CHAPTER THIRTY
30
Elara
What else could Xul possibly crave from me? What further sacrifice does he believe I have left to offer?
Oh, the great “unbanishment.” No longer ostracized, yet, as always, his “act of mercy” comes with a hefty price tag – me.
He knows precisely what he’s doing, doesn’t he? Not only did he not revoke his banishment, but he issued a strict decree to my mother – the magical bangles remains firmly affixed to my wrist. Utterly perverse. It’s as if he’s been peering into my soul, deciphering every thought, every emotion. Because frankly, Xul couldn’t care less about magic or its application. He’s not supposed to. He’s not supposed to meddle. And, most importantly, he’s not supposed to care.
Now, I’m just as useless as I always proclaimed myself to be.
Plain Elara Vance. No magic. Check.
No escape. Check.
And could it possibly worsen? Oh, it most certainly does. Xul, with those obsidian eyes as dark as his stoic facade, requires my constant presence. Not merely needs me, but actively desires me there. For him, that must be a monumental “must.”
I’ve attempted, with all my might, to mask my annoyance and frustration, even offering an apology. Only to be met with the ultimate punishment – the withholding of my very lifeblood, my magic.
If he believes he controls me, if he thinks my mother is the sole option due to her being the only one capable of removing this wretched bangles, then… sighs damn him, he’s right. I loathe to admit it, but he is.
The frustration gnawed at me. The witches’ council was a dead end. Mom, still loyal to Xul, wouldn’t budge on helping me remove the curse. Asking Xul himself was out of the question – the very thought ignited a fresh wave of loathing. And Viktor? Absolutely not.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself back to the present.
Maybe I’d been a fool, using that word – “wholeheartedly” – with Xul. Now, he likely interpreted it the wrong way. But as always, denial was my first defense.
“I apologize, Prince Xul,” I said, injecting a begrudging dose of respect into his title. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, you do,” he countered, his face an infuriating mask of neutrality. It was impossible to tell if he was serious, teasing, or simply playing some cruel game. Unlike most couples, Xul and I had never indulged in playful banter during our long, fraught history. So, perhaps he meant exactly what he said.
“No, I truly don’t!” I insisted, my voice rising a notch.
The air seemed to crackle as he held my gaze. The unspoken threat in his stillness sent a shiver down my spine. “You said you’d accept my punishment wholeheartedly,” he reminded me, his voice a low rumble.
The way he phrased it – “my” punishment – was both infuriating and strangely intriguing. I saw the game he was playing, the deliberate ambiguity of his words.
“Yes, I did,” I conceded. Mom’s teachings echoed in my head: serve, obey, and stay silent. Now wasn’t the time for arguments. But a rebellious fire flickered within me, urging me to defy Xul. Yet, the intensity of his stare held me captive, a prisoner in his own unsettling presence.
Crimson heat flooded my cheeks as he slumped back into his obsidian throne, his head resting against the high backrest.
Every muscle in his perfectly sculpted form seemed to relax, the raw power of it all momentarily sending a delicious shiver down my spine. Focus, Elara! I reminded myself sternly. He can read minds now, especially mine. The more I fought this infuriating attraction, the stronger the urge to flee became. Especially with him here, his presence both intoxicating and overwhelming.
“Prove it to me, then,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. Prove what? How many times did I have to validate myself? A cynical part of me wondered if this was his way of initiating conversation, a way to bridge the tense silence between us. But gods forbid, I sincerely hoped “prove” didn’t translate to some twisted expectation of… sex. Absolutely not.
Xul couldn’t be so crass, could he? With my limited knowledge of the man, I couldn’t be certain.
Frustration bubbled within me. As always, his pronouncements were riddled with ambiguity. “But I would like to understand the nature of this ‘punishment’ you have in mind,” I countered, my voice tight. My teeth gritted together as I reluctantly added, “Prince Xul.” Respectful address was a necessity, given his brothers were undoubtedly within earshot.
A slight smirk played on his lips. “The punishment a master gives his student,” he replied smoothly.
Well, that was just… ridiculous. I was no pupil, nor was he my teacher. But for the moment, I had to play along. This charade, whatever it was, demanded a certain… performative compliance.
“Like what kind…?” I pressed, my voice betraying no hint of the apprehension churning in my gut.
“The ‘wrath’ kind,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. Thank goodness it wasn’t sex. At least, not yet.
“Well, unleash your wrath, Prince Xul,” I said, jaw clenched. “I’m ready for whatever ‘wrath-kind’ punishment you have in store.” My voice remained steady, but a prickle of unease danced on my skin. Those tempting eyes, that powerful physique – they were distractions I couldn’t afford.
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. Xul rarely displayed emotions, and when he did, it usually heralded trouble. This was trouble with a capital T.
“Do you want me to announce it to the entire court?” he murmured, his voice a low caress that sent a tremor through me.
I hesitated, caught in a snare of conflicting desires. Was he offering a reprieve from public humiliation, or was there a more sinister motive at play? Even his questions held a veiled threat, leaving me cold with apprehension.
There was nothing to think about. “Yes,” I breathed, the word leaving my lips like a choked sob.
Xul’s response, whether a concession or a crueler form of torment, remained tantalizingly out of reach.
His face, a stoic mask, conveyed a message I dreaded to hear: “Come closer, Elarabeth...” Honestly, the way he drawled my full name sent shivers down my spine – a mix of annoyance and something far more unsettling.
A tremor ran through me, a momentary skip in my heartbeat followed by a churning in my stomach. Xul’s intentions were a mystery, but getting near him – too near – felt like a death wish, a suffocating desire to be consumed. Heavens knew the thought of such closeness would haunt me long after.
Every fiber of my being screamed defiance. I yearned to vanish, to cast a spell and disappear from him, from this room, from everything. But alas, powerless as I was, I remained… utterly, stubbornly useless.
Proximity to Xul was the last thing I needed. Yet, with the weight of watchful eyes upon me, what choice did I have? Plastering on a smile – a brittle mask that barely concealed the turmoil within – I approached him. He sat perched on his throne-like chair, and damn him, his scent…
It was intoxicating. A heady mix of cologne and an intoxicating blend of spices, an aura that seemed to crackle in the air. I inhaled, the air thick with his essence, a potent lure that threatened to steal my breath and left me yearning for more. I could almost taste it, the essence of him clinging to the air. Xul was a drug, and I, an addict on the verge of relapse.
A frantic shake of my head banished the treacherous thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to be the effect he had on me. In fact, it should be the complete opposite.
Years of battling the hybrid within me had honed my resistance, but Xul’s scent was a potent weapon.
Avoiding eye contact felt like a Sisyphean struggle. His very presence was an irresistible force, a siren call that threatened to shatter the walls I’d so painstakingly built. Yet, I clung to that resistance, a fragile shield against the intoxicating storm that was Xul. But I had fought for years, clawed my way to control, and I wouldn’t succumb now. Not again.
His curled finger beckoned, a silent command for intimacy that made my throat constrict. A scream threatened to erupt, a primal protest against the violation of my personal space. Disappearing entirely felt like the only viable option.
Resigned, I took another measured step, the air thickening with unspoken tension. Each deliberate movement echoed in the cavernous room.
His finger twitched, a cruel maestro conducting a symphony of discomfort.
My breath hitched, the space between us shrinking with each agonizing inch. Resistance, once a flickering ember, threatened to be extinguished entirely.
The Brothers of Sin, perched on their gargoyle thrones, cackled with malicious delight. Xul’s cryptic warning echoed in my mind, a chilling premonition.
“Closer,” a husky murmur drifted across the oppressive silence between us. My lips pressed into a thin line as I obeyed, the unwelcome heat of his presence washing over me.
Three seconds, a mental countdown to the inevitable.
Three seconds until the dam holding back my sanity fractures completely.
Three excruciating seconds before he utters the words that would solidify my fate.
Three.
Two.
One.
Just say the punishment, a desperate plea echoed in the cavernous silence. Give the order, and I’ll flee. Or better yet, vanish without a trace.
Minutes bled into an eternity, punctuated only by the oppressive silence. The kind that scraped at my nerves and stole the air from my lungs.
“So...” I blurted, the words escaping in a ragged whisper, “here I am. Waiting.”
He sat on his throne-like chair, an imposing figure even in profile. I positioned myself beside it, a strategic distance keeping his direct gaze at bay. Even a peripheral glimpse of his power could be paralyzing. But close proximity, in any sense, left me feeling raw and utterly exposed.
A low growl rumbled from his throat. “There was no punishment,” he finally conceded.
My jaw clenched. Wait... what? No punishment? Did that mean... freedom?
Not exactly. Standing this close to him was torture in itself. The restriction on my powers, the inability to cast a single spell – that was another kind of torment. But if there truly was no punishment, then perhaps this infernal bangles could be removed. Perhaps I could reclaim my power, weave spells once more.
Finally.
“So, a thank you is in order?” I muttered, the words barely audible. I wouldn’t dare voice such sentiments in front of the Brothers of Sin, let alone my mother.
“Gratitude isn’t your forte,” he replied coolly. A part of me bristled, acknowledging the truth in his words. Thanks and apologies were foreign concepts, offered only under duress, forced through gritted teeth. He’d seen right through me.
“But surely a show of appreciation is warranted,” I pressed, lacing my voice with a touch of defiance. “After all, you’ve revoked not just my banishment, but my supposed punishment as well.” My mother wouldn’t be pleased if I didn’t acknowledge Xul’s actions, considering him both master and teacher. Respect and fear were emotions everyone harbored for him – everyone except me. Sometimes. Especially when I wasn’t forced to endure his presence and look at his infuriating face.
“You don’t ‘thank’ Elarabeth,” he drawled, the emphasis on my former name like a physical strike.
Elarabeth. It was the name I’d shed like a molting chrysalis when I embraced witchcraft and renounced my vampiric past. Human blood held no allure for me, nor did the seductive thrall some vampires reveled in. Elara was mine now, a name my mother had gifted me, one my father had clumsily adorned with a ‘beth’ – a morbid tribute to my late twin, Bethany.
The name Elarabeth was a constant reminder of a life I loathed, a past Xul, with his penchant for the macabre, delighted in tormenting me with. A not-so-subtle reminder that the past, like a bloodstain, clung stubbornly.
“Perhaps I don’t, perhaps I do,” I retorted, the irritation at his words a simmering ember.
“You don’t,” he countered, his pronouncements as chillingly simple as they were cryptic, mirroring the darkness that clung to him like a shroud.
“I despise your constant assumptions,” I hissed. “But gratitude isn’t…” My voice trailed off. There was no point in fanning the flames. “Thank you for… rescinding your pronouncement.” As usual.
“Rescinded nothing,” he cut in, his voice devoid of warmth.
“But you lifted the banishment, the…”
“Elara Vance,” he murmured, finally relenting the full use of my current name. Yet, the way it rolled off his tongue, each syllable deliberate, sent a shiver down my spine. A darkness clung to him, a predator sizing up its prey. I held my breath, waiting for him to continue.
“You still have a debt, Elara. An indelible one. And should it ever slip my mind, the penalty is… well, let’s just say your punishment involves a rather intimate exploration of human anatomy. By way of copulation, to be precise.”
Copulation? Now he was resorting to vulgarities. How utterly uncouth.
“Now you want sex?” I blurted. “I’d rather endure my punishment than be… copulated by you,” He could have his pick of millions: willing vampires, witches, humans… any creature unfortunate enough to catch his eye. I was no exception, no prize. The very notion of Xul, of all beings, yearning for my body, for something as primal as sex, was ludicrous. We’d never been… involved. Not in that way.
“No,” he countered, his response as enigmatic as ever. Was he toying with me? Xul wasn’t one for frivolous games.
If not sex, then what?
As if sensing my confusion, he spoke again, his voice a chilling caress. “I want something more from you.”
More? The ambiguity did little to quell my apprehension. Even if I could decipher his cryptic words, the only answer that made any sense was sex. After all, his brethren, the Princes of Sin, were a notoriously hedonistic lot. Surely Xul wasn’t any different?
“Something more?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you suggesting… us? Together again?” It was a desperate attempt to piece together his fractured pronouncements.
He remained silent, his lack of response fueling my suspicion. “No way,” I breathed. “There’s no way we’re getting back together. It’s simply… impossible—”
“Enough!” he roared, his voice a thunderclap that shattered the air.
“Absolutely not,” I spat, my voice laced with defiance. “Let’s be perfectly clear, Xul. Strangers. That’s all we are, and that’s all we’ll ever be. No more, no less.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “You forget, Elara, it was you who accepted my invitation. Remember the terms of my offer?”
A sardonic glint flickered in his eyes. “I never proposed anything more, Elarabeth. You’re the one who readily accepted my invitation, remember my offer?”
“Damn right I remember,” I hissed, the memory a bitter pill on my tongue.
“Therefore, you have a certain obligation to fulfill your end of the bargain.” His voice held a dark undercurrent, a veiled threat that sent shivers down my spine. “Consider it... part of the retribution.”
Understanding dawned on me, a sickening realization blooming in my gut. “And that retribution is...?”
“Patience, darling,” he purred, his voice a low rumble. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just be prepared when the moment arrives.”
There was a raw, predatory gleam in his eyes. I knew better than anyone how to rile Xul up. Emotions. Never, ever play with his emotions. It only unleashed a darkness best left untouched.
But with stubborn defiance, I countered, “And when it comes, I’ll be ready.”
I saw what he was trying to do. He wanted to exploit my vulnerabilities:
Pain.
Power dynamics.
Coercion.
Emotional manipulation.
Submission.
And yes, even the undeniable lure of his touch.
He wasn’t over me. It was written all over him: his voice, his posture, his actions, this twisted “punishment.” Everything about him screamed it.
A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “...You better be ready, Elarabeth.”
The sound sent a tremor through me, a delicious mix of apprehension and… something else.
My gaze flicked to the Brothers of Sin (Cassian, Vorax, Malek, Rafael to be precise) who were attempting to drown out our conversation by sinking their fangs into the thighs of their human playthings, resuming their blood feast. The irony wasn’t lost on me: true blood was what truly turned Xul on.
One thing was certain about the Brothers of Sin: they were notorious liars, dangerous predators who craved blood and indulged in carnal pleasures with humans.
But Xul... he went a step further.
He was the most ruthless of them all.
His brand of cruelty was… different. More calculated.
And a horrifying realization dawned on me: Elarabeth Vance, you utter fool, what have you gotten yourself into?