Chapter 7
“It isn’t a bad thing for you to have a taste of how vicious I can be.” The decadent strokes had not ceased, Cyderial already having plugged me full, having bathing his blood from my flesh, and now he drew a brush through my long hair while I stared at myself in the mirror.
I could not bring myself to meet his gaze in the reflection.
Not after how he so fully submitted me. How he frightened me.
“There will be times you grow anxious from this world that is so new to you. When they come, remember who you are mated to.” It wasn’t pride that shaded his low-spoken words; it was power. “There are reasons humans both fear and adulate what I have accomplished in the arena. The world, this ugly city, should they try to touch you, will have to face me. Know what I’m capable of, and let it be a comfort. I swear to keep you safe from all of it.”
But not safe from him.
A man who could do dark things to me and make me like it.
When it grew painfully obvious he was waiting for me to muster the courage to raise my eyes to his, that he would only tolerate my reticence for so long, I found myself embarrassed to be so bashful.
So I braved the inevitable.
Our eyes met in the mirror, and I found the insane man I’d known in my younger years—one of the many facets of his personality—and I questioned my own sanity for not running straight out the door.
This raw version of him was so different than the gentle mate who comforted me in the street. This unmasked side of Cyderial was the killer humans loved to cheer on in bloody battle.
The one who unleashed an unexpected fury upon me in bed.
Who pulled my hair to arch my back. Who gripped me by the throat as he shook my bones with pounding thrusts.
Worse, I was startled by how much I enjoyed it.
Cowed, obedient, feeling small in the shadow of his strength, I let him do as he would.
And liked it.
But I wasn’t sure if I liked who that made me. Abandoning his eyes to look over my burgeoning belly, I found the skin taut. He filled me too much. Cradling the pressure in a bid to distract myself, I subtly arched my aching spine. Pops zipped up from sacrum to neck, my resulting sigh one of relief.
General Cyderial watched me do so with clear pleasure in his lingering gaze—pleasure of the dark variety. Which hinted at how truly debased his longings might be.
A powerful part of him would have known absolute joy to lock me away and play with me at his whim. To overpower me and bend me to his will, feed me what he wished, touch me when he wanted. Have me all to himself.
That energy was a very real adversary in the room.
He had been so tense the previous day just walking me out the door. Would it be such a struggle for him each time? Would he eventually tire of battling with himself and choose the easier path?
Would I even remember my name if he bent me over and took what he wanted?
He’d filled me to the point of discomfort. Would he use that as an excuse to keep me in his home and compel me down his darker path?
The hairbrush was set aside, my gloating mate watching my every breath as he reached for the magic disk that would wind up my hair—hair that was his—and make me pretty.
Just as the merchant had shown him, he placed it in position and activated its program. Long wires began weaving my hair, exposing my naked spine.
Cyderial enjoyed watching that curtain of dark hair slowly unveil the flesh of my back.
Touching where he would with those large, warm hands, he kneaded the stiff muscles at my lower back, whispering, “Deep breath. Let me help you feel better.”
Bracing against the counter, I gasped and felt just how much relief he could give. His understanding of my anatomy, just where to dig in, where to soothe, was inexplicable. How many years, how many journals, had he studied for this very moment? I could only guess.
What knowledge might live in the fixated general’s head? What had ten years of obsession and the constant concern a female with the perfect song might be taken by another done to him?
Another far more satisfying ripple of pops tripped up my spine, tense muscles relaxing under his touch. A sigh followed as my eyes closed, while my bones felt as if they finally found their proper place.
Drawn back to the heat of his chest, he held me in his arms. Warm hands came to my front as he weighed the belly. There, he rubbed much more gently, soothing skin made shiny from the unaccustomed stretch.
A traveling touch drifted to my swollen breast, another between where I pressed my thighs shut against him.
“Let me help you relax, beloved. Just a little more comfort to soothe the sting.” Fingertips found my slit, little circles teasing where I was swollen.
There was no point in resisting when he was in such a mood, not over something he clearly believed was ultimately good for me. Submitting to his small request, my thighs parted just enough to grant him access.
Expecting softness, I reeled when he roughly pinched my nipple and dove several fingertips into my passage. Once inside, he hooked my pubic bone and roughly rubbed at a tender place that sent me right to my toes.
An instant, unexpected orgasm left the flesh of my stomach rippling around their burden. I watched the shape of my belly change in the mirror, eyes wide and mind astounded. Every muscle in my core went crazy, spasms stretching the muscles of my abdomen, contractions clenching at his hand. On instinct, I bore down against his plug, against his rough touch, with all my might and trembled as he gave me the strangest blend of pain-laced pleasure.
No matter how hard I squeezed, how much I writhed, the plug didn’t budge. Nor might I push out the aggressive fingers buried in my cunt. Throbbing, my nipple grew red, and the whole of my insides danced in a way that was beyond my control.
He bit atop the tendon that ran from my shoulder to my neck, and I screamed, climaxing harder than I thought I could bear.
He kept me like that, hanging from his fingers, working some bundle of nerves inside me, my poor nipple trapped in a rolling pinch, his teeth puncturing skin.
A few drops of blood spilled, crimson as they marked my clavicle and breast.
Earlier, it had been his red stain upon me. Now, it was mine.
Yet, no part of my brain thought to panic, not trapped as it was in a growing overload of sensation. The body was not designed to feel so many contrary things at once. From my chest, I rattled out an unbidden call, the musculature of my abdomen moving and waving, my legs shaking, and my arms useless where I gripped his wrist like a lifeline.
The world began to spin, a transcendent burst of fire burning away everything in its path, a different kind of climax that had no end in sight.
The pleasure offered no fulfillment, not like the way he could make me feel when he was inside me or adoring me with his tongue. The waves uncoiling struck places within, reminding my body of what it was and why it was full. Shaking loose tension as I rattled and strained.
It wasn’t until I completely let go that I was swept up and incapable of coherent thought. Only then did he begin to ease off.
My breast ached and my cunt throbbed, ripples still dancing over my belly. I bled from his teeth, but my eyes were bright.
Gently, he soothed my burning breast. Carefully, he pulled his fingers from my abused core.
His tongue laved my wound until I ceased bleeding.
“That’s better,” he whispered at my ear before sucking his fingers clean of my slippery fluids.
Watching his reflection savor my taste, I found myself biting my lip, the whole display indecent.
And I liked it. I liked him obscene.
Heaven, help me.
Who in the hell was I?
I must have said it aloud, Cyderial grinning wickedly as he replied, “You’re my mate.”
A loud smack landed on my ass, my jaw hanging loose when he announced, “Come, let’s get you dressed.”
* * *
Over the years,I had seen Cyderial in his various uniforms. In his home, I saw him in low-slung silken trousers. Never had I seen the male in casual clothing.
It was disturbing.
Normalcy fit against his skin as if hiding what he really was inside. Had I not known him, I would’ve never thought, There goes a man who has ordered the execution of my classmates.
Handsome and approachable, how could that male be the same who offered to give me a human head on a plate?
His sweater was soft, formfitting, thin enough that musculature was on display. Other females would see just how strong he was, how well-formed he might be. The gray slacks were nothing abnormal, but no jacket covered his hips.
Those glutes I liked to grip when he was working deep inside me? They were available for others’ eyes.
Jealousy. I understood the feeling, but I could not fathom where it was coming from. Never before had I looked at Cyderial and felt I owned him. Until now.
Uncomfortable with my unconscious reaction, I ignored it as best as I could.
Chalked it up to hormones and an uninvited mating bond—not at all an acceptable behavior to encourage. However, more than once as I watched him dress, I almost asked why he could not wear his uniform.
And I thought he suspected my discomfort.
“Is there something you want to say?” Nonchalant, the question seemed innocent but was anything but.
Yes. I wanted to say I could control my baser urges and not fall into whatever irrationality this was. “I hardly recognize you.” I could even give him a compliment; that was acceptable. “You look… different.”
His chest rattled in response, and I swear his eyes glittered behind his blond hair as he looked at me. “It isn’t so easy, is it?”
So, he did know. He knew exactly how I felt. I could be honest if there was no point in pretending. “It’s very strange to feel this way.”
“I have been told it fades after fifty years or so, or at least becomes more bearable. I can confirm that, in ten years, I have not once been able to share you easily. I love seeing you beautifully dressed. I love that you trust me enough to take you out with your womb full. But I also hate the idea that anyone other than I may look at your beauty. It’s mine.”
That was what the obnoxious voice in my head kept saying. He’s mine.
And I would never have chosen him, had he not stolen me.
My dress was red but not garish. Long, full sleeves of a floaty material. The neckline cut in a V-shape, yet my breasts were not exposed. The idea was instead to draw the eye to my swollen middle. This garment had been made specifically to showcase the distended belly of a plugged female.
Or a pregnant one.
The remaining, flowing fabric fell to my sandaled feet.
“I have a gift for you.”
Gift? The only gifts I’d ever received were sweets from my mother.
Partly suspicious but far more intrigued, I stopped playing with my skirt and gave him my attention. In his hands was an unassuming rectangular box.
But when his fingers lifted the lid, I found myself more than just intrigued.
I was enthralled.
It was the same sort of pink crystal I had stolen from him all those years ago, set in gold and glittering from a fine chain.
Something beautiful of this world that could only be found in the fog.
My snatching fingers had it before he might set it free, where I dangled it before my eyes, transfixed.
Jewelry. Jewelry was something very special I had seen in the magazines. Sparkly details on the most beautiful pictures.
“Can I help you put it on?”
I was going to get to wear that beautiful necklace. Me!
And I was in a dress. Wearing sandals, not boots. My hair was styled like a human’s, and my lips and eyes were painted in a manner I’d seen in my new magazine.
And I loved it far more than I should when I presented my throat so he could wrap a chain around my neck. When the clasp was closed, I pressed the crystal against my breastbone as if I might make it merge with me and stay forever.
“I never imagined I’d see you so giddy,” Cyderial teased.
He could make fun of me all he wanted. This gift meant a great deal to me—so much so that I had the oddest desire to cry.
Oh my God, I was crying.
That was what damaged psyches did when they were overwhelmed with simple things. Like forbidden, beautiful presents.
It was just a necklace, but if he tried to take it away, I would harm him.
His fingers were gentle atop my fist. “It’s yours to keep, Lorieyn. You don’t need to grip it like that.”
My behavior was completely ridiculous; a rational corner of my brain knew that. I was even embarrassed and knew I was blushing something fierce.
“Do you want to see what it looks like on you?”
I did, but my fist was not getting the message to let go. I wanted to be a normal, healthy person who could function properly, but my entire fucking world had been tilted on its axis, and my brain was refusing.
Still, he urged me toward a mirror, where he stood like a comforting beast at my back. Red dress, upswept hair, skin glittering when the light hit a random iridescent scale.
Brown eyes just like my mother’s.
Clenched fist around a tiny gold chain.
The place where he bit me earlier still bore a faint wound, one that would be faded by the end of the night. Something about that inspired regret.
Gently prying my fingers loose, he said, “Let go now. Take a look. See how it suits you.”
Wrapping my arms below my breasts, I hugged them close and stared at the glittering gem.
Everything about it, I loved. How it had been cut and polished to catch the light. The size of it surrounded in smaller sparkly stones. That it was dainty but still had weight.
In the academy, I would have spent hours just staring at it in my room, just as I spent years of my life staring at the pink geode I had stolen from Cyderial so long ago.
Wiping my cheeks, I said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now.”
He did. “You have needs that could not be met before we were mated. It is less strange than you might imagine to behave this way.”
Basically, he had broken me and now intended to put me back together with pretty rocks, good food, sex, and soft clothing. My sisters… they too would struggle under such an onslaught. The cold, sad truth was that recruits who survived the academy were seriously damaged.
He knew it. Everyone who was going to meet me that evening knew it.
In their turn, they had all been damaged too.
“I like the necklace.” It had to be said, in case he thought to take it away.
Strong arms came around mine, and he hugged me. “I know you do.”