Chapter Seventeen
Asher
S hah was stunning. Not just because of her bright smile and intricate tattoos, but because of her soul. For so long, I had hated my gifts, thinking them a curse—a plague. But when Shah’s thoughts had screamed out, my power flocking to her like a starving animal seeing food for the first time, I realized how much of a blessing they could be.
While everything went downhill around us, I listened as Shah shared memories and stories of her past. I bore witness to the pain inflicted upon her—both mentally and physically—by her late husband. At a speed that nearly left me lost in her mind, we had sailed through her memories, watching as she grew and matured. Witnessing the increasing panic in her words and thoughts as her parents fell sicker. Feeling the dread weighing heavier and heavier on her heart the days leading up to her wedding.
Shah, as formidable as she seemed beside me at dinner, had been too scared to do anything other than listen. When her parents died days after her wedding to a manipulative and violent lord, she allowed herself to be meek, malleable. Every day for eleven years, she felt more and more of herself being chipped away.
Until one day, she snapped.
I would not tell anyone that Shah had murdered her husband, because she did not deserve to be punished for doling out retribution that was more than deserved. Watching him choke and sputter and whip his hands out as she suffocated him with his own pillow was so satisfying that I nearly pulled out of her mind and jumped with joy.
But then, disaster struck.
The attack started in the middle of the night, nine days after Queen Shah had announced she would not be taking a new consort.
When she awoke to people slaughtering her guards en masse and burning the Behman flag, Shah had been terrified. But she had refused to be weak any longer. Her rabid and desperate screams had rang through the then pristine courtyard as she swung her father’s sword.
The first man she cut down had brought her to tears.
The eighth brought her to her knees.
And when the sun rose the next morning—shining light on the gore-filled courtyard—so did the Queen of Behman.
The next day, with a dislocated shoulder, a sliced thigh, and a vengeful heart, Shah changed the sigil that had represented her home for centuries.
Now, as I walked through her castle, I noted how most of the rooms were still that horrible yellow and green combination. Did it bother her to see signs of what had once been but would never be again? Did she still feel the horrid chill of Lord Starsh, his foul breath and sharp words and heavy hands haunting her as she walked her own halls?
I know I had. I used to think that it was the lack of decoration in the palace of The Capital that made it feel like anything but home. Now though, I wonder if it was my body taking note of something my mind had not—that place would never be anything other than a gilded prison.
Was it the same for Shah?
When we strategized tomorrow, I would have to fight the urge to ask her. The three of us continued through the halls, making our way to the rooms Shah offered us for the night. Bellamy led the way, already having been to the rooms earlier. Wrath would be furious when he realized that we were not coming back tonight.
“You have some serious explaining to do, Daniox,” Henry said from my side. I laughed as he nudged me, the weight that had been on my chest since I first decided we would come here finally lifting.
I did it.
Just as I was about to tell them both to mind their business, seeing as Shah’s story was not mine to tell, a voice that made my nerves skyrocket and my power buzz inside my chest sounded behind us.
“What kind of trickery have you used to sway Shah?” Genevieve was angry by the tone of her words, the volume of her voice slowly increasing as she spoke. “You wretched little monster! First, you steal my brother away from us, and now, you want to attempt to lead the only considerate and honest ruler in the Mortal Realm to her death? Have you not ruined enough of the world yet?”
Her finger was inches from my face, the two of us standing at the same height. Princess Genevieve Windsor was as imposing as she was glamorous. The scowl on her face seemed permanent, though even that did not affect her perfectly painted on cosmetics. Golden curls fanned out from her head, each ringlet silky and soft.
She reminded me so much of Sterling I thought I might be sick. Even the brown of her eyes was that same lovely chocolate color of his. Just looking into them for a moment sent waves of pain through my abdomen, the grimy feel of hands exploring my body making me tense.
Or perhaps it was her words that made my teeth grind and tears prick my eyes. They stung because they were far more accurate than she realized. I had ruined so much, had been the thief of countless lives. The acid in her tone was deserved.
One thing I would not stand for, was her attempting to make her brother out as the victim. I was many things, but Sterling Windsor’s abuser was not one of them.
“Oh, your wonderful, innocent brother. The very one who beat me to near death and threatened to rape me on our wedding night. Truly, what a prize. So glad I stole him.”
Surprise flitted across her face as she stumbled back. Briefly, I wondered what Sterling had been like before he arrived in Betovere last summer. Just as quickly as the curiosity came, it faded away, my anger at the family rising quickly. Genevieve recovered fast too, that scowl pinching her beautiful face once more.
“Yes, you seem to be quite traumatized. Tell me, did my brother’s supposed abuse lead you to the cock of a demon, or had you already been fucking The Elemental before then? What a way to heal, beneath the body of a murderer. Then again, I guess you have killed just as many innocents—”
Henry’s hands lit up, the startling white of his Sun magic burning my eyes. Genevieve squealed as Henry approached her, his anger tangible through his magic.
“How dare you speak to her like that, you inferior mortal! You are lucky to be in her presence, lucky to meet someone as brave as she is!” His shouts drew the attention of four guards clad in the same navy and forest greens as Genevieve. They hastily came our way, unsheathing their swords as they ran.
I grabbed onto Henry’s arm, yanking him back from the princess, who was somehow both terrified and furious—emotions permeating the air.
As the guards flanked her, I felt the presence of their minds, the overwhelming sense of terror too much after listening to the hateful—and undeniably true—words Genevieve had thrown my way.
Bellamy’s hand found my other one, and then we were portaling, my feet moving from the green tile to an ornate yellow rug. With a violent tug, I ripped my hands out of theirs, turning away from them. I took deep breaths, trying to calm my growing anxiety and never-ending dread.
What would we do if Genevieve contacted the remaining kingdoms? There was no way we could convince them to ally with us if she spewed poison into their ears first. Something had to be done about her.
“Henry,” I said through heavy breaths, my hands wrapped around my chest as if I could contain the panic. The Sun bent down slightly, his green eyes meeting mine. I hated what I needed to say to him, especially after he had defended me that way. “Take a breather, get washed up, then go find Princess Genevieve. We have risked everything by treating her with disrespect. Each of us will apologize, beginning with you.”
Henry’s jaw went slack as he stared at me, baffled by my order. But I could not think like a disgruntled or wronged princess. If I wanted to be a queen, I needed to act like one. Which meant swallowing my pride and apologizing to that bitch.
“Go. I have her,” Bellamy whispered from somewhere behind me. With that, Henry offered a curt nod and straightened, stomping to a pair of doors that looked to be the yellow color of moldy cheese. He yanked them open and slammed them closed behind him, the paintings rattling and the green curtains swaying.
The moment I heard Henry’s retreating footsteps fade, I fell to the floor, my body hunching over as I shook. For every success, two failures found me. Behman would side with Eoforhild, but at the cost of many lives. Genevieve had not been wrong about that, nor had she spoken falsely when she accused me of murder. I was a creature that tormented the dreams of mortals across this realm, stories of me reaching far and wide. No matter how much good I brought to the world, the evil within me would always outweigh it.
Bellamy slowly made his way around me, stopping once his shiny, black shoes were in my line of sight. When he gently lowered himself to the floor, his knees nearly touching mine, I had to fight against collapsing.
I could not fail him, not now when I had cost him so much.
Waiting for him to speak my thoughts was agonizing, because I knew that he was thinking the same thing. He had to be.
“Tell me what you need to feel safe,” he whispered, his raspy voice soft. Taken aback, I peered up at him. What I expected to be hateful condemnation was actually loving sympathy, those emotions suddenly projecting my way, his shouted thoughts pushing out my own.
Whatever you need, Ash, I will give it to you. I will steal the stars from the sky and hang them on your neck. I will melt every spec of gold in The Capital and forge something new. I will battle entire armies and lay their swords at your feet. I will do anything for you, if only you let me.
A single tear ran down my cheek, the only one I would let fall. I could not afford sobs of inadequacy and self-hatred right now. Preparing for the meeting tomorrow was what my mind needed to focus on, if I could just clear it. If I could just convince myself that I was capable of accomplishing more than ruination.
I do not know who I am, Bellamy. Everyone thinks something different of me. Wrath deemed me a savior, Genevieve called me a murderer, some think me a monster. I fear I am worse than all of those things. What if I am a curse?
It felt oddly comforting to speak the words, even if not aloud. Especially because it was not aloud. In fact, my near constant use of my power these days had been relieving, too. But nothing could soothe the ache of knowing what I was. Pino had said I would be the end, and every day I grew more convinced he was right.
“It seems you have forgotten, so let me remind you.” Bellamy’s words were less gentle now, the sturdiness of them more forceful than he usually was with me.
His fingers met my skin, reaching under my arms and lifting me to a standing position. Then one of his hands was at my back, straightening my spine as the other lifted my chin. When he slid behind me, he slowly turned my body to face away from the double doors. My knees shook as I took in the room. It was large, the two windows on the far wall closed off with heavy yellow curtains that matched the rug below our feet with green embroidered snakes creeping up to the ceiling.
To our right was a huge, four-poster bed. The wood was dark brown with bright green curtains offering privacy on all four sides, a large brick fireplace nestled in the corner. To the left was an armoire made of the same dark wood, its massive presence taking up every inch of the wall that the small desk beside it did not. Between the two windows ahead was a mirror that reached at least a foot above Bellamy’s head, the width of it nearly twice my size.
The Elemental loomed behind me, his presence demanding, as if I could look at nothing but him in our reflection. His head was turned down, inspecting me as I watched him. It was oddly thrilling standing here this way, witnessing the heated looks the prince gave me.
“What do you see, Ash?” he asked, his sultry rasp sending chills down my spine. Slowly, he slid his fingers up my arms, the featherlight touch a heady feeling.
Gazing at myself, I tried to find the answers he was looking for, but I could not fathom what he saw in me that was so special.
I was pretty, that was not something I would deny. My long brown waves—which had begun to take on more of a curl in my time away from The Capital—cascaded down my back, ending at the base of my spine. My heart-shaped face and big gray eyes fit well with my full lips and tan skin. Despite what the seamstress in The Capital said about my body—and what I myself thought of it—the roundness was highlighted in a beautiful way tonight. The red fabric was perfectly fitted, forming a second skin. The dip between my breasts glittered with the diamond-like gems. Pino was good at making anyone and everyone look stunning, not that he would ever get the chance to do so again.
My heart stuttered in my chest, the pain of that loss so strange when I had known him for such a short time. Still, it did hurt to know that he would never breathe again. That none of the residents of Haven would breathe again. That Winona would not breathe again.
That was one thing I could not understand, especially as I looked at myself now. Why take away such kind souls and let my blackened one see another day?
“Not much,” I finally responded, nothing else coming to mind. Bellamy tsked, his fingers brushing my hair behind my mutilated ears. He had always loved them, though I could not begin to understand why.
“You are so very wrong, Princess.” Then his hands were sliding down my back, unbuttoning my dress as they went. I gasped as his warm fingers met my cold skin, the way he maintained eye contact with me as he did so wickedly erotic. “In that mirror is a female brave enough to stand up to those who sought to abuse and belittle her. She is strong enough to fight back against those who wish harm upon her realm. She is kind, though also humble enough to not realize it. She is smart and cunning, always solving problems before they occur. That female is a leader, a warrior, a survivor .”
As he spoke, Bellamy let his fingers explore my exposed back, gliding across the skin with teasing strokes. When his hand slid up to my shoulders, tugging the material off, he brought his mouth down. The first scorching press of his lips to my flesh was impossibly satisfying, as if the teasing touches had electrified me. Every swipe of his tongue and graze of his teeth threatened to pull a moan from my lips, melting my core. When my chin tilted up at the pleasure of his tongue on my neck, Bellamy reached around and gripped my jaw. He forced my head back down with his tight hold, making me watch as he tasted me.
When he spoke next, it was against my skin.
“I have dreamed of you for so long, probably even longer than I realized. My wishes and prayers, every ounce of my faith, was directed towards you. I did not only want you. I needed you. Now here you are, so close, yet so far. I see it in you, that obsession with being a hero—a savior. Believe me, I think you one too. But now I feel it stealing you away, taking what little time we have.”
His speech was tainted with lust, but the words still held weight. They still cut deep, the honesty of them sending pain to my chest, leaving my heart aching and sore. I wanted to deny it, to pretend like I did not place redemption over him—over everyone. But did I deserve any of them if I let the world fall apart?
“If I fail to save us all, then how can I live with myself? How can you love me if I am the evil that I seem destined to be?” I asked, my voice cracking.
One of his hands skated across my peaked nipple, the quick touch making my back arch. Still, I watched, his other hand holding my head firmly in place. When he cupped my breast, his raspy moan vibrating against my neck, I thought I might implode from so many warring emotions.
“You do not ever have to be anything other than yourself with me. My love is not contingent on your success. In fact, I would gladly watch the world burn if it meant you were at my side while it did.”
Just as I was about to scold him, to call him a liar and tell him to never say things like that, his hand plummeted. His wicked fingers went past my stomach and immediately between my thighs, finding that sensitive spot with perfect accuracy.
Without thought, I reached up and wrapped my hands behind his neck, the pleasure of his touch leaving me aching for more. He was meticulous, so thorough that I was gasping for breath not long after he began.
“Do you know how often I have touched myself to the image of you? How desperately I crave you? How many times I have come to the memory of my name on your lips? I am sure of few things, Asher. But you, I will always be certain of.”
Those fingers plunged into me then, ripping a cry of ecstasy from my lips. With startling force, I realized just how dangerous we were. Our love was made of both honey and venom, a sickly sweet poison that would kill us long before we were satiated.
In and out his fingers went, curving into me despite the tight fabric. As if he could read my thoughts, Bellamy pulled his hands away, quickly tugging down the dress. It put up a valiant fight, sticking to my now scorching body like it never wished to part from me, but Bellamy succeeded. When it was all the way off, he forced me to step out, then tossed the red garment to the side.
I stood in front of the mirror, wearing only my necklace and my heeled shoes. A growl clawed its way up Bellamy’s throat as he began the tantalizing task of undressing himself. First to go were his shoes and jacket. He put far less care into preserving his clothing, the black shirt making a slight ripping sound when he pulled it over his head. With him faintly to the side of me, I could see the bulge in his trousers, straining in a way that looked almost painful. If he noticed, he did not say, opting to simply tug off the bottoms and his undergarments in one fell swoop.
Then we were both bare to each other, the image reflected back causing butterflies to take flight in my stomach. He was handsome in a way that many would never see, let alone achieve. No painting would ever be able to depict his raw beauty, which stemmed from his heart in the same way those tattoos of his did.
Pale muscled arms wrapped around me, tracing nonchalant circles across my tan skin. When he brushed over my stomach, slowing down at that spot where it jutted out, I felt my nerves rise. No matter how many times he had told me that he loved every curve, I would likely always fear his rejection.
Yet Bellamy did not flinch or stray. Those icy eyes of his seemed to melt while he watched us in the mirror, his erection growing impossibly larger as it pressed into my back. I moaned when his fingertips pinched at one of my peaked nipples, once more teasing me in the best way.
“Touch yourself, Princess,” he whispered into my ear, never ceasing his own movements. Pressing a kiss to the jagged tops, he wrapped one arm more firmly around me, holding my body still from just below my breasts. Then his other hand found my throat, wrapping around it with enough pressure to wrench a gasp from my lips.
Fear did not hold weight in my sex life. Seeking out my pleasure had always been a secret, but it had never been scary. The repercussions, yes. But the act itself? No. I had spent quite a bit of time learning, sampling males from each faction. Once, Nicola and I even had a drunken tryst with a guard. Even my most adventurous moments now seemed tame in comparison to what Bellamy’s imagination conjured, though. Still, I would not balk at this challenge.
With the same tantalizing slowness that he had used, I began sliding my hands down my neck. His breathing sped up as I let my fingers drag across my breasts, the feel of it blowing on my ear lighting every nerve on fire. Or perhaps that was Bellamy himself, the heat of his Fire power warming me from the back.
By the time I reached that throbbing spot between my thighs, both of us were practically panting. Bellamy watched my hand as I started to rub firm circles, but I never took my gaze from him. His eyes were heavy, his head still bent down to rest just above my left ear. That hand around my throat tightened vaguely when I dipped my fingers inside of myself, his deep growl paired with the stretch nearly undoing me.
“Do you like watching me?” I asked him, my voice a husky whisper.
At my words, he groaned, and I could not stop the smirk that lifted one side of my lips. Grabbing onto his hand that wrapped around my waist, I dragged it down, stroking myself with his fingers. His sharp hiss mixed with my moan to create a stunning symphony of lust and need.
“Do you feel how wet I am?” He nodded, his tongue darting out to lick his full lips. Knowing that big head of his was inflating, I gleefully smiled and said, “No one knows how to do it like me, it seems.”
For a moment, he froze, his eyes wide and mouth open. When my words seemed to register fully, his gaze narrowed. Suddenly, my feet were in the air. I let out a heinous screech of surprise as he brought us both to the ground. My knees hit the rug first, and then he pushed me forward, forcing my breasts and arms down. His hands gripped my hips as he placed a knee on either side of my legs.
Every movement was riddled with need, his reflection not allowing him to hide the desperation there. The hunger.
“So, you think you can take care of yourself better than I can?” he asked. I meant to say something sarcastic, but then I felt him tease my entrance with the head of his member, gliding it up and down. “Does that mean you do not need me anymore, Princess?”
As if to really emphasize how truly wonderful he was at pleasing me, Bellamy stopped sliding himself to quickly slap my backside. I moaned letting my forehead hit the floor, breaking the unspoken rule to not look away.
Hands gripped my hair, pulling until my eyes were once more focused on the two of us. “Watch.”
Bellamy’s pale skin practically glowed beside my brown, his freckles and tattoos standing out in stark contrast. My gaze lingered on every rippling muscle, his biceps and abs flexing as he tensed behind me. To spite him, I shoved past his mental walls, extinguishing his black flames before he could think to fortify them.
You could use a tan, demon.
Bellamy shoved inside me, my body eagerly making room for the intrusion. I gasped, the pleasure after being taunted making my head swim. Stupid demon did know how to make every second count.
A hand remained tangled in my hair, the other digging into my hip as he thrusted into me, the relentless pace euphoric. He was not gentle tonight, not when he had a point to prove. And as the sounds of our bodies joining filled the room, my eyes fighting against the euphoria to remain open, I said the one thing my mind could conjure.
“I love you.”
His head flew back, exposing his throat. Just as the pleasure claimed me, his name leaving my lips in a cry of ecstasy, I watched Bellamy’s tattoos move. They crept further up his neck, like snakes slinking across the ground. My eyes won then, finally squeezing tight as wave after wave of bliss washed through me, the orgasm leaving me a shaking and gasping mess.
Upon realizing I had come, Bellamy sped up, his hips thrusting harder. I opened my eyes right as he finished, his own screams drowned out by the roar of the fire coming to life in the previously unlit fireplace. The flames were black, shooting upwards with violent force. For a heartbeat, I feared that Bellamy would burn the castle to the ground, but then they disappeared as quickly as they were conjured. He crumpled, his arms grabbing me at the last second to flip us.
We both laid there, my head on his chest and his lips pressed to my hair, as we caught our breath. After a moment of silence, I looked up at him, inspecting his tattoos. They were no longer moving, the very tips now barely grazing his collarbones again. I wanted to ask, but my fear of an answer I would not like won out against my curiosity.
A flash of white appeared just to my left, saving me from having to say anything. Orange hair obstructed my vision before a pair of green eyes met mine.
“It is terribly rude of you to have sex in someone else’s home,” Henry said.