Chapter Fifteen
T rapped.
No. Not again.
This cannot happen again!
I spent too much of my life trapped.
I clench my eyes shut and try to steady my breathing and the rapid beating of my heart.
After stealing a few seconds to get myself under control, I open my eyes again, but before I can formulate a plan, my mate flies by me.
She gets to the Creatori and uses her wind to push her father away. The second the beast is distracted, I can move again.
Like one, Blake and I spring into action. I pull on my magicks and tree roots burst from the ground to wrap around the monster’s feet, holding it in place. Blake uses one blade to deflect its massive claws and the other slices through its midsection.
With how sharp Blakes blades are, that should not be just a shallow cut.
We are missing something.
The Creatori turns its head to me, and laughs.
A disgusting sound that sends shivers of ice across my body.
“Smart fae.”
I blink and it’s as if someone has rewound the scene before me. Blake, Forsythia, and I are all where we were moments ago. The only difference is Orobas is nearly within the monsters reach now.
“No!”
I yell and Forsythia snaps into action.
This time she uses her own body to barrel into her father and knock him out of the way. Blake springs up in front of me and drops his blade right before he can deflect the creature’s claws raking across his arm.
Dropped his blade…
Why would he drop his blade?
My head begins to throb.
That’s not right either.
The beast laughs again and my irritation rises.
What are we missing?
On my next blink, the scene resets itself. Only this time the creature is on top of Orobas, with one of its hands wrapped around his neck, as the other set of clawed fingers caresses the former demon leader’s hair.
Blake is the only one of us to rush forward this time and when he stumbles, I know the truth of this farce.
None of this is real.
The creature is in our heads.
It laughs again and this time the sound feels like fire ants biting across my skin.
I gasp for air and my eyes fly open. I can move my head enough to see all of us are lying down in the clearing we had been resting in.
The Creatori is actually on top of Orobas. Its maw is open as blue wisps drift from Orobas, into the beast. With every tiny amount that drifts into the beast, it moans and grinds its pelvis against the former demon leader. Whether it is taking pleasure from the friction, or from the transference of essence, I truly cannot say.
Unlike the rest of us, Orobas’s eyes haven’t opened. With the disgusting perversion the beast has taken to him, I am grateful he is not coherent during the ordeal.
I want to force myself to look away, but I can’t. I feel the pull to bear witness to his violation.
With every grind, thrust, or wandering touch from the monster, my stomach rolls and my blood boils. The monster slips a hand between them. Whether to rub itself, or Orobas, I am not sure. They moan in unison and I only hope that Orobas dreams of his lost love while oblivious to the ministrations of the beast.
To my knowledge, the monster has never shown any kind of feeling, let alone attraction before. This must be the small remnants of the she-demon that still clings to existence.
“I can feel him slipping away.” Forsythia’s whisper snaps my attention in her direction. Tears are pooling in her golden eyes.
The monster moans deeper and I dare not look, knowing that the moans are indicative of the monster reaching the apex of its pleasure in its disgusting acts. Instead I keep my focus on Forsythia.
The color of her iris begins to pulse and her pupils expand. In mere seconds the black of her pupils have encompassed the entirety of her beautiful eyes.
She opens her mouth and her voice has the same commanding air that I have heard from her only a handful of times.
The voice that brings awe and fear. My body erupts in goosebumps from the sudden chill.
“I will end this.” In one movement she gracefully stands and lifts her arms above her head. “I am sorry.” As she slowly clenches her fists, the sky grows darker. A false eclipse blocking the sunlight.
Sorry? What would she need to apologize for?
Once the eclipse is in place, a strange feeling washes over me. I feel…weak.
I reach down into the earth around me, but can barely encourage the growth of a sprout.
The true power of the Noctifer Witch hits me with a deadly understanding. The eclipse. It mutes magickals.
I hear the monster scream out in frustration and the energy pinning us to the ground lifts almost immediately.
It seems that the eclipse works on the monster as well.
Finally, some good news.
Blake and I move to stand quickly so that we can help our mate.
We may be magickally muted, but we are still warriors in our own right.
The beast lunges at Forsythia and she pushes it back with her wind, sending it tumbling backwards.
With the beast no longer perched on Orobas, I can see that his skin has gone pale. From my distance I cannot see his chest moving.
Blake jumps into the fray of the battle, but I know where I am needed most.
I waste no time checking with the others, trusting them to have my back. I put my faith in their strengths, just as they put theirs in mine.
I reach Orobas’s side quickly and assess his body, ignoring the excessive wetness surrounding his groin, but taking a brief moment to adjust the zipper of his trousers, giving him some semblance of dignity. Other than the evidence of violation, there is no visible damage to his body.
Fuck !
I internally curse, so as not to detract attention from the battle taking place behind me.
That means the monster was siphoning out his magickal essence. That must have been the blue wisps I saw earlier.
I feel his pulse. Shallow but still present. His breathing is also subdued.
He is hanging on, but barely.
I use the tiny amount of my magicks that I can tap into and try to find… I don’t know.
A hole to plug?
I close my eyes tight and hold in the urge to yell out my frustrations.
How can I help him when I have no access to my magicks?
If there even is a way to actually save him.
Fire burns in my belly as that cold reality becomes clear.
There is nothing I can do.
Forsythia will lose her father to the same beast that took her mother.
White hot rage pulses inside me as I pull out my blade in one hand and snatch Orobas’ discarded one in the other.
This has to end.