tilted his chin to Ked.
Marcus glanced at Ked with one eyebrow raised and a soft smirk on his lips. He eyed Ked in an almost proprietary way, and the huge, da
rk-haired dragon’s eyes narrowed. Finally Ked laughed and looked at Nikhil.
“You could say we own each other now. We’re both at Evie’s mercy, though,” Ked said, placing a large hand on each of his mates’ shoulders before him.
With the touch, Marcus relaxed and smiled at Nikhil. He shook his head, letting out a sigh and proffering his hand.
“You have always been an impressive leader. Naaz, Neela, and Sterlyn have been chattering in my head for weeks, arguing in favor of following you, but aside from that night with the dragons, I had yet to see the new you in action. I’m looking forward to it.”
With a sigh of relief, Nikhil grasped Marcus’s hand and squeezed. He hated the memory of what he’d done to Marcus and Evie after he thought he had lost Belah for good. If he could go back in time and change anything, he would fix that.
He suddenly found himself wrapped in Evie’s embrace, her delicate frame enveloping him in a fierce hug that caught him off guard. He hesitantly reciprocated, resting his hands gently on her back.
“I forgive you, Nikhil. You were broken before, and so you broke us, but we’re whole again. And so are you.”
He closed his eyes, fighting back a surge of emotion as he held her tighter. “Yes, Evie, I am whole, and I probably wouldn’t be if not for you.” He swallowed back the emotion, but when he opened his eyes, he was met with the glassy stares of three dragons who seemed to know without asking exactly what he was feeling. In the end it had been Evie’s song that finally cleared his head of the Lamia’s thrall, and for that, he would be forever grateful.
Something had happened to make all these people gather, to get Aurum and her new mates to leave their comfortable cabin and search him out. Setting aside his regret for the moment, he released Evie and faced Aurum, Calder, and Nicholas where they were gathered near the kitchen.
Belah joined him, pulling her sister into a fierce hug. “What are you doing here? I hope everything’s okay. Are the others in the Sanctuary still? Did they find their mates?”