by Luna Hunter
“You must be Drusilla,” he says.
She tries to read his intentions, but his voice is cold and detached. Drusilla simply nods, afraid that opening her mouth will give her away.
“We will discuss this later,” Velo says.
Kolos guides Dru to her seat between him and Aksel on the royal table, with Ragnar sitting on the other side of their father. Vladimir clears his throat, and the hall, which has by now filled to the brim with Xhakans, falls silent.
“Tonight, we have not one, not two, but three celebrations!” Velo says, his deep voice echoing throughout the hall. “Kolos the Brave, Ragnar the Strong and Aksel the Wise have all proved themselves at their Akademies. They have brought great honor to House Velo. Tonight, we feast!”
All the Xhakans in attendance bang their balled fists on the table in a thunderous, ear-splitting applause. Next they clang their glasses together, and all drink up.
“That’s it?” Dru whispers to Aksel as the crowd attacks their meals with vigor and enthusiasm. “That’s the entire speech?”
“That’s it,” Aksel says. “We’re not the type for long-winded talks. We’re a direct bunch.”
The three brothers are all smiles as they celebrate, and under the table, Kolos squeezes her knee.
Dru softly kicks him against the shin in mock-protest, which only makes him run his hand up her thigh with a naughty grin stuck on his face.
She tries to ignore his wandering hand. The last thing Dru wants is to turn red when faced with a crowd of this size.”
“I feel like everyone is looking at me,” she tells Aksel. “Does everyone know about, you know, us four?”
“No,” Aksel replies calmly. “We haven’t made the announcement yet. Don’t worry, we will, but all in due time. Besides, I thought you’d like to get acclimatized to our planet first.”
“Thanks,” she replies.
Aksel knows Dru well. All this new impressions are making her head spin — going slow is the right thing to do. As she looks across the room, and to the men surrounding her, a strange feeling takes hold of her.
All her life, she’s lamented her lack of family… and now Drusilla has just that. Three mates, who will do anything for her. Who want to mate with her, who want to start a family with her.
All she has to do is tell them the truth about her past, before it blows up in her face and ruins her one shot at happiness. Easier said than done.
Raised voices to her right draw the woman’s attention. Ragnar is having a heated discussion with his father, and from the grim looks on both of their faces, it’s not going well.
“How could you let that happen?!” Ragnar thunders. “Where is Emla?! I will get her myself if I have to!”
“This is not the time or the place for this discussion,” Velo scolds him. “Know your place, Ragnar. You will not talk to me like this! You’ve always been too impulsive, boy. Kolos, tell your brother to stand down.”
“No,” Kolos says.
Velo turns to him, mouth agape for a moment.
“Excuse me?”
“No,” Kolos says again. “You owe us an explanation, Father. You owe us the truth.”
“I don’t owe you a qijing thing,” Vladimir Velo says, his face turning red. “You will obey me!”
“We’re not children anymore,” Aksel joins in. “You can’t command us, you can’t make us cower any longer. Tell us what really happened!”
Drusilla shrinks into her seat as the Xhakans have a shouting match. The guests quietly clear out of the main hall, avoiding eye contact with anyone at the royal table. Velo’s temper is a thing of legend, and the crowd knows when it’s time to leave.
“What really happened?!” Velo barks. “What really happened is that I made peace with the Djalls! Peace! You know how many men died protecting our borders?! Of course you don’t! You’ve all lived sheltered lives. I have spoiled you. You’ve been away, playing general at that Akademi, lightyears away from all responsibility. Meanwhile, I have led! I have conquered! I have visited every family of every fallen soldier, I have said the last rites at every burial! Can you say the same?!”
A silence envelops the room. The hall is empty now, the mood shifted entirely. The three brothers all glare at Velo, who has a crazed look in his grey eyes.
“Your sister was taken in a raid. End of story. I have bartered a peace with the Djall King, and as much as I miss my daughter, I have to do what is best for our people, instead of what is best for me. I suggest you three do the same.”
With that he turns and leaves, leaving the brothers stunned. In a fit of rage Ragnar flips the entire table, the plates crashing on the floor.
“Ragnar, calm down!” Kolos shouts.
“He’s going to shift!” Aksel says. “Dru, stop him!”
The woman has no idea how to do that, but she’ll do her best she can. Ragnar’s body is shimmering, red scales appearing all over as he roars. Dru wraps himself around his waist and nuzzles his neck.
“Come back to me,” she whispers. “Please.”
To her surprise, he listens to her voice. She guides him back to the present, and he wraps his strong arms around her waist. His fingers dig into her skin, his fangs sinking into her neck. Dru kisses him right below the ear, and Ragnar growls approvingly into her neck.
She grabs hold of his hands and with the help of Kolos and Aksel, lead him back to their room. There he sits down on his bed, a look of pure anguish on his face.
Seeing Ragnar so sad is breaking Dru’s heart, and she wants to cheer him up. She wants to lift everyone’s spirits. Drusilla grabs his chin, forces him to look up, and kisses him.
His hands instantly move to her back and fidget with the zipper on her fancy dress. The garment pools around her lap a moment later, and the other two Xhakans join in, surrounding her. Hands roam every inch of her body, and there’s lips on her neck, her shoulders, her mouth — everywhere.
A second later she feels Ragnar’s hands tugging at her underwear, and her heart leaps into her throat.
“Wait,” she says, and the three men stop. “The is all a bit too much. I… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Aksel says as he plants a kiss on her shoulder. “We have the rest of our lives. There’s no rush.”
The rest of their lives. Gulp.
“Do you want me to take you to your room?” Kolos asks.
“No,” she says resolutely. “No I just want to sleep… next to you three. Is that okay?”
Ragnar nods. “That’s absolutely fine. We all need to cool our heads — me most of all.”
Drusilla climbs into the king-sized bed, and watches the three Xhakans disrobe in front of her. They snuggle up against her, and she’s smushed in between Ragnar and Kolos, their hard bodies pressed up right against her.
Resisting her urges is becoming harder by the day.
Chapter Twelve
The morning comes too soon. The feeling of waking up with two hard Xhakan cocks pressed against you is not one Drusilla is apt to forget anytime soon. Her body yearns for their touch, and all she has to do is slip her panties off, adjust her waist and push back, and Ragnar would slide right into her…
But she resists the temptation, though only barely. If she lets Ragnar have her, Kolos and Aksel would join in right away, and as much as she wants to happen, it’s also completely overwhelming.
“Good morning,” Aksel says, tearing her attention away from her naughty thoughts. An apron covers his naked frame as he walks in carrying a plate of hot food.
“You’re up already?” Dru yawns as she climbs out of the bed. Kolos and Ragnar grumble and turn around, still lost in sleep.
“I’m an early riser,” Aksel says. “Unlike these two. Here, you must be starving — we didn’t finish the meal last night before everything turned to qij.”
Drusilla gratefully accepts the offer. The smell of freshly grilled meat wakes the other two Xhakans, and they join the couple for breakfast moments later.
“What is next?
” Dru asks.
“Father is hiding something,” Ragnar says. “Or else he wouldn’t have gotten so mad.”
“I agree,” Kolos says. “We have to figure out what.”
The men are silent as they think. Drusilla’s eyes move from one Xhakan to the next. Each one is gorgeous in his own right, and she’s glad they aren’t making her choose.
It would be the hardest decision of her life.
Even though she’s finally on Valkronis, which is all she ever wanted, her mind isn’t on revenge. Her thoughts aren’t all about revenge. For the time since she can remember, she feels… grateful.
Grateful for their love, their protection, and most of all, their patience.
Drusilla has pulled back countless times, and the Xhakans haven’t made a fuss. They haven’t called her a tease, they haven’t pressured her or forced her. They are patient, they are understanding. They are amazing.
She’s ready.
Just like that, the thought fills her. She’s ready for them, ready to forget about her past, ready to come clean, ready to be absolutely honest.
“I have something to say,” Dru says.
The three men all look up at her as she opens her mouth to speak.
And at that exact moment, a reptilian bird swoops into the room through an open window, drops a thick piece of parchment on the middle of the table, and flies back out before any of them can react.
“That’s the sea of the Djall!” Kolos gasps as he picks the parcel up and unrolls it. Everyone holds their breath as they watch him.
Kolos’s skin itself turns pale as his eyes scour the page.
“What is it?” Aksel says. “Don’t keep us in suspense!”
“An invitation,” Kolos says coldly. He turns the paper towards the rest. “To Emla’s and the Djall King’s wedding.”
Drusilla’s heart skips a beat, and everyone in the room looks absolutely flabbergasted.
“W-wedding?” Ragnar chokes. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”
“I’m afraid not,” Kolos says as he admires the seal on the parchment. “This is straight from the Djall King’s desk. No doubt in my mind about it.”
“This changes everything,” Aksel says. “Everything.”
The mention of the Djall King has got Drusilla’s blood pumping. All of the anger, all of the rage inside of her wells up again. Even now she can’t escape his corrupting influence. She was so close, so close to letting go, but now the dam has been broken and the anger is rushing through her veins.
“What now?” Drusilla asks, trying to keep her voice steady. The Xhakan brothers are too distraught to notice the change in her demeanor.
“We go there. Right now,” Ragnar says resolutely. “Right this qijing second. Every second she spends with that monster is one too many.”
“For once I agree with you, brother,” Aksel says.
“No wonder Father didn’t want us to know where she was,” Kolos says. “Do you think he knew?”
“Of course that old fucker knew,” Ragnar says, his voice shaking with anger. “He knew all along. He probably sold her off to broker this peace, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“If that’s true,” Aksel says, “We have to dethrone him. That couldn’t stand.”
“Only one way to find out,” Kolos says. “Let’s ask her.”
“Okay,” Drusilla says.
Her moment of revenge has come. She will accompany the Xhakans, she’ll face the Djall King, and she’ll finally get the answers she’s been looking for her entire life.
All three Xhakans turn to her. “No,” they say in unison. “You stay.”
“What? If you think you’re going somewhere without me, then—”
“No discussion,” Ragnar’s voice booms.
The three Xhakans rise up, and without saying another word, leave their mate in their quarters.
Stay here and wait? Drusilla thinks to herself. You don’t know me as well as you three think you do.
Chapter Thirteen
Sneaking onto the Shaqixi, the Xhakan ship, is easy for Drusilla. Child’s play. The three men have no idea of what she’s truly capable of.
They’ll learn soon enough, she thinks to herself. They’ll learn.
As the ship takes off, the young woman hidden away between various boxes in the cargo hold, her mind is focused on the Djall King.
Soon.
Drusilla slips into a battle trance, every fiber in her being focused on the task at hand. When the ship touches down hours later, she is charged up.
She is ready.
Before the Xhakans have even unfolded their ramp, Drusilla is already inside the Djall castle, sprinting through the halls. There is little to no security here. No guards. No alarms. No traps.
She reaches the top room of the castle, following her instincts. The door is open, and seated behind his desk, his back to the door, is the Djall King.
His table is covered with maps and documents, and he’s hunched over, studying them intently.
This is my moment.
Drusilla slips a small knife out of her boot and sneaks up from behind.
This is easy. Too easy.
In one quick movement she grabs the King’s neck and places the knife at his throat.
“Time’s up,” she grunts.
She waits, ready to hear the Djall King plead for his life, to hear him beg and grovel. And she will say no.
Instead, he doesn’t move a single muscle.
“This is for Zoey,” Drusilla grits through her teeth, fighting back angry tears. “This is for mom! Aren’t you going to say something? You bastard?! Give me something!”
“Z-Zoey?”
The Djall King’s voice is shaky. “Can it be… Drusilla? Is it… you? After all these years? My baby?”
He rises from his seat ever so slowly, and Drusilla lets him. She wants to see his face, wants him to know how much he hurt both her and her mother. The Djall turns to face Dru, and the raw emotion on his face takes her off guard.
“It is you!” he gasps, clasping his hands to his heart.
That’s not how this is supposed to go. He’s supposed to curse me. To plead. To renounce his evil ways. Instead, he’s acting like this is a fucking reunion!
The Djall’s red eyes are filled with tears. For the first time, Drusilla can take a good, honest look at her father. And she imagined she’d see a devil, but instead she sees…
A man.
A frail, old, crying man.
Yes, he has horns, and long flowing black hair, and fangs, but in this moment, he’s vulnerable.
“Drusilla, it’s been so long,” he says. “I didn’t dare to hope…”
He opens his arm in a hug, and Drusilla takes a step back, holding the knife up.
“Stay away from me!” She cries, her voice nearly breaking. “Stay back!”
“I’ve looked everywhere for you,” he says. “I’ve turned over every stone in the galaxy, and only after a decade did all hope leave me… and now you’re here, and you… you want to kill me?”
“You abandoned us!” Drusilla cries, hot tears stinging her eyes. “You, the Djall King, did this!”
“Please, call me Samvel, or father—”
“Never! You left us, you sent killers after us! Mom died, because of you!
“Zoey is… dead?”
Drusilla shakes her head. “You don’t get to call her that. You don’t get to cry, to mourn!”
The Djall King shakes his head, tears filling his eyes. “I loved that woman, Drusilla. I loved her with all my heart. What happened?”
“She got sick!” Dru cries. By now she’s crying so hard the knife in her hands is shaking. “She died when I was only a teen. I had to take care of myself, and the only thought that kept me going, was taking revenge. On you! I want to drive this fucking knife through your blackened heart!”
“I… I see,” the Djall man says. He sighs deeply and rubs his temples. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Drusilla, but thin
gs are… not as you believe they are. Allow me to explain myself. Please, Dru.”
“Don’t say that! Don’t use my name like that! You haven’t earned it!”
Her knuckles have turned white from gripping the knife so tightly.
“Fair enough,” the king says, “but you must know I loved your mother. More than anything. More than you know is possible. With every fiber of my being, I loved that woman.”
“Then why? Why?!”
The Djall man sits down, and again, he sighs deeply.
“Where do I even begin? You’re asking me to describe a lifetime in a sentence. Zoey, your mother, she left me… right after you were born. I… I was a different man back then. I was… difficult. Impatient. Ambitious. I don’t blame her for leaving me, but I do regret she never gave me a second chance. Never let me prove to her, to you, that I could change. That I have changed.”
He looks up at his long-lost daughter, a melancholic smile on his face.
“That is my biggest regret. But, now I have you again. And my, you’ve grown. You are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Shut up,” Drusilla whispers, no longer sure of anything.
“The wound your mother’s absence gave me… it never healed. Yes, I looked for you two everywhere — because I wanted to have you back in my arms! You! My baby girl! I never would have hurt any of you, not you or your mother. You have to believe me.”
“That’s kinda hard to do right now,” Dru answers.
And yet… the Djall man sounds completely honest. Drusilla is a skilled reader of people, and this is absolutely not what she expected.
In her mind, this conversation has happened a million times before — but it never played out like this.
Never.
Dru expected anger, resentment, a climax… not an old man begging for love.
“Why did mom leave you, then? Why did she tell me to stay away from the Djall King at all costs, like you were the bogeyman?!”
The Djall man looks away, his eyes filled with tears.
“Please, if you cannot call me father, call me Samvel. Samvel Zakar. That is my name. I am not ‘the Djall King’… I am a man, a Djall yes, the leader of my people… but the humans, the Xhakans, they speak of me, of us, as if we are vermin.”