Текст книги "Ties That Bind"

Автор книги: T. A. Grey

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

CHAPTER 11

Sitting on his knees with his feet tucked behind him, Telal closed his eyes and took deep breaths. In through his nose, out through his nose. He closed his mind off to everything. The specially-made room helped to block out all noise and had a concave cream-colored ceiling and white padded floors. Each little spec from the floors to the ceiling added to the harmony of the room and allowed him to open his mind.

Today, he couldn't get his mind to do what he wanted worth a damn though. Each time he focused his mind on nothing, heard only the fictional sound of waves crashing in his mind, it was shut off, staggered, until all he saw was her.

Kiss me. Her soft words still lingered with him, invading his thoughts like a fly buzzing around his head. He tried to swat it but it continued to elude him. He took a deep breath and tried again. His thoughts centered, focused, then the image of her sliding naked and wet out of the tub slammed into the front of his mind.

Fuck.

Slouching in defeat, he scrubbed a hand over his face. She was beautiful, yes, but he saw beautiful woman all the time and it never interfered with him like this. He knew this might happen if she came here. Even in the short amount of time he'd spent around the succubus, she'd managed to imprint herself in his thoughts so easily.

The last time he'd had a woman was nearly twelve months ago. He hadn't slept with her out of any kind of sexual frustration, but more out of boredom. His life had a habit of feeling tedious, boring. Go to sleep and try to get in a few hours, then get up and go to work and plan, plan, plan. At the time, he'd thought a fling with a beautiful vampire would change things up. Instead, he'd done the deed and left without a goodbye. It'd been cold, passionless. Then he'd had a restless night's sleep only to wake up to the same job, same work. He hadn't attempted anything with a woman since then. It wasn't the answer to his restlessness.

He'd found peace in meditating. Not only that, but his powers seemed to regenerate faster, to grow stronger. Coming from a powerful line of royalty, he had the power to bring back life. But there were conditions, such as the death must be very, very recent. It also drained nearly all of his powers. After he'd saved Alpha Lyonis Keelan he'd been depleted for a week. He'd barely had the strength to port everyone out of the rift and get himself back home before he'd collapsed on the floor—limbs like putty, eyes burning and bloodshot—only to wake up days later in his bed. His guard Kearnyn had seen to him, fed him, just another reason he paid the bastard so much.

In truth, he recognized that the succubus Lily Bellum presented a major problem to him. Several problems, in fact. She interfered with his job whether she was around him or not. She'd caused him nothing but stress in the past by summoning ancient demons, and now she lived under his roof. Naked and wet...

He shook his head to clear the image. The woman had to be daft to chase after him like she did. He was a demon and couldn't be further from compatible with her than if he were an idummi. If she realized it then she just didn't care. Foolish lilit. Yet he couldn't deny that the thought of touching her body, of tasting her lips wasn't completely appealing.

Forcing his eyes closed, he blanked his thoughts from Lily Bellum. He will not touch her; he will not let her interfere with his job. His people depended on him. Taking the succubus was not in the cards.

* * *

Hours later and only mildly more relaxed, Telal showered and threw on a fresh button-down satin shirt with black slacks. He went into his office, pleased that at least Kearnyn was already there and ready to go. At least something today would go the way he liked it—normal and easy.

“Rosa Medina signed the contract to enspell the weapons.”

“I figured as much. I want you to oversee the project. I'd do it, but it seems I have a trip to plan now.” And Lily Bellum was actually the least of his problems at the moment. Odd.

Kearnyn paused for a moment then nodded.

Telal didn't miss the unusual beat. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all,” he answered readily.

“Good, now let's plan this out. The last thing I'd expected was to make a trip into the rift.”

He grabbed a flat paper map of the earth which showed the lines where the rifts were and took a seat at his desk. Not only did he have to decide on the right point of entry which wouldn't get him immediately killed, but he had to plan on seeing his family—if they were alive—for the first time since the war. What would they say or think? He'd abandoned them to live atop the rift, though Tobius 'the bastard' Kulev had lied to him. He could still feel the burn of deceit after all these years.

When he'd agreed to help Tobius close off the rift, it was under strict understanding that only the lower levels would be closed off. He went along with it because his people would be allowed, as they always have, to travel on the earthen-realm freely; and the extra protection offered by the newly formed Atal Warriors would help to keep the idummi and deadly jaheera demons at bay. Or so he thought. Never could he have guessed his decision would lead his people into a hundred-year long war.

He didn't learn until the last minute when the Atal Warriors charged through the rift's barrier, that that wasn't what the Commander had planned at all. He was going to lock all of them under the rift. He could still remember the smirk on the bastard's face as he'd turned to him and said, “Don't worry; you're safe for all the help you've given us.”

He could have stayed below in that suffocated realm without a chance of leaving lest he meet his fate from one of the Atal Warriors, but he’d seen his chance at freedom. His decision was purely selfish but years later he realized he had made the right one, because if he hadn't left when he did then there would be no one to champion for his people's right to those who hold the power over them.

The day Tobius en Kulev and his mate were murdered by rogue demons was a day he'd celebrated. In traditional demon fashion, he'd ordered the finest alcohol in the city, invited all of his friends, though they were really mere acquaintances, and drank, danced, and fucked for a solid week. It happened ages ago but it still felt like yesterday.

Kearnyn and Telal poured over maps and ideas until they chose the ideal location. A part of the rift some ten miles away from the main rift city of Harumina. He remembered playing in the fields outside the city as a child with his brother Alrik. Trees of dark brown branches with fluffy pink and white flowers filled the grassy field with bright colors until it almost looked like a painting. At the time he'd taken it for granted, had never really appreciated the beauty of it. Yeah, he didn't do that until after he was gone and couldn't look at it again. Life was cruel like that.

He'd hike, hopefully uninterrupted, to the castle. His father's guards used to keep watch, so he'd have to get past them first and into the throne room. He'd wait and see what kind of welcoming he'd receive. Hell, he didn't even know if his father, mother, or brother were alive. If they were, then they hated him. That much he knew for certain. His father always had a cruel streak, quick to punish, quick to hurt and, as he got older, he stopped seeing his mother protest his treatments until, eventually, she joined in.

When he was young, he'd taken it upon himself to watch over his little brother. Telal never wanted to be king, but Alrik would be perfect for it. When his father died, Telal would be put in charge, so he saw to it to teach his younger brother so that he could hand the kingdom over to him. Alrik had a fair heart and a sight for justice, but even Telal had seen the effects of his father's 'grooming' over him. His opinions had started to change, to mimic his father's. Secretly, Telal would take him through the prisons or outside the castle’s walls to show him the non-royals—the prolitare.

The class injustice had always rubbed him raw. Even after he left the rift, he continued to see the same pattern in humans for hundreds of years. For a long time he thought it was just the way life worked. Though today he didn't believe it; he believed it could be changed.

As they finished mapping out and planning his course of action he went through the pros and cons of this trip. The pros—to see the kingdom and another true demon for the first time in a thousand years. The cons—seeing his family, if they were alive. If his father still carried the throne then he might toss him into a prison to rot for a thousand years while rats ate his flesh. Or worse, his brother was dead. His heart constricted at the thought like a fist squeezing it. He'd never loved anyone like he loved his brother. With any luck, his brother had heeded his advice and ran a kingdom where the prolitare were treated equally.

Too bad he wasn't lucky. His gut told him a different story. The chances of his brother turning out to be what he wanted were near to nil. The chances of him being alive were even less.

His thoughts were interrupted when the office door swung open and Lily Bellum sauntered in wearing a flowing white dress with blooming pastel flowers on it that fell just above the knee with a flat pair of black sandals. Her hair was pulled back with a tie that showed off her slender neck.

She's just a beautiful woman. Not even that beautiful. You've seen many before and will many, many more before you die.

“Hey fellas, what's going on?” She hopped onto the desk, crushing the map and papers he'd been making notes on and wrinkling their perfectly flat surface. He ground his jaw until it popped.

“Working. Get out.” He debated again throwing her out, but damn, he couldn't do it. She'd go to the law. This woman went after things like an eighteen-wheeler barreling a hundred miles per hour down the highway. Having the police breathing down his neck while he was this close to getting his people freed wouldn’t do. And if he were to admit it, he knew he owed her father Frank. He'd helped him get set up on this realm when no one else would even glance his way. Shit.

She smiled at him and he swore her eyes twinkled. She crossed her legs and started kicking the top one. His eyes fell to the smooth skin. Kick...kick...kick. A jeweled bracelet on her ankle chimed with the movement.

His chair slid harshly across the floor as he stood and planted his hands on the desk, leaning over her. “I said get...out.” He kept his voice low and deadly, every bit the threat he meant it to be.

She just smiled at him like he amused her. God dammit, she made him want to pick up his chair and throw it through a window.

She looked down at the papers on his desk. “Oh, planning your trip to the rift, huh? I hope you're making that a trip for two, because I'm going.”

He laughed, he couldn't help it. Her statement was the epitome of absurd, besides it felt good to laugh in her face. “No way in hell.” He glared at her to shove his point home.

“I'm going one way or another.”

He looked at Kearnyn for guidance or something but he only lifted a big shoulder in a shrug and discretely left the room. Telal's eyes narrowed on the closing door and he mentally made a note to cut the vampire's wages.

She hopped down from the desk and ran her hands over her hips then gripped the bottom of her dress and swung it side to side in a little dance. “Like my new dress?”

He grunted and started stacking the papers she'd messed up on his desk. He hated the disorder but righting it always made him feel peaceful inside. He did his best to ignore the obnoxious woman but he might as well pretend not to hear music blaring from an amplifier at a metal concert.

Grabbing the documents, he headed for the filing cabinet. Her soft steps followed him. “I bought it just for you.” He put the papers in the proper file in alphabetical order then locked the drawer before turning around and almost bumping into her.

“Get out of my office.” He headed back to the desk with the intent of calling Kearnyn to come drag her away when she touched his arm, pulling him to a dead stop. She walked around in front of him, a wide smile on her unpainted pink lips. Then she reached into the valley between her breasts and pulled out a thin long box.

He had to swallow twice before he could speak. “You keep things between your breasts?” His voice turned hoarse like he'd drank a gallon of acid.

Her eyes grew hooded, sexy; her smile wicked. “Not usually but I can if you'd like.”

“What? No.” He cooled his expression into a bored look as she handed the box to him. He stared at it as if it might explode the second he laid his fingertips on it.

She waved it at him. “Well, take it.”

“What is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “It's a gift. Come on, I thought you were smart. Just take it.”

He shook his head and ignored the strange feeling in his chest. No one gave him gifts, ever. Why would they? Hell, it felt awkward as fuck. “I don't want it. Just keep whatever it is.” He stepped around her and took a seat at his desk as he finished stacking his papers and locking up the important documents that he wouldn't want some succubus to get in to.

“Well, I'll tell you what. Either take the gift and open it now or I'll take off my dress and show you my new matching bra and panty set.”

His jaw dropped like a falling elevator. What the hell?

She was just playing games with him now. He slammed his finger into the intercom button and commanded Kearnyn to get his slow ass up here now. He ran a stiff-fingered hand through his hair and started making a few extra notes for his trip when she marched in front of the desk and planted her hands on it.

The gift dropped on top of his desk with a soft thud. “It's a matching underwear set. I bought a few actually in black, yellow, red, and pink. But this one I bought just for you.” Her hands teased along the edge of her dress, fingers slowly curling around the fabric as she lifted it just an inch up her thighs.

Telal dug his pen harder into the paper, but he couldn't ignore what he saw from the corner of his eyes—

and neither could his cock. It swelled and sprung up to life like it saw a woman for the first time.

The dress continued its assent, going up a little bit higher. Her voice turned sultry, a little husky. “This one is blue like your hair—my favorite color. Soft lace, a thong that sits right on my hips, between my cheeks,” she said, whispering now. His eyes no longer strayed but stared at the skin she revealed like a servant obeying his master. Slowly, moving like a dancer, she turned around to show him the curves of her ass as her hands worked that soft material up and up.

His cock shoved against the zipper trying to escape, and damn if he didn't want to help it do just that. He curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for himself. He never jacked off.

“The bra cups my breasts lightly like a warm hand, pushing my breasts high and so close together they nearly kiss.” Her hips swayed side to side in a subtle rhythm as the dress reached the tops of her thighs. His breathing grew ragged. He wanted to see her ass again, had to see it again. Sweat formed on his brow but he ignored it and listened only to the sound of her smoky voice and the pounding of his heart.

“And the panties,” she said slowly pulling the fabric over her round cheeks, baring to him the dip from thigh to cheek. “Slides smoothly right...up...the middle.” All the air whooshed out of him as she finally lifted the dress all the way, brazenly showing off her bare, rounded cheeks with a strap of blue lace tucked between them. Heart pounding like a heart attack, he licked his dry lips just as the office door shot open.

Her dress quickly dropped back into place and she turned around to him with a sweet smile. She looked pointedly at the box on his desk. “Open it and yes, I am going with you.” Then she waved at Kearnyn and left.

“Sir...what do you need?”

It took him several moments to gather a coherent thought that didn't involve the words 'ass' or 'smooth' in it. “Nothing. Get out of here.” Kearnyn nodded without question and left.

The image of her perfectly shaped ass wouldn't get out of his head. Neither would his stiff cock go down. “God dammit.”

He picked up the stupid box and tore the thin red string wrapped around it and tossed off the black lid. He stopped at what he saw. Inside the box read Mont Blanc. His fingers trailed over the object that sat in velvet casing and then he plucked it out of its fitted cushion.

It was a pen. Black, not too slender, and it fit in his palm comfortably. The tip looked like a quill feather, an old-fashioned fountain pen that required an ink well. It weighed in his palm, neither too heavy nor too light. He took out a fresh piece of paper and scribbled a random sentence on it.

Shit.

She'd bought him a pen, and it was perfect.

CHAPTER 12

The summons came at precisely meal time. Workers had gone home to their families, the royalty were preparing for another grand meal, and Arianna couldn't figure out what to wear.

“Wear the black dress,” Celine said.

“But he is black, what if he prefers that color? I don't want him to like what I wear.”

Celine nodded in agreement. “Then just wear the cream one. It's bland and the plainest dress you have. It even has sleeves, but hurry, you don't want to make him wait.”

“Yes, the cream will do.”

Somehow as Celine helped her into the dress, she had yet to feel any real panic. She felt nervous, of course, but none more so than if she were meeting a “normal” demon male for dinner. She had a feeling though that once she saw him all that would change.

The cream-colored dress billowed around her feet in a circle; it clung snugly to her waist and hips and fell off the shoulder where the fitted sleeves covered her arms and wrists by a single loop of material around her middle finger. Truly it was the simplest in color and design, but she felt like she was going to the king in nothing more than her bare skin.

“Do you think he'll be kind?” Arianna said, trying her best to keep the tension out of her voice.

Celine finished buttoning the long row of buttons that went from her lower back to between her shoulder blades, then stilled. “I...I don't know. I can't lie to you and say yes, Ari.” Her voice clogged over with emotion. “If-if he tries anything, don't be afraid to run. I'll be here.”

“Oh, Celine.” Arianna spun around, wrapping a tearful Celine in her arms. “It won't be as bad as that.” She kept her tone positive, but inside insecurity rained like a thunderstorm.

Another brisk knock came at the door. “Coming,” Arianna said. She gripped Celine's hands one last time then gave a quick nod and a smile. “I'll see you soon.”

Celine nodded fast, her hand covering her mouth, eyes wet with tears. Arianna went to the door and opened it.

“His royal highness, Alrik Gravier Demuzi, is awaiting you.”

Arianna did a slight curtsy then followed the steward. She kept her facial features relaxed, her lips curled up in a hint of a smile, but inside her heart thundered, her muscles twitched with the need to run.

If this happened a thousand years before, and Alrik asked her to dinner, her response would be entirely different. Happy, thrilled, honored. Alrik was incredibly handsome in his prime with a rugged appeal that she'd always preferred. While his brother Telal was also handsome, he had cleaner, more aristocratic features. Where Telal's blue hair had always been long near his shoulders, Alrik kept his more curly hair cut just below his chin. His hair used to be a beautiful auburn, red with brown tints; his skin shone with golden brilliance characteristic of the Demuzi royal line, and even his eyes were violet. A brilliant, vibrant purple hue that glittered when he looked at you.

Now so much had changed. Everything changed after the war. Violet eyes turned black, auburn hair and skin turned to coal. In good light, one could see the piercings he wore. The royalty had gasped in protest when they'd seen what he did to his lips, nose, eyebrows, and ears, which now held studs and hoops of silver or gold. Not one of them dared to say a word.

“This way,” the steward said.

Arianna blinked as she remembered she was on her way to see him. He wanted to dine with her. For what purpose? He knew she was spoken for. He couldn't possibly be interested in her.

The steward turned down a hall away from the banquet hall. Arianna crossed her arms as if that might somehow protect her. “Where are we dining at?”

“Your highness has requested your meal to be served in the royal dining room.”

She stifled her panic as her mind screamed in warning. The royal dining room? Shit, shit, shit. The royal dining room was the most secluded dining area in the castle, reserved for royalty or elite guests alone. Though, she had to say it really didn't surprise her that he'd use it for something like this. Alrik did what he wanted, when he wanted.

They came upon two stalwart wooden doors with golden handles. He grasped the handles then pushed the groaning doors open. A small breeze flowed over her, rustling her dress and hair. At the last second, she remembered to put her arms back down at her sides and unfist her hands. Look calm, be calm.

The steward stepped to the side and bowed his head down. “After you, my lady.”

Arianna walked into the lavish royal dining room, her eyes widening at the pure luxury of the room. She had never been in the room herself, but she'd heard about it. It was rarely used anymore, if at all. She was surprised to find no dust or webs in the shadowy corners.

The room shined to an immaculate sheen. The floor was covered in a large hand-woven rug that spanned the length of the room in maroon and black diamond shapes. The ceiling was white and engraved with gold silhouettes of men with swords, women with baskets or children in their arms. She could have snorted at the blaring inaccuracy. What it should show is men and women drinking out of gold cups, wearing expensive finery, and laughing at the poor.

Two massive chandeliers hung over the incredible long length of the table. Her surveying stopped as she saw who sat at the end of that table.

“Are you quite ready now?” Alrik asked in a low voice.

Arianna took a deep breath and went to her knees, her head bowed. “Your highness, I apologize for being tardy.” She couldn't quite keep the stutter of fear out of her voice.

“Sit down,” he demanded.

Arianna nodded and scooted back to sit on the floor. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, head low as possible, which made her neck protest in pain.

“I meant...in a chair.”

Flushing with embarrassment, she started for a chair. She had to slow her steps though because she was practically running. Two dining places were set. One at the far head of the table where he sat and one right next to him. She swallowed hard as she neared the seat. Protocol stated that he should rise and pull the seat out for her, but he didn't.

Arianna didn't meet his eyes as she went to the back of the chair, grabbed the sides of it, and pulled—it barely moved an inch. Turning her face away from him, she squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her lips tight as she pulled with all her might to move the massive chair.

Suddenly a big, surprisingly warm hand enveloped hers. Her eyes popped open to see his hand touching hers. With a quick pull, he scooted the chair out then sat back in his.

Arianna delicately took her seat, but the chair was pulled out so far that she had to sit at the very edge of the cushion, and even then her hands barely met the table in front of her. Without a word, she sat there; her eyes trained forward on her empty white plate with veining gold etchings on the trim, and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

From the corner of her eyes she watched him. He slouched back in his big throne-like chair, one elbow propped up on the arm with his square chin resting on his fist, eyes watching her with keen interest. His legs were kicked out before him, one knee bent more than the other. He wore black again, not a surprise there. A black jacket with black pants and black leather boots that came up to his knees. Unusual attire for royalty, but not for him.

The silence drew on until she couldn't handle it any longer. “Your highness, I apologize for being late.” She winced as her words held a biting edge to it. She could already see her fate flashing before her eyes—she'd end up like that prisoner she saw the other night, begging for her life after being wrongfully imprisoned.

“You already said that.” His deep voice traveled over the room in a low pitch like a wave. He moved and the candlelight from the chandelier glinted off the metal loop in his lip and eyebrow.

She nodded, clamping her lips shut.

“I...I was under the impression we'd be dining in the banquet hall,” she said quietly, her eyes now studying the design of the empty flute glass next to her plate.

“I wanted us to be alone.”

She swallowed over her raw throat, her hands twined together like she was trying to peel her skin off. “Why?” she whispered.

A soft bell chimed and then a much smaller door than the one she'd entered opened as half a dozen servants came in with trays of food. Arianna sat so straight her neck and back flared in warning as the servants moved around them in harmony, one servant pouring wine into the glasses, and another serving food onto the plates with perfect execution. They left far too quickly for Arianna. Her eyes followed their retreating backs but none of them turned, and even if one had, there was nothing they could do to help.

“Eat,” he ordered.

Arianna grimaced as she eyed her distance from the table. Knowing she couldn't move the chair on her own, she gingerly sat forward to pick up her white linen and lay it across her lap. Then she picked up a gold fork and took a bite of salad. The crunch of the lettuce in her mouth sounded as though it echoed in the quiet room. She swallowed but it felt like swallowing a rock. Her eyes darted over to him to see he hadn't touched his food at all.

Arianna placed her fork down and thought carefully how to word her question. She had to step carefully here or who knew where she'd end up...or what he'd do.

“Your highness—”

“Alrik. You will call me Alrik when we're together.”

Arianna glanced at the massive doors she'd entered with a beseeching glance. Getting her expression back under control, she made her lips pull into a polite smile as she looked back down at her plate.

“Alrik, may I ask why you wanted me to dine with you?”

She held her breath as she waited for him to answer. Eventually though she had to take a breath or she'd die right there sitting next to the king. She told herself not to look, but her curiosity got the better of her, and soon her eyes trailed over the fine table cloth, up his broad chest, and to his eyes.

He watched her.

“I've decided on something that involves you.”

Arianna cringed at the vague answer. Dammit she wanted to crawl over that table and slap him or shake him until he told her what he wanted with her.

When he said nothing more she made herself chew the tasteless salad and drink her wine, at least that wasn't a hardship. She downed her glass without any thought to being polite and taking delicate sips as she should. When the bell chimed again, the servants came out to refill their drinks, remove her half-eaten salad and his untouched one, and serve steaming cuts of meat, potatoes, and vegetables from a golden platter.

As a servant stood between her and the king, Arianna quickly picked up her just-refilled glass of wine and swallowed the entire glass. The servant didn't even bat a lash and refilled the glass without a word.

Arianna's eyes watered as the liquid pushed past her throat like a big ball. She looked away, blinking fast and delicately coughed as quietly as possible. That didn't work, and what started as a little itch in her throat turned into an irresistible scratching.

She kept her head turned away as she coughed—hard, loud. A few tears slid down her face as her head felt like extra air got squeezed inside her skull and lungs. After a good eight, choking coughs, the tickle finally stopped. Gasping, she looked over at the king. Of course he watched her. He probably invited her here tonight to get some kind of secret pleasure over her embarrassment.

“You should drink more slowly.”

A fierce blush blazed across her cheeks. “What is this that involves me?” she said in a hoarse voice.

He finally lifted his head off his chin, only to drum it on the arm rest. Dum, dum, dum, dum.

“Eat,” he ordered.

Arianna closed her eyes to keep from grinding her jaw. With all the grace her mother had taught her, she cut her slice of meat into tiny pieces and ate. The meat tasted like paper, the potatoes tasted like paper, and yet she knew the cream sauce over the meat would normally be delicious and the meat tender and juicy. She took as much as she could before her stomach rolled like she was standing on a boat with too much liquid in her stomach.

She set down her knife and fork and sat straight up in her chair. Her bottom had turned numb within minutes of sitting down but now it bordered on a stinging/burning sensation. She tried to keep her eyes trained forward, to make him give in and say something, but that only lasted for about two minutes.

Her gaze slid boldly to his and stared right back at him. One dark eyebrow lifted just a fraction. As if he had been waiting for her to meet his gaze, his eyes fell to her bare neck and shoulders as if memorizing or studying her shape, and then dropped lower to her arms, her waist, and her legs. She barely refrained from crossing her arms across her stomach.

The soft bell chimed again. Servants came to clear their plates, refill the wine, and set a tall glass with creamy cold mint in it. They left and she ignored his look. She hoped she could at least taste this dessert; it was her favorite. She picked up the small gold spoon on the glass’ plate and scooped a tiny amount onto it. She ate it and smiled. Cold creamy mint with a hint of sweet vanilla melted in her mouth and slid down her throat. She took another bite and another. When her spoon clinked against the empty bottom of the glass, she frowned.