Unforgotten Family (An Ariel Kimber Novel Book 6)

by Mary Martel

  "Well done, Ariel," Adrian praised.

  I didn't get why he was so impressed by something that came so easily to me. Something he obviously expected me to be able to do. Maybe he was simply putting on a show for either myself or the rest of the Council.

  I dipped my chin in acknowledgment. Only because I couldn't afford to be rude to him at the moment.

  "I want you to stand in the center of the circle while we chant and wait for our other guest to arrive. Relax your mind and open it up to the rest of us. You'll be able to feel us and even taste the differences in our magic. Of course we'll be standing in a ring of magic that you lit up for us as well. Just relax, child. Open yourself to us."

  I wanted to do no such thing. Opening myself up to them would give me cooties.

  And what was up with the bathtub?

  They moved around the circle. Their heads lowered and their arms spread out at their sides. They began chanting words in a language I couldn't even begin to understand. Their arms rose higher and higher as their words became louder and louder, the tone picking up excitement and something I couldn't quite understand, but I felt their exuberance.

  A shiver slithered down my spine. I think I was the only one here not excited. The feel of their magic brushing up against me felt wrong, almost like a betrayal of the worst kind. I shoved that thought aside and concentrated on the different textures of heat and magic coming at me from every angle.

  It coated my skin, invaded my lungs, seeped into my pores. I practically choked on their magic and it just kept coming at me, relentless in its pursuit to consume me.

  I couldn't deny the part of me that enjoyed the sensations, and I found myself unable to resist for a second longer. I opened myself up to them completely and entirely. Not a single one of them hesitated to press the advantage.

  I lost my hold on myself and my magic. The lights flared brightly before exploding. The room filled with heat and a blinding light. I lifted a heavy arm to shield my eyes from the light, but it was entirely pointless.

  Overwhelmed and depleted, I collapsed to the floor and immediately passed out.

  Something wet hit my face, and I lifted my hand, going for it in order to wipe the wetness away. My hand came up tacky, wet, and dripping. There was also a hint of pain inside my wrists. Almost as if there had been a great deal of pain before but it had faded, leaving a phantom of itself behind to linger so I would never ever forget it had been there in the first place.

  I blinked my eyes open and stared down at myself in horror.

  This could not be right.

  This was not happening.

  Not to me. Not now. Not ever.

  "What in the actual fuck is going on here?" I slurred out, sounding like a drunken fool.

  Again, because it was worth repeating, but not out loud because when I spoke I sounded like a freaking drunk, what in the actual fuck was going on here? And since now seemed like a damn fine time to use the F word, so fine it seemed like the F word was practically made for situations like this one, where in the fuck were my clothes?

  I stared down at my very naked body covered in what appeared to be blood, and I thought that if there was ever a time in your life to regret the choices you made that brought you to the place you were in, then this was the time and the place for such regrets.

  Also, I figured out what the bathtub was for, seeing as my naked ass was currently lying on my back in it.

  And did I mention I was covered in blood?

  "What the fuck?" I semi-repeated on a horrified shout. A horrified shout that came out sounding a whole lot like my own voice since the slur had miraculously disappeared. I still had no clue why it had been there in the first place.

  I turned my arms over, examining the insides of my wrists where the fading by the second pain was. There were raised pink lines there that I had never seen before in my whole life. It looked like someone had slit my wrists, but that couldn't be possible... right?

  I watched with no small amount of fascination as the pink began to fade to white and the marks disappeared altogether.

  Holy crap!

  Julian would think this was phenomenal and he'd want to examine me and shove me under a microscope. My heart hurt at the thought of one of my family members. Right now they seemed so far away.

  Adrian's face appeared at the foot of the bathtub. His hands gripped the lip of the tub and he crouched down low.

  His beady eyes raked up my body, starting at my feet. They ate up my legs greedily. They grew heated when they made it to my crotch. They started smoldering as they slithered their way up my middle, and I felt saliva start to gather in my mouth as my eyes started burning.

  I felt violated just by the touch of his eyes on my skin. What would it feel like if it were his actual hands?

  I gagged.

  I fought the urge to lean over the side of the bathtub so I could puke up my dinner and I won. Then I fought the urge to cover up my pink parts, and I won that too.

  I did not feel good about either victories, but I did feel good about the fact I wasn't showing more weakness in front of this man.

  My voice came out harsh when I asked in a low whisper, "What the hell have you done to me?"

  I really wanted to know the answer to that question. At the same time, I absolutely did not want to know. Some things a person was better off not knowing. Like, if this man had copped a feel while I'd been out. I figured I was better off not knowing.

  His eyes finally finished their long journey to mine and I balked at what I saw in them. Heat. Obsession. Not a small amount of lust that made me want to pee the pants I was not wearing. That obsession ran borderline with crazy, and him fixating on me in a sick way was the last thing I needed in my life right now or, better yet, ever.

  "We bled you," Adrian shared in a hushed, excited voice. If anything, his eyes got even brighter, more excited, at this admission. "We're all riding the high of your magic mingled with ours. It was so intense that you weren't the only one to lose consciousness. Three others did as well, and the rest of us were brought to our knees. Only Marcus held it together enough to undress you and put you in the tub. Someone else had to cut you because he wasn't able to stomach that given his feelings toward you. No matter though, it got done. Now that you're awake, we'll move on to the next level."

  He sent a weird, out of his mind smile my way, and I found myself with the urge to puke again. Marcus Cole, a man I once upon a time thought of like a father, undressed me until I was buck naked and placed me in this stupid bathtub. There was a good chance we weren't going to be able to be friends after this, and not only because he'd seen all of my special girl parts that made me a girl.

  That shit was not cool.

  The fact Marcus would take my clothes off at all was a gross violation of my person that we would never come back from no matter what kind of moves he made to try and earn back my trust. I wasn't sure what to do with this, but I did know one thing for certain, and that was if he didn't try and make those moves then I'd be done with him for forever.

  Make no mistake, that would be the end of Marcus Cole and me.

  Rain would rejoice.

  But me?

  My heart would be broken. The type of broken heart you would never be able to fully mend, because you'd always know there was a piece of you missing, and without it you would never function the same again and forever be doomed to walk with a limp.

  "Now," Adrian said, tearing me out of my wretched thoughts, "we are going to bleed for you, and you're going to feel it when it's all mixed together. Then we'll wrap it up with the sacrifice, tying us all together. I can't wait to get that done."

  I was not mixing my blood with any of these crazy people.

  And I wasn't...

  Hold up.

  Did he say sacrifice?

  "Uhh, Adrian?" I mumbled uncomfortably. "I'm not going to be down with watching you people"—I kept going, despite the dirty, angry glare he gave me— "slit the throat of some poor chicken or goat.
Maybe—"

  He cut me off. He did this by weirdly stating, "I'll go first." And then he stood up straight, shrugged off his heavy robe, and stood before the foot of the tub completely naked.

  Here we go again.

  Geez.

  He held up a knife in one of his hands that I had not noticed before. The edge of the knife was pressed into the middle of his upturned wrist. The knife dug in. Blood bloomed and Adrian did not hesitate to drag the blade all the way up to his elbow.

  I stared in shock.

  Dear God, that had to hurt like a bitch. Adrian acted like he was a man on his own and nothing ever gave him any sort of pain. He had to be in agony, but he didn't so much as twitch.

  Adrian held his arm up over the bathtub and myself. He held his pudgy arm over my feet and blood rained down on me. It ran off my ankles and feet, slipping down to mix with my own blood that was the only thing in the tub beside my body.

  Adrian's blood mixed with mine and his arm immediately began to heal. What in the holy hell was up with that?

  I looked down at my entirely healed wrists and my body belatedly started to tremble. Had I been cut up that badly?

  Another mark against them, and another one I would not ever be able to forgive or forget.

  Adrian and I stared at each other in silence for several long minutes, and it was safe to say the whole time had not been a comfortable silence.

  The snide, irrational part of my brain raged about how unfair it seemed that he only had to cut one arm when it looked like they had sliced open both of mine.

  Adrian swayed on his feet and stumbled to the side. He threw his head back and laughed maniacally. Someone bumped into him from the side and grabbed a hold of his bicep. He was dragged away and another robed figure took his place at the end of the bathtub. Their hood remained up, but the front gaped open wide, exposing things I really did not need to see.

  He pulled a knife out of the pocket of his robe and dragged the long sleeve up past his elbow. He lifted his arm and held it out over the bathtub. The knife kissed the skin at his wrist and he easily sliced his forearm open wide. I winced because it had to have hurt, just like Adrian's had to have hurt him too, but neither of them acted like it.

  I guessed they were still riding the high of our magic mixing together. Yet another thing that gave me the creeps about this.

  I didn't look this man in the eyes, and I certainly didn't look at his... erm.. you know, thing. When his arm started to heal, he moved away and another one took his place.

  I felt disgusting sitting there naked and covered in blood, my blood and the blood of others, but I knew it was important that I remain in place so I could get this over with and not cause a scene. I didn't come this far and put my coven through heartache just to walk away before I finished it. No way, no how.

  Marcus Cole was the fifth man to step up in front of the tub. He had his hood down, and like all the others, the front of his robe gaped wide open and he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

  Now, his eyes I did meet in order to avoid looking down again, which I did do before I realized it was him when he'd first stepped up to the edge of the tub. I feared that image would be burned into the back of my brain forever, and this just might be the last time I would ever be able to look him in the eye again without blushing, and I could only do it now because I was so upset with him.

  We didn't speak as he slit his wrist and held it up over the tub and, by default, me. Our eyes never broke contact until his arm started to heal and he looked down at it. He looked back up at me and opened his mouth to speak, but a commotion at the door had him snapping his mouth shut and quickly glancing over his shoulder. His body grew tight and his head whipped back toward me. He threw his robe closed and leaned over the tub, his hands going to the side of the porcelain where he gripped it tightly. His face was a foot away from mine.

  "Marcus," Adrian snapped in warning. "You know the rules. Don't do anything stupid."

  "Don't try to stop it," Marcus whispered urgently. "There is no stopping it, and it will only get worse if you try. Don't try to fight it either. At least it's her and not an innocent. Be thankful for that. And don't tell Quinton or the other one you saw my dick."

  Don't try to stop what?

  I had a bad, bad feeling about what was about to go down here, and I just knew the worst was yet to come.

  Also, was he crazy? Of course I wouldn't tell either Rain or Quinton I'd seen him naked, no matter how mad at him I was. That'd be a death sentence right there.

  Can you imagine? Hey, Dad, Mr. Cole flashed me his dick! It was, um, large. Mmkay, thanks.

  Yikes.

  Dead.

  That would be the end of Marcus Cole, even if I left out the large part. Though, that part was definitely true.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" I whispered hurriedly to Marcus. "Tell me what's going on here. Please." That please hurt to tack on at the end, but sometimes you needed a little sugar to get what you wanted. It was a technique I used with Quinton all the time and it never failed me.

  "I—"

  "Here she is," Adrian exclaimed. "She's just for you, dear. Isn't that lovely?"

  I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but just the crazed happiness shining bright in his eyes scared the absolute holy hell right out of me. And who was this female he kept talking about? I knew there were more of them around here, but I thought this was supposed to be a closed Council thing and I was the only girl involved in that.

  "What—"

  My mouth dropped open and I swear my heart skipped a beat. "No," I whispered, or I thought I whispered. No sound actually came out of my mouth.

  Annabell.

  She should not be in here. Something told me that she should be far, far away from this place.

  She wore a robe very much like the men had on, like the one I'd walked in here wearing before my clothes had been removed from my body while I'd been out. Her robe fell open as she walked, and I got an eyeful of her naked body, a body I'd actually seen before.

  Her mask was off and the scars on her face were in full view. I wished not for the first time that for her sake she didn't feel the need to hide them from the world. Not everyone would find them repulsive, and I knew I only did because I knew what she'd done to earn them.

  Then again, I wore my scars proudly for everyone to see. At least, now I did. There was a time when I'd go out of my way to cover them up—before I received the one on my face—but I had only done that because I got tired of nosy people asking me about their origins. Now, I just didn't give a fuck. I always knew I was pretty, but the boys had taught me just how beautiful a person could be when they embraced who they really were and stopped hiding.

  Annabell stopped at the foot of the tub beside Adrian. She didn't look nervous or happy or anything. Her face was remarkably blank, and I had never seen her so emotionless before. It scared me even more.

  Hadn't Adrian said something earlier about sedating someone? Just what exactly had they given Annabell, and did I really want to know?

  I sat up in the bathtub and covered my breasts with my arm. I hadn't bothered when Adrian had been feasting on my flesh with his eyes, but it felt almost necessary now with Annabell here, looking like she'd been doped up in the extreme. The good news was that sitting up like this and with my thighs pressed tightly together, it totally covered up my vagina from prying, eager eyes.

  "Annabell," I called out quietly. Her dead eyes came to me and I sucked in a sharp breath at the vast nothingness I found there. "Are you okay? Do you want me to take you back to your room?”

  Nothing, absolutely nothing. She didn't so much as twitch. She just stood there staring at me as if she didn't even know who I was.

  I stood up in the bathtub and whirled around, seeking out Marcus.

  He stood outside of the circle with his arms down at his sides, his hands fisted tightly. He refused to meet my eyes and I knew things were about to take a turn for the worse, and I also knew I was
not ready or prepared for it in the slightest.

  And I would find out I was not wrong.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Because She Was Dead

  "Marcus," I called out sharply. He still wouldn't look at me, so I swung my gaze to Adrian who no longer appeared jovial and happy, but was instead staring at my crotch hungrily. "What is she doing here?"

  He didn't meet my eyes, but that was because he was too focused on my crotch. I wanted to punch the little pervert right in the face.

  Romero, I thought. He needed me to not get violent on these people until after I'd rescued him from his cage.

  Adrian finally looked at my face and there was that expression of crazed possession again. "Sit down, Ariel," he commanded, and licked his plump lips.

  I shivered in disgust, but did as he said. Only because I thought it might be the best way to get him to stop staring at my private girl parts. It worked and his eyes roamed over my face, searching for something, but I didn't know what. I didn't want to know what, if I was being honest, because it would have likely scared the shit out of me and there was only so much a girl could take before she lost her freaking mind, and I was closing in on my limit here.

  "She's here for you," Adrian explained, which was really no explanation at all, because I still had no idea what the hell it was supposed to mean.

  I didn't want her to be here for me. I wanted her to go back to her bedroom and sleep off whatever the hell they'd used to sedate her with.

  I never, ever thought there would come a time where I'd find myself standing in Annabell's corner, but here we were. I wanted to fight for her. I wanted to pick her up and carry her out of here and far, far away from this wretched place.

  Ignoring Adrian, I shuffled forward in the tub, also trying to ignore the blood swishing around my feet and ankles. The blood was harder to ignore than Adrian, I was sad to say.

  I reached out and palmed the side of Annabell's face. Her scars were rough against my hand and she flinched slightly at my touch, letting me know she was still in there somewhere, fighting to get out. No way if she was in her right mind would she allow me to touch her like this, especially on this side of her face. She was the exact opposite of me when it came to our scars.