Vladya rubbed his temples. A headache pounded his skull relentlessly like a locksmith. “I am not. Like everyone else, I too believe it is time for Daemon to find peace.”
Merilyn snorted, but did not press the issue. She proceeded to share the details of her day, her household, and the upcoming arrival of her baby. Her face lit up as she spoke about the baby, and truthfully, Vladya felt a glimmer of comfort hearing her talk about it. Not much, but it was something.
It was Merry’s way of trying to distract and cheer him up. And because he liked Merry, for a fleeting moment, it worked. He engaged with her, listening to her tales of mundane joys and worries.
As she prepared to leave, she turned back to him, her eyes filled with concern. “Please, do not do it. Whatever it is you are thinking. My Beloved saw what happened in court today-and that was only because he knows about your mental state, so he recognized the signs when others did not. He said you had a beastflare. One that you struggled to control.”
“I did not struggle to control it; I simply chose not to. There is a difference.”
“Oh, Vlad. Please take care of yourself. I am greatly concerned for you. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask,” she pleaded.
“I do need something. Send a maid to me when you leave. It does not matter which one.”
“A maid, you say?” Merilyn scrutinized him. “With the headache you are nursing, do you truly believe a random female will meet your needs tonight?”
“A random female has always met my needs, Merilyn. It is not as if I have anyone I am emotionally connected with, right?” His gaze bore into hers.
Merilyn’s face paled, guilt and pain warring in her eyes. “Forgive me, Vlad. I did not mean it that way. I would be the last person on earth to speak so carelessly about your deceased bondmate.”
Vladya sighed. “I know. Go home to Henry, Merilyn.”
“What about Aekeira? Surely, she would-“
“No,” he snapped, his voice sharp. Through gritted teeth, he added, “Do. Not. Even. Suggest. It.” The darkness returned to his eyes.
Merilyn recoiled, fear momentarily drowning out concern. “I-I’m sorry.”
Vladya took a deep breath to calm himself, then blinked hard, the darkness fading as quickly as it had come. “Just send a maid, Merilyn.” He stepped back, closing the door with a finality that left no room for argument.
Vladya glanced at the naked maid before him. She had undressed and presented herself to him.
In that position, Vladya should have been rock-hard, tearing off his clothes and mounting her within seconds. However, his body barely responded.
After he undressed, Vladya stroked himself to a half-hard state and positioned himself behind the willing body. But when he grabbed hold of her hips, it felt… wrong. Despite her willingness, she was not the one his body wanted.
“Aekeira is close. You know it,” a voice whispered in his mind. “Take what you want from her. Take what you need.”
He straightened. “Get out.”
The woman looked confused, but quickly obeyed.
Vladya slipped into his robe and made his way out, arriving at the girl’s chambers. Her door was closed, but it opened silently when he turned the handle. It was fortunate too, for a flimsy door handle would not have stopped him-it would only provoke his beast further.
The sight that greeted him was a vision of ethereal beauty. Aekeira lay sprawled across the bed, her white nightgown a stark contrast to her sun-kissed skin and the cascade of golden hair spilling across the pillows. Her eyes were closed, her breath a gentle rhythm in the quiet room.
Vladya entered, locking the door behind him with a decisive click. It had been a mistake, bringing her to Blackstone. She was too close. Too tempting. Too easily accessible.
But for one night, just this one night, he wanted to forget. To think of nothing else. To indulge in the one he truly desired.
Tomorrow, he would resume the battle against himself. Tomorrow, he would face the chaos.
Merilyn knew him well. For as much as Vladya would love to take the righteous path, to let go of Daemonikai and end his friend’s tortured existence, he could not. He had always been selfish, and he had no intentions of changing now.
So what if Daemonikai was broken? So what if the weight of his loss proved unbearable? They would decide whether they would muddle through it or revert to being feral. Together.
There were two options he was looking at. The first: he would fight them off, even if it meant killing Zaiper in the process. The death of a grand lord was no trivial matter, but Vladya cared little for the consequences.
Should this approach fail-possibly due to obstacles like iron shards, dragon blood, and poisoned bullets-he would turn to his second option. He would chant the Xaa’l Tbeh Zeek.
A dangerous and forbidden dark magic used for mind exchange. His mind for the return of Daemonikai’s. There really wasn’t much left of his mind anyway, so it was a fair trade.
Regardless of the outcome, Vladya was prepared to transform into his beast form and spill any amount of blood necessary to safeguard Daemonikai, even if it meant he could not shift back to his male form again. Ultimately, both paths led to the same destination: Daemonikai’s protection. Even at the cost of Vladya’s own sanity. Whatever was left of it, anyway.
So yes, tonight, he would indulge.
With that thought, he extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and climbed into bed beside her.
AEKEIRA
Aekeira stirred from her slumber, feeling a weight pressing upon her. Even before opening her eyes, she knew Grand Lord Vladya had joined her. Her body tingled with warmth, becoming aroused, even as dread filled her.
Swallowing nervously, she looked up at him. “Aekeira,” he uttered in a guttural groan. He appeared livid, though that was nothing new. But this time, he looked… tired too. Not physically exhausted, but mentally burdened. Aekeira struggled to find the right words to describe it, but tiredness seemed to fit.
“Your Highness,” she whispered. Now in close proximity to him, Aekeira forced herself to look beyond the fear that always clouded her perception of this male and truly observe him, Merilyn’s words echoing in her mind.
Knowing what he had endured helped Aekeira see him as more than just her captor, slave master, more than just a heartless grand lord and tormentor. She saw him as any male. As flesh and blood.
She wanted to hug him. Even if he would likely strangle her for it, Aekeira still wanted to hug him anyway. This must be what people mean when they say one was playing with scorching fire.
“Do not look at me like that,” he growled, his voice sharp.
“Like what?”
“Like…” He seemed to search for the words but gave up. “Just don’t look at me like that.”
Like I want to embrace you and ease your pain? Aekeira had always been compassionate. It was her and her sister’s strength as well as their doom.
Ever since she had learned about his struggles, she had thought about him more times than she cared to admit. Living a long life was one thing, but living it in misery was something else entirely.
He leaned down and pressed his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply. A rumbling growl escaped him, sending shivers down Aekeira’s spine.
“You smell so good,” he grumbled. “You should not smell like this. No one has the right to smell like this.” Aekeira opened her mouth to speak.
“Don’t,” his voice muffled against her neck. “Do not talk.” Pulling back, he rose above her and undressed.
In quick, jerky movements, he pulled Aekeira’s nightdress over her head. His claws slipped out, slashing the fabric, leaving her nude before him. His eyes devoured her naked form.
Aekeira let out a shameful whimper, aware of what he saw. She was so drenched she could feel her own pool of moisture.
“Whore,” he uttered, his voice low and deep, devoid of the usual aggression. “Sweet, little whore.”
The insulting word aroused Aekeira more. Her head rolled to the side, her eyes tightly shut.
His body came over hers, hands gripping her thighs, spreading them wide. His manhood probed her entrance, once, twice, and then, it was in.
Aekeira cried out. The usual pain was there, but dulled. And pleasure-sharp, intense pleasure.
His body covered hers completely, his hands encircling her throat. He withdrew and thrust back in, again and again.
He wasn’t as rough as he had been in the past, and Aekeira couldn’t fathom why. She didn’t dwell on it. Her body felt full and strange. A sigh escaped her lips as he rocked into her.
“So good,” he sounded wrecked, his grip tightening around her throat. “Why do you feel so damn good? I could stay inside you all week and not tire of you.”
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