Chapter 20 #3
After entering, he kicked the door shut and set her on the ground. He returned to the door, pressing his ear to it. With a snarl, he threw the lock and turned to face her. “Time for me to have some fun.”
He dragged her over to a fresh set of shackles on the floor. Methodically, he unlocked the ones still on her wrists.
“Lay down.”
She did as he said. Even though she was at his mercy, she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her.
That was reassuring, despite the constant ice sliding through her body with each unrelenting beat of her heart.
Zarathos only stared at her for a long moment before he gripped each of her wrists, raising them above her head, snapping the chains around them.
Then he leaned over her, whispering into her ear.
“You must remain very afraid. Scream and beg as if I am taking advantage of you until I tell you to stop. Despite that, you shall retain the knowledge that you are unharmed.”
“No, no, please, don’t…don’t…” The pleas tumbled out of her mouth as she thrashed on the floor underneath him. Then a piercing scream ripped out of her.
She lay there sobbing, words stumbling from her lips. “Please…stop…don’t…”
The expression on Zarathos’s face intensified and for a moment, he looked at her with such agony, she thought he might be the one being tortured.
But that didn’t stop the scream that rose unbidden from her throat, piercing the space between them. Zarathos’s fists clenched, and he turned away, moving with swift strides to a side opening and disappearing inside it.
And she continued to cry and shriek in terror.
Aryana’s throat was sore. And she was drained.
Sheer panic exhausted her; dried tears caked her face, puffing her eyes and cheeks until they ached.
She swiped her nose for the hundredth time on her sleeve because that was all she could do.
When would this potion wear off? Her voice was near gone and her fear had been so poignant for so long, she wasn’t sure it mattered if she was even afraid anymore.
That was when Zarathos returned. He stalked to the door and pressed his ear against it. A relieved expression crossed his face, and he approached. Aryana tensed. He wasn’t going to hurt her, but she was under the potion still, and she didn’t know what he’d order her to do next.
She wanted him to tell her to stop.
“Please…please, Zarathos…master, please…” She communicated her desperation to him the only way possible, giving him a pleading look through her eyes. Please make this end.
“Listen to me. No more screams, no more fear. You are safe. Do you understand? You’re safe.”
The tension leached out of her body. “I’m safe.”
“Yes.” He reached toward her, but she flinched and his hand curled inward as he retracted it. He looked away at the fire. “We are almost there, Aryana. But I need to… my scent must be on you.” He took a slow breath. “May I hold you?”
She blinked in surprise. “You’re asking me?”
“If I have to scent your fear on you any longer, I swear I am going to vomit.”
“Don’t demons like the smell of fear?”
“They relish the scent on their enemies, on their prey, on those that aren’t…” His expression tightened. “Answer the question.”
He’d left her crying and fearful and now he wanted to touch her, but she understood. If the demon king was to appear as if he’d had his way with her, this was necessary. After everything else she’d been through today, she could handle this last thing.
“Yes.”
A sigh expelled from him and he shifted, taking her oh so gently into his embrace, as if she was a piece of delicate china that was about to shatter in his grasp. He moved behind her, sitting on the cold stone floor and pulling her against his warmth.
His fingers grazed over her arms in calming, caressing strokes.
“I want you to go to sleep, Aryana. And as you do, I want you to relax and understand you will remain unhurt. And when you wake, the fear and pain of today will feel but a distant memory along with all your traumatic memories. You will wake refreshed and… whole.”
She wasn’t sure if it worked like that. Once the potion wore off, would he still be able to control her feelings?
The question lingered, but already a heavy drowsiness was pulling her under, and a quiet peace settled over her heart.
For the first time, in what seemed like forever—whether it was the potion’s doing or simply the way Zarathos held her, his shadows curling softly at her sides—she felt something she hadn’t in a very long while.
She felt safe.
Aryana awoke refreshed. She stretched and her hands bumped into something cold and metal. She looked up at the chains and then at her wrists that very much were not inside them.
There was a shifting figure in the shadows. She sat up and made out the soft glow of his eyes in the fading lights of the day.
“You unchained me.”
Zarathos cleared his throat and stepped out of the darkness, coming to stand next to the vanity. “There were demons at the door last night. Everything had to sound authentic. The chains helped. But after they were gone, they were unnecessary.”
She rubbed her wrists, still uncertain as to the meaning behind the action. “It’s almost like you care how I feel.”
“Why would I be concerned about your feelings, Vampress? I only desired you to be refreshed and uninjured so you can help keep me alive today.”
“I didn’t know that how my hands are chained affected that—”
He slammed his fist down and fixed her with a furious look. “When I declare that is all it is, that is all it is. Understand?”
They glared at each other. Why had he gotten prickly simply because she noticed him doing something kind?
“As you say, my master,” she said, disdain dripping in her voice. Zarathos observed her with his glowing gaze, seemingly trying to decide something about her. She couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were several shades warmer than Xaphoron’s.
“There are certain times during the trials when banquets will be required,” he said.
“Most of the time, the kalators are to be present for them. Kingdom Misophae was to host tonight’s event, but they cancelled it because of the death of one of their champions.
” He uttered the line without remorse, as if he hadn’t caused the demise of said champion.
“Which leaves us free to go for the scepter.”
A grimness tightened his expression, and a tension entered her at the sight. “Yes. It is time, Vampress.”