Chapter Three
Asher
N owhere. That was where I was. Nowhere, yet everywhere. This place—full of darkness and light, nothing and everything—felt as if it might bury me in its depths. As if it might never let me leave.
Was it my mind? Was I in my mind?
“Interesting that you assume such a place exists within you, my love.”
What a strange voice. It echoed across the space as if Eternity itself spoke to me. But it was not Eternity. No, I had heard this voice before. How many times had I replayed it in my mind? The embodiment of death, ice cold and disorienting. The very voice that had once told me I was doomed to a lifetime of loneliness, that Bellamy would sooner cut off my head than love me.
“I was right, by the way. He doesn’t love you. He will never love you. Not like you deserve to be loved,” the voice said.
I turned, and there it was, a mere handful of steps away.
The fae-like creature was just as I remembered, hauntingly beautiful and wholly terrifying. Its ears still pointed outwards, pale skin showing a blue blush rather than red. Startlingly white eyes stared as I assessed it, trying to find any differences. The only noticeable change was the shorter hair, which had been messily cropped—the purple strands pointing every which way.
“You cut your hair,” I noted. I did not know why I said something so pointless, but the creature laughed, a sharp melody that made me want to hum a low tune to balance it.
“I did,” it said, face suddenly pinched in discomfort. Had I said something wrong? The war within its face ended just as quickly as it began, and it spoke once more. “I thought maybe you preferred this style.”
That roused me from my confused state. Why would this thing care what I preferred? Who was this? Where was I?
So many thoughts and questions swarmed me, like bees to a hive. I needed to escape. This space that had once appeared to stretch on forever now felt too small, too constricting. My urgency felt far away, like it was not within me, but sat heavily in the air instead. That fear was important, though, because I would die here if I did not get out.
“You won’t die, my love. Please, allow me to answer your questions. I’m not like that foolish prince. I will tell you anything you wish to know,” it said, reaching out towards me but not quite grazing my skin. I did not fail to notice how it refrained from touching me.
“Who are you?” I asked after a moment of hesitation.
The being allowed its gaze to roam down my body, leisurely taking me in. I followed the action, tilting my head down and noting the black slip dress I was wearing. Where had I gotten this? If the creature had dressed me, I would—well, I guess I did not know what I would do. Though it was so very beyond what I normally would have felt, I recognized the resignation slowly building inside of me. The acceptance.
My eyes flew up, squinting at the creature. Once again, I observed how the being in front of me acted as if there was a battle raging within it that it struggled to win. The creature’s hand abruptly fell back to its side, thick muscles tensing.
Its clothes were different too. This time, rather than whimsical yet horrifying black robes, the creature wore a plain tunic with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and tight-fitting trousers. Boots remained unlaced on its feet, a bow strapped to its back. All black.
“My name is Padon,” it said. “ He, Asher, not it .”
“Sorry,” I offered, my brow pinched in confusion. “How do you know my name? And how can you hear my thoughts?”
“I first sensed you not long after your magic manifested, around five years following your birth, but I have been waiting for you for many millennia. Finding you on your wretched world isn’t quite as easy as merely sensing you, it seems.”
Well that was interesting. But before I could ask a new question, he pressed on.
“I’m privy to your thoughts because, while this is not your mind, it is mine . Now, I do apologize for my haste, but there are important things for us to discuss, and little time to do so.”
I nodded, complacent and agreeable and so contrary to how I normally was. Padon chuckled, the sound reverberating in my bones, in my very soul. Without thought, I joined in, my laugh echoing across the space that was both empty and full.
His eyes lit up at my enthusiasm, and then he was against me, our breathing uneven, working in opposition to one another. So different to how in sync Bellamy and I always were.
“Don’t think of him. Not when you’re with me,” he growled. His irises seemed to fade to black, the white hidden behind shadows.
I froze, eyes wide as fear fought its way to me through the sludge of tranquility. But, for some reason that I could not understand, my body and mind refused the emotion. As if nothing but curiosity could hold me.
“I apologize, my love. I have a bit of a temper to me, but for you, I’ll work on it.”
Padon leaned down, brushing a piece of my hair behind my ear and stroking the ruined tip. He was tall, similar in height to Henry and maybe two inches taller than B—another male I knew.
“Good. That was so good, Asher. You learn quickly.”
His finger met the underside of my chin, skin cold as ice, and my head was tilted up until our eyes met. The breath whooshed out of me as if I had been hit in the stomach. I knew him. Somehow.
Had he visited me before that night near the Forest of Tragedies?
Padon smiled, those too-white teeth flashing quickly before he leaned in. I thought he might kiss me, but it was as if my body could not move to get away. There was no dodging the affection, no running from the creature before me.
Cold lips met the skin above my brow, and I felt myself relax. Whether it was due to the fact that I was not being forcibly kissed or the ease and comfort his presence brought me, I was not sure. The latter was what finally brought a modicum of fear into my being, though it was gone as quickly as it came.
“You say love as if you did not warn me against allowing others into my heart mere months ago,” I said, the trepidation leaving me in favor of amusement. Something was wrong, horribly so. Yet those feelings of terror and distrust that had guided me since leaving The Capital seemed just out of reach.
“Well, honestly, the goal was to get you away from the princeling. You deserve more than him. I’m no mere prince, though. I’m an emperor, a god in comparison to beings like him. You were born to be even more—to rule over worlds and creatures of all kinds. To bring them all to their knees. You were born to be mine ,” he said, his voice full of eagerness.
When I looked up, I could not help the words that left my mouth. “Why does everyone seem to think I am theirs? I am no one’s but my own,” I growled, my anger at long last finding me.
There I was.
I pushed away, putting space between us. My body nearly crumpled against the onslaught of emotions, of autonomy, that filled me. The space around me shuddered, fading slightly, and a weight could be felt pressing down on my stomach, not heavily, but enough for me to notice. As if I were being held.
My power came back to me, slowly at first, then all at once. I could sense Padon there, his confusion and love and obsession, as images of me filled his mind. Not the space that we stood in, but his actual mind—where his thoughts swirled with me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me.
Padon let out a heavy sigh then, like a youngling who had their toy taken away for misbehaving.
“It seems we have run out of time, but you’ll understand soon. I promise, my love. One day, not long from now, this will all make sense.” Padon faded to nothing in front of my eyes as he finished speaking.
He appeared out of thin air once more, directly in front of me—our lips grazing ever so faintly. It was a shock to my system, the way he felt against me. He tasted of death, of life, of the universe itself—so cold he burned. Before I could push away again, Padon was gone, and for a moment, I was there alone, witnessing his vision for the future play out in front of my eyes.
An image of him and me, eternally mated. We sat atop ashen thrones, each of us wearing crowns of silver that looked sharp enough to cut flesh. In front of us, thousands upon thousands of fae-like creatures bowed.
A triumphant smile graced my lips as, together, Padon and I raised Bellamy’s decapitated head in victory.
“Soon, my love.”
***
Screams filled the air as I jolted up.
Someone was in danger. Someone needed me.
My arms flailed, reaching for my dagger—for something to protect myself with. To protect everyone with.
The weight on my stomach tightened, and in my ear, a husky voice whispered, “I am here, Princess. I have you.”
Bellamy.
A nightmare—just a nightmare. My imagination was so horribly talented when it came to conjuring terror to wreak havoc in my mind. Still, it had felt so real.
A look down revealed it was his arm around me. I was naked, my clothes likely left behind in the library, but my amethyst necklace still rested just below my collarbones, the silver wiring wrapping it tightly. On instinct, my hand reached up and grasped it.
Bellamy’s hand encircled my own, his thumb rubbing the jagged stone as he sat up with me.
“He will always be with you, Princess. Just as you will always be with him.” He spoke those words with such conviction that I had no other choice but to nod. “Would you like to talk about it?”
I knew he was referencing my nightmare, but I was not eager to tell him about it. Guilt ate at me for dreaming of a creature so vile, the way his lips caressed mine nearly sending me into a panic once more.
It was not real. How could it have been?
Still, I was sure I would never forget the way Bellamy’s head looked in my hand or the smile on my face as I held it.
“Do demons feel the call of Eternity?” I asked, avoiding his question entirely.
I could not talk about what I had seen. What was worse, I could not shake the eerie feeling that Bellamy might not survive me. But if I knew he would end up in Eternity, would hear it beckoning him home one day in the very distant future and choose his Ending, then perhaps I would not be so prone to this fear. Or inclined to imagine him in that foreign world with his head dangling between my fingers.
Bellamy hesitated, as if he was contemplating the right way to phrase his answer, and maybe he was. There was no denying that he still held many secrets, ones which I would not know until I met his king—his father.
I did not assume that something as simple as the afterlife would be one of them though.
“Demons believe that, upon death, one’s magic and soul returns to the home of the gods. That is why we burn the bodies of the fallen. We do not wish to banish them to a lifetime of wandering a world they have left behind, so we release them to The Above. However, demons and fae age differently—vastly so. Demons can, and do, live for thousands of years, but there is a limit to life. The oldest demon I have met was just over two millennia. From what I understand of the death of a demon, there is no call from the ethers when it is one’s time to pass. Demons just cease to exist within this plane.”
It was not the answer I was hoping for. Yet it was exactly the answer I should have expected. Smooth and somewhat vague, not presenting any true answers or reassuring me that he might live long enough to see me end this war before it begins. Long enough to allow me to find him once more. Any future we might have will be far away, a distant thought that might materialize if given time. Though, in his defense, I asked an equally ambiguous and dismissive question.
“What do you believe?” I asked, mustering up the courage I would need for the answer.
This time, he did not pause, did not need a moment to think through his answer.
“I believe in you. I believe that this life is far greater than anything that might occur after because here I have you. Here, I possess the only thing that will ever matter.” He paused, his hand letting go of my necklace to lie flat on my chest. “Your heart.”
That very heart began beating at a ferocious pace, feeling as if it might leap from my chest.
Stupid, sappy demon.
I leaned into his warmth, placing a kiss to his lips. There was a desperation to the love I felt for him, one that had grown in the last few months but had heightened since I realized that this small pocket of time might be all we ever possessed.
I needed him like I needed air, and there was only so long I could go before my lungs gave out.
How he always managed to say the right thing, I was not sure. Perhaps it was the magic of his ancestor, Asta, whose spoken words could convince masses to comply. Or maybe he was secretly a poet. His paintings were the perfect example of his affinity towards the arts, so I would not be surprised if he were.
I could easily picture him hiding in a dark room while writing sonnets about how annoying Henry could be and the art of ripping hearts from the chests of one’s enemies. Or how much he adores whoever discovered kohl. Composing the music for that one would have to be my job, as I also owed thanks to that individual. There were not many things that could beat the way his eyes looked when lined with black.
Bellamy was quick to deepen the kiss, his tongue hot against mine. One hand cupped my cheek while his other slowly trailing up my leg. When his fingertips hit my inner thigh, a low moan slipped from between my lips. He continued to tease, drawing designs on my skin that I could not quite decipher—like I was his newest canvas, ready to be made into something beautiful by him.
Of course, the demon had grander thoughts.
“Wait here,” he whispered against my lips. I groaned, reaching for him as if I could force his body to remain in the bed, but he was up before I could latch on to him.
His ivory skin glowed in the morning sunlight that streamed through the many windows gracing the far wall. Every inch of him was made up of hard muscles, his back dotted with freckles and covered in those strange tattoos. He was glorious, his body far more magnificent than any painter could dream of creating.
As he disappeared through a far door, I found my eyes roaming over the room. I had not taken it in before, but it struck me how stunning it was in that moment. Dazzling, but so utterly opposite of The Elemental.
The walls were a startling white shade, bright and beautiful and blank. The sheets below me were made of a bright blue silk, as light as the sky on a clear summer day. All around the room was furniture in the same blue shade, covered in intricate designs that held the remaining three colors in the demon sigil. Plant life thrived, vines crawling up the walls and wrapping themselves around the ceiling. Rather than looking unkempt, the plants appeared intentional, like a form of decoration that brought fresh air and earthy smells.
If these were Bellamy’s chambers, they were nothing like who I knew him to be—nothing like the foreboding castle I had gotten lost in many times during my stay in Haven.
Bellamy came back into the room then, carrying a blank canvas and an easel. I blanched, quickly yanking the silk sheets over my naked body. He merely chuckled and set the easel down near the center of the room, placing the canvas upon it.
My eyes tracked his every movement, watching as he went to a white desk in the corner farthest from the enormous bed I lay on. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, opening drawers and pulling out various vials of paint.
At one point, the demon turned around, lifting a brown and a yellow up. One of his eyes scrunched closed as he held the colors out, looking as if he were pointing them at me. Then he turned once more, sifting through them all until he had everything he needed. Piling his supplies into a wooden container, Bellamy grabbed a stool and dragged it across the room. He perched atop it in front of his easel, then he flashed me a wicked smirk, eyes alight with the heat of his own arousal.
“Will you let me paint you, Princess? Will you allow me the honor to commit you to memory—to immortalize you with the stroke of my brush?” Oh, he knew how his words sounded, what the innuendo did to me.
How could I think when he sat there completely naked and hard as steel? I wanted to melt, to beg for him. To do anything but lay on the bed nude and allow him to paint every one of my flaws.
“Where will you hang such a scandalous piece? The throne room?” I asked sarcastically, the panic inside me causing my head to swim. I needed time to figure out how to get out of this without showing him how foolishly insecure I was feeling at the mere thought of it.
The demon simply tilted his head to the side in that frustrating way he always did, waiting for me to lower the sheet.
I would rather be splayed out on a table in front of him a thousand times over than feel his keen eyes on me as he paints every soft curve and imperfection of my body. Being vulnerable in that way, allowing him the chance to see more of my inadequacies in startling clarity, was something I could not do.
I was not taught to show weakness. Not raised to be anything but a golden statue to be viewed and used, fitting into whatever space those around me needed. Always hiding every imperfection so no one could see the truths within them.
“Am I so horribly boring that you need paint to act as foreplay?” I asked, trying my hand at more humor.
Something had to give. Something had to get him away from that damn paint. At my words, Bellamy stiffened. I saw the moment his excitement faded to concern, the second his anger began to simmer.
“It seems I have not made myself clear, Asher. So let me say it plainly now.”
Bellamy stood, his black waves a mess and his piercing eyes trained on me. He looked like a beast ready to hunt, and I was his next meal.
His feet were slow, the pace daunting. I swallowed, clutching the sheets closer to my body. What would he say? That he already knows I am not ideal? That he is not stupid, so clearly he is aware of my faults? I was not sure that would make me feel better at all.
“No part of you is less than perfect to me. No curve or freckle or tangle. There is nothing that you can show me that will leave me feeling anything less than obsessed with you.”
He was mere feet away now, a hunger in his gaze that had my stomach doing flips. I could handle this, our bodies coming together in a rush of passion and lust. This was easy in comparison to thinking of the fine details he might add to a painting.
“I will have all of you, Ash. Every part of you is mine, and I love it all. There will be no hiding, no fear, and no hesitation. Not with me. Never with me. You will remember my words because I will remind you every day for the rest of my life.” The words were practically a growl, his deep and heavy drawl slowing in pace.
Then he was at the bed, leaning down with his palms on either side of my hips. His lips met mine only briefly before a gust of cold air hit my body. I screeched, clawing at the receding cover with horror.
“I will have all of you. Now, pose for me like a good princess.”
With that, he was gone, dragging the sheet along with him as he made his way back to the stool. I could feel every roll, every indent and blemish. Every reminder of what I would never be. Everything that he was now looking at with his artist’s eye. I wanted to crawl into a hole, to dig myself a grave and never see the light of day again.
“Lay down horizontally across the bed and close your eyes,” Bellamy rasped as he sat down on his stool once more, unfazed by his own nudity. For once, I immediately did as I was told, shutting my eyes tightly as I shifted on the bed. “Relax. Breathe. Just focus on the sound of my voice.”
I nodded, trying to loosen up my limbs, to release the tension that had built up in my body from the moment he entered with that canvas and easel in tow. I draped one hand above my head, marginally hanging off the bed, and the other rested near my collarbone.
Breathe. Relax.
“Have I ever told you about the way your eyes sparkle when you look at me?” he asked.
I huffed in annoyance at his self-importance, though he was technically right. I did enjoy the sight of him.
“No? Well have I told you about the way your head falls back when you laugh? Or the indecent sway of your hips as you walk?”
I was not sure what he was doing, but his comments made me feel lighter somehow. As if the words, mixed with the soothing and tantalizing sound of his voice, grounded me. I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed tightly.
“Huh, I really thought I would have mentioned that at some point. I know I must have described in great detail the way your thighs feel when I lift you in my arms, how my hands mold around them as if they are a lifeline. Or the delicious way your breasts rub against my chest. Now, that I had to have mentioned.”
I chuckled at his tone but refused to open my eyes for fear of his scrutinizing gaze.
“Or this, right here,” he said, the sound of a brush scraping the canvas causing my jaw to clench. “The spot just below your belly button. I love this spot. The way you writhe beneath me when I kiss here, how you moan in pleasure. It’s addictive.”
Tension seeped from my body, flowing out of me like the water of a river rushing past a broken dam.
My eyes opened.
He loved it.
My stomach. The same part of me that the castle seamstress had loathed, had complained about making accommodations in my clothing for. The part of me that Mia feared Sterling would hate.
Bellamy loved it.
Our gazes met, my gray staring into his blue, neither of us daring to so much as blink. Bellamy was the first to break eye contact, licking his lips as he turned to the canvas.
We continued that way, him sharing every detail of my body that he adored and me staring at him, until he announced we needed a water break. Ever the wicked demon, he gave me a sultry kiss, forced me to drink, and then left me once more to continue his work.
He announced the completion of the painting by loudly moaning at it as he leaned back, looking quite pleased with himself. I noted how hard he was once again, how he casually stroked himself as he admired his work. It made my cheeks heat and my mind go blank.
I had no idea how long had passed, but based on the ache of my body, it must have been hours. I sat up fully, moving to get a look at the finished art—which only made me vaguely uneasy now that I saw just how much he liked looking at it.
“What do you think you are doing?” he asked.
I startled at his words, falling back onto the bed with my brows furrowed.
“I want to see what all the fuss is about. It better be exquisite,” I responded.
“No, that is not how this is going to work, Princess. My brush painted the canvas, and while that dries, my tongue will paint you .”
There was no time to hesitate or argue because Bellamy appeared before me in a cloud of black, scooping me from the bed. We portaled again, the pain becoming far less noticeable the more we did so.
I burst into laughter as we landed in a full tub, water flying over the sides and splashing onto the floor. It was ice cold, but the demon instantly began warming it, his body heating quickly. I laughed again at his antics as well as the cold.
Bellamy devoured my amusement, his tongue beginning the slow and glorious torment of painting me. He tasted his way down my throat, paying expert attention to the place where my neck met my shoulder. I groaned, my head falling back as his teeth grazed just above my collarbone. I wanted to bottle this feeling and save it for when I would one day be starved of him.
“I thought you could not portal in Dunamis,” I breathed out the words, my mind trying to fight against the storm of lust that was invading it. Bellamy’s chuckle rumbled against my ribs before he peeked up at me through his thick lashes.
“No, I said that we could not portal into Dunamis, but once we are past the wards we can portal within the territory and out of it. Honestly though, I would have found a way to stall us even if we could have portaled straight to the castle. Anything to have even a moment more of your time before the world falls apart, beautiful creature.” I meant to speak, to say something snarky in return, but then his mouth taunted me once more.
True to his word, that wicked tongue of his brushed teasing strokes over every inch of my skin. When he bit down on that area just below my belly button, I did exactly what he said I would. I writhed below him, moaning out his name.
He lifted me onto a ledge that connected the comically large white tub to the wall opposite the many windows, where the light blue curtains were drawn open to reveal the day.
They sure did enjoy sunlight and scenic views in this castle. And there was no denying that the sight was beautiful. The ocean was a stunning teal color, the sky above clear of clouds. More vines poked through the windows, letting in a chilly breeze.
I hummed at the feel of his lips as he kissed his way up my leg, the water below him growing warmer the higher he got. I felt something slide across my shoulder and looked down to see a vine slowly creeping up my arm. When it wrapped around my neck, I gasped, the pressure causing heat to travel down to my core.
With perfect timing, Bellamy’s mouth found my center. His first lick was slow and agonizing, like he wanted to draw out my pleasure for as long as he possibly could. So I lifted my hips, pressing myself further into his face. A growl erupted from his chest, then he was bringing my legs over his shoulders and hooking his arms around my thighs, utterly consuming me.
Every shake of his head and slip of his tongue inside of me had me climbing higher, his name leaving my lips in lust-filled screams.
Tighter and tighter he held me, until I knew that I would bruise under his grasp, while the vine remained hugging my throat like a necklace that I never wanted to take off, adding to my growing pleasure. When two of Bellamy’s fingers thrust inside of me, I fell back against the wall, grabbing onto his hair as if I would drown without him anchoring me.
“Fuck me, Bellamy. Fuck me now,” I demanded, needing him to be inside of me when I fell off the edge.
As if he could hear my thoughts, the prince shot up out of the water, our lips crashing together in a violent kiss.
Separating our lips, leaving me with the salty taste of myself on my tongue, the prince flipped me. He wrapped my hair around his fist and pressed my torso down until my chest was flush with the ledge. I moaned at the mere idea of what he was about to do to me as Bellamy leaned down, his lips caressing the side of my face.
“Spread your legs, Princess. I want to watch as you take all of me,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the jagged top of my ear.
I did as I was told, listening with satisfaction as he shouted praise to me within his mind. Then he was shoving himself inside, filling me up until I swore no more could fit. The angle was delicious, stealing my breath and muddling my mind. Then he was grabbing my wrists, holding them behind me with one hand while the other still gripped my hair.
His first slide out of me was slow, as if he were testing the way it affected me. I did not hold back, groaning at the loss of him and gasping out when he pressed back in. As if that was all the confirmation he needed, Bellamy quickened his pace, his thrusts bruising in their force. With each thrust, he hit that spot inside of me, the one that made my knees shake and my vision swim.
“I love you,” he proclaimed, the words a raspy growl. “I will love you until my final breath and long after.”
The sound of his voice and the declaration he made was euphoric, so much so that I could not help the mumbled three words from leaving my own lips over and over again. He let go of my hair, opting to dig his fingers into my hip as he sped up, the sound of our skin slapping and the water sloshing mingled with our gasped affection.
The vine tightened around my neck, Bellamy’s grip on my wrists tugging until I was hovering over the ledge. For a moment, it felt like the plant was pulsing. Then Bellamy’s grasp tightened, pulling my attention to him. “Now, Asher. Come for me now.”
The erotic way he ordered my release sent me plunging over the edge, the pleasure of my orgasm causing me to tighten around him. Bellamy’s hand gently set me down and the vine let me go as I came down from the high of his touch. Hot lips placed tender kisses to my back while he pulled me to a standing position, hands on my hips as he spun me to face him.
“Breathe, Ash.” His voice had the exact opposite effect in that moment.
Slowly, he turned us, walking backwards until it was he who sat upon the ledge. For a moment, he leisurely trailed kisses south of my lips, taking his time as he pecked and nipped and sucked. His fingertips met my thighs, lazily tracing circles closer and closer to my center. Every one of my nerve endings was aflame as my back arched for even a semblance of his skin on mine.
Then his fingers arrived at their destination and my head flew back on a gasp of pleasure. “Break time is over, Princess.”
I caught sight of his smirk, a single dimple popping into existence on his left cheek. Those blue irises were nearly black, the desire darkening them as he openly stared at his fingers working me. His hardened member twitched when I called out his name, the three syllables a prayer of sorts. Groaning, he tugged me forward, both hands moving to my hips once more to guide my knees onto the ledge. I hovered above him for only a moment until he forced me down onto him. Without missing a beat, he began lifting and lowering me, taking full control once more. I screamed out, unable to stop myself as he drove me to the madness that was this bliss, my nails digging into his shoulders like an anchor seeking purchase.
I felt as he shattered, the pulse of him within me and my name on his lips eliciting a deep moan from somewhere low in my throat.
Madness, that was what it felt like to love and be loved. My mind was consumed by him and everything he gave me. The pleasure, the trust, the freedom. I could lose myself in this—in Bellamy.
Perhaps I already had.