Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
BEAST
“She is nothing like what I expected,” I confess quietly.
“What did you think a consort would be like?” Romulus asks, his chains silent as he speaks. He’s calm now after feeding, and for once, the dungeon rests in blessed quiet.
I allow myself to relax as I consider his question carefully. “Truthfully, I had little time to contemplate it. She appeared at my cave, and I intended to... dispatch her like all the others who came seeking.”
“But you didn’t. Why?”
I exhale slowly, the sound echoing off stone walls. “She was so... fragile.”
“Most mortals are, compared to you, Abaddon.”
I pause, struck by his observation. “She was different from the rest. I could sense her intent wasn’t.
..” I struggle to find the precise word.
Language has never been my strength. Since Creator-Father’s death, I’ve rarely had cause to use it.
Finally, the right term comes to me. “Predatory. She genuinely sought help.”
“Help?” Romulus chuckles, though there’s no malice in it. “From you?”
I shrug, somewhat embarrassed.
“And you chose to provide it?” Now he sounds genuinely surprised.
I grunt my confirmation. “The others who found that cave came demanding things—proof of my existence, trophies, conquest. But she was the first to offer something precious in return. Gratitude. Respect. So I acted without thinking and made her my consort as payment for the healing. Then we came here. And now I...”
“Now you have a consort you’re completely bewildered by.”
“I know perfectly well what to do with a consort,” I retort defensively.
Romulus snorts. “I wasn’t questioning your physical capabilities, Abaddon. I meant when you’re not... intimate with her.”
This time, I’m slower to respond because he’s struck upon something true.
I cannot spend every moment in bed with her, though the thought has considerable appeal.
Perhaps I should experiment with keeping her there longer.
I’ve never tested how quickly my body can recover between encounters.
There was never a reason to discover such things. Until now.
“I provide for her,” I say, though she rejected the bear meat. The memory still puzzles me.
“Feeding and lovemaking can only occupy so much of each day,” Romulus observes with his characteristic insight.
I grunt in agreement, knowing he speaks the truth.
“Have you considered simply talking with her?” he suggests.
I frown. “Talking?”
He performs that curious upward eye motion, and I notice it immediately. “What does that gesture signify?”
“What gesture?”
“That movement with your eyes. My consort does the same thing. I assumed it was some affliction of yours.”
He repeats the motion deliberately, and I nod. “Yes, exactly that!”
He mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite catch, so I lean closer. Perhaps unwise, given his chains and my possession of the key. I pull back cautiously.
But he doesn’t strain against his bonds or reach for the key. His voice remains patient, almost gentle. “You’re hopeless, brother. It’s a cosmic injustice that I’m trapped with this curse while you roam free.”
The bitterness in his voice is unmistakable. I feel a stab of guilt, though mostly I shudder at the thought. I wouldn’t trade places with him for anything in existence. Especially now that I have a warm, wonderful consort to cherish, while he remains bound in this cold dungeon.
“I’m sorry, Romulus.”
He clenches his jaw and stretches his neck. The parasite sleeps now but won’t remain dormant much longer.
“I despise pity,” he grinds out through gritted teeth.
I straighten immediately. “Then you’ll receive none from me. But please, brother, I’m asking for guidance. This consort—” I gaze toward the rough stone wall, gathering my thoughts. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered. She doesn’t flee from me in terror. Doesn’t scream at my appearance.”
No, instead she screams directly at me in defiance, challenging me with those tiny, endearing teeth that look like they’ve been filed to harmless little points.
“Talk,” Romulus repeats patiently. “Ask her questions. Listen to her answers. Then ask more questions. It’s called conversation. Like what we’re doing right now.”
I actually laugh at that suggestion. “But you’re my brother. And she is...”
His eyes perform that upward motion again. “Yes, yes, she’s your consort. Talk to her anyway. If you’ve found a woman who doesn’t recoil at the sight of you, then treasure her company, you fortunate bastard.”
I frown and rise to my feet. The parasite is growing restless. I should leave before it awakens. “You possess wisdom about many things, brother, but in this, I believe you’re mistaken. Consorts require guidance and structure. Not casual conversation.”
“Says who?” Romulus challenges sharply. “Creator-Father?” His eyes darken as he strains against his bonds again. His teeth clench as he fights for control. “Because that philosophy served him so well.”
I bare my teeth at him for daring to suggest such a comparison. “I am nothing like Creator-Father.”
Romulus manages a grim smile, then raises his forearms, showing the hell-metal chains that bind him from elbow to wrist. “Are you so certain about that, brother?”
The question hits me like a physical blow. With a frustrated growl, I spin away from him and storm toward the dungeon entrance. I ensure the door slams behind me loudly enough to wake his sleeping torment.
Cruel, perhaps.
But I’ve never pretended to be anything other than the monster I am.
Yet as I climb the stone steps toward the inhabited levels of my castle, Romulus’s words echo in my mind. Talk to her. Ask her questions. Listen to her answers.
The suggestion seems so simple, yet so foreign to everything I understand about the proper relationship between a powerful being and his consort.
But then I remember the way her eyes light up when she speaks passionately about something. The musical quality of her laughter. How animated she becomes when explaining concepts I don’t understand.
Perhaps... perhaps there’s wisdom in my brother’s counsel after all.
Maybe I don’t need to command her respect and obedience.
Maybe I could simply... earn it.
The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating.