Chapter 34 The High of Madness
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE HIGH OF MADNESS
He was coming.
The knowledge settled in my bones like certainty, like prophecy written in divine blood and sealed with my own newfound hunger. I could feel it in the way the air shifted, thick with approaching storm, in the restless energy that had been building beneath my skin.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, slow and measured, accompanied by the familiar clink of keys and weapons. There was nothing different about the rhythm of the footfalls, but it felt different nonetheless. A difference that made my pulse quicken with anticipation rather than dread.
I straightened, spine pressing against the cold stone, chin lifting with unconscious pride.
Whatever Valen had planned for tonight, whatever punishment he intended to visit upon me for my defiance at the feast, I would meet it with eyes wide open.
No more cowering. No more silent tears. I had bit him, tasted his blood.
I was capable of more than I’d ever imagined.
The footsteps grew closer, accompanied now by the low murmur of voices.
I recognized the cadence even before they came into view—my three guards, the ones who had tended me after each session, who had grown gentle in their handling despite the violence they were required to facilitate.
The oldest with his slight limp, the youngest whose nose bore the crooked reminder of our first encounter, the middle one who spoke the least but whose hands were always careful when they cleaned my wounds.
And behind them, his presence filling the corridor like gathering darkness, came Valen.
I didn’t need to see him to know he was there.
His power preceded him, rolling through the air like heat waves.
The blood in my veins responded immediately, warming, rising to meet its source like iron filings drawn to a magnet.
My breath caught in my throat, not from fear but from the intensity of recognition, of two dangerous forces acknowledging each other across space.
I was no longer certain which of us was predator, and which was prey.
The key turned in the lock with its familiar grinding protest, but when the door swung open, my guards didn’t immediately enter. Instead, they waited, stepping aside in perfect synchronization to allow their master to take center stage.
Valen stepped further into view, and the sight of him stole what little breath I had left.
He was magnificent in his darkness, tall and imposing in his black leather.
His hair fell effortlessly across his forehead, framing a face that belonged in nightmares and fantasies in equal measure.
But those depthless black eyes captured me, fixed so resolutely on me, it made my skin feel too tight, too warm, too alive.
He said nothing at first, merely studied me with the same clinical interest a scholar might show a particularly fascinating specimen.
His gaze traveled over me slowly, taking in my position against the wall, the way the silk clung to my frame, the defiant tilt of my chin.
When his eyes finally met mine, I saw anticipation flicker in their depths.
“Enter her cell,” he commanded the guards, his voice carrying the absolute authority of divinity wrapped in mortal flesh. “Bind her wrists in front.”
The guards moved with practiced efficiency, but there was something almost apologetic in their movements as they approached me.
The youngest avoided my eyes as he knelt beside me, producing lengths of rope from his belt.
His hands were gentle as he drew my wrists together, the rope soft against my skin but firm enough to hold.
I offered no resistance. Why should I? This was merely the opening move in a game I was finally ready to play.
I watched Valen as the guards worked, noting the way he observed every detail of their ministrations, the way his hands remained perfectly still at his sides despite the tension that radiated from him like heat from a forge.
“Kneel,” he said once the guards had finished their work.
The command hung in the air between us, weighted with all the power he held over me, with the memory of every time I had been forced to submit to his will.
But tonight, I wouldn’t submit. Tonight, I looked up at him from my position against the wall and smiled—not the broken smile of the defeated, but something sharp and knowing and entirely unrepentant.
I didn’t move.
The silence that followed was electric, charged with tension. The guards shifted nervously, uncertain how to react to my defiance. But Valen... Valen went perfectly still, his head tilting slightly as he studied me with renewed interest.
“I said kneel,” he repeated, his voice softer, but somehow more dangerous.
Still, I remained where I was, spine straight against the stone, silver eyes locked on his black ones. Let him force me onto my knees.
The guards moved without needing further instruction, their hands firm but not cruel as they grasped my arms, lifted me, and pulled me forward.
My knees hit the stone floor with jarring impact, but I kept my head high, kept my gaze fixed on Valen’s face as they positioned me in the center of my cell like an offering placed before an altar.
“Leave us,” Valen said without taking his eyes from mine.
The guards departed with obvious relief, their footsteps echoing down the corridor until the silence reclaimed us.
Valen began to circle me, his movements predatory and deliberate, each step calculated to remind me of my position. But I found myself tracking his progress not with the wary attention of prey, but with the focused interest of an equal opponent.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice rolling through the cell like distant thunder, “you will learn the crucial difference between defiance and stupidity.”
I kept my eyes on him as he moved, refusing to lower my gaze despite the vulnerable position I’d been forced into. “What is the difference, my king?” I asked, my voice steady despite the divine power that pressed against me from all sides.
He hummed, as if not quite ready to tell me. “So impatient. Tell me, my queen,” he said, the endearment twisted into something mocking, “why do you think you’re kneeling before me?”
“Because you’re a sadistic god who gets off on other people’s pain?”
Valen’s smile was slow and terrible, a crescent moon rising in the darkness of his face. “No,” he said, resuming his predatory circling. “You’re kneeling because you acted like a rabid animal last night.” He paused. “And rabid animals, my dear, get put down.”
The threat should have terrified me. Should have sent ice through my veins, should have reduced me to a trembling, pleading creature.
Instead, I felt... nothing.
No, not nothing. I felt alive. Vibrantly, dangerously alive, as if Valen’s blood had awakened something in me that thrived on confrontation, that fed on the electric tension crackling between us.
I tilted my head, studying him as he completed another circuit around me, his black eyes never leaving my face.
There was something different in his expression tonight—an intensity that went beyond his usual calculated cruelty, a heat that spoke of genuine engagement rather than mere entertainment.
As if he, too, had realized that the rules of our game had fundamentally changed.
“You bit me,” he continued, each word measured and precise. “In front of my court. In front of what remains of yours. I warned you to behave and then you bit me.”
“Yes, I was there,” I said, my voice carrying a note of mock consideration. “Although, I don’t recall you specifying what particular behavior you expected.”
Valen’s circling slowed, his attention sharpening like a blade finding its edge. “I expected obedience. Submission.”
I scoffed. “Your attention shouldn’t have strayed if you wanted my complete obedience.”
Valen stopped circling entirely, and I silently cursed myself. His smile was slow and knowing as I glared up at him.
“Ah,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. “I didn’t realize.”
I kept my expression flat, but something in my silence must have spoken volumes, because his smile widened, becoming something genuinely delighted.
“Was my queen jealous?” he asked, crouching down until we were at eye level, his face inches from mine. “Did it hurt to see another woman touch what you’ve decided was yours?”
I allowed my own smile to curve my lips. “Jealous?” I repeated. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was merely... irritated by your lack of focus.”
“Irritated,” Valen echoed, his black eyes dancing with something that might have been genuine joy. “How delightfully transparent you are. Tell me, was it jealousy that drove you to sink your teeth into my flesh? Or simple animal instinct?”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to look away. “Are you planning on torturing me,” I asked, changing the subject with deliberate provocation, “or is the torture merely your presence?”
Valen laughed—a rich, genuine sound that filled my cell like dark music.
The expression transformed his face completely, softening the harsh angles, making him look less like an ancient god and more like a man who had found something unexpectedly entertaining.
But beneath the amusement, I could feel the tension building, coiling like a spring wound too tight.
He was enjoying this. The verbal sparring, the charged atmosphere, the way I met his provocations with my own. For the first time since my capture, we were engaging as equals—predator to predator, darkness to darkness. And the realization sent a thrill through me.
“Oh, my dear Mireille,” he said, rising from his crouch to tower over me once again. “I think you’ll find that my presence is the least torturous part of tonight’s agenda.”