18. INTO THE FIRESTORM
Chapter eighteen
INTO THE FIRESTORM
High Lord Herodis’ heart ached with a profound sorrow he hadn't felt in decades. Emeriel's screams pierced the night’s air like a banshee's wail, filled with unbearable pain, each one a shard of ice twisting in his gut.
He wanted nothing more than to rush to her, to mount the female in heat, especially with those screams of agony. The sound of her suffering was nearly unbearable.
Despite the cottage being far away, her cries reached him clearly. As Urekai aged, their senses grew sharper, and their strength increased. Herod was no exception.
His heightened senses were even sharper, capturing every tortured sound, and it broke him. He could even hear the desperate whimpers punctuating her screams.
Herod's knuckles whitened as he gripped the arms of his study chair. His erection was hard and angry, straining through his pants. His muscles tensed in an effort to maintain control.
While she struggled to ride out her torturous heatwaves, Herod rose and began to pace his study like a caged beast.
Emeriel had made him promise no stranger would touch her during her heat, and he understood her disgust at the thought of enduring another male’s touch.
But now, hearing her pain, he questioned the wisdom of that promise. Was anything worth her going through this unbearable agony?
He could spare her this torment by taking her heat or sending in one of his most trusted soldiers.
Or you could send for her male. The thought whispered in his mind.
Herod understood the grand king's predicament more intimately than most. Having lost his beloved Vera to the cruel clutches of illness three decades past, he knew what it felt like to live with the pain of a severed bond.
The anguish of losing a bondmate was excruciating, the grief unbearable.
Thirty years had passed, yet the gaping void still remained. Some nights, Herod woke from sleep, missing his Vera so much he wept until dawn.
The misery of a severed bond was like losing a limb. Or a dozen.
Vera's death had not been his fault, but Herod had spent countless nights blaming himself, hating himself for his failure to protect her.
Queen Evielyn had not been sick for years; she was so vibrant and had so much life yet to live. And then, suddenly, she was gone. It was a burden no one should bear.
This understanding had fueled his support for Emeriel's decision to conceal her identity from the grand king. Herod knew the risks, the potential consequences of their deception.
But he also knew the depth of Daemonikai's grief, the raw wound that time had yet to heal. That time might never heal.
Another scream tore through the night, raw and agonizing. Followed by another, each more gut-wrenching than the last. Then, an eerie silence.
Emeriel had lost consciousness.
Herod sagged against the wall, relief washing over him. He did not know how much longer he could have endured the sound of her suffering without taking action.
Grand King Daemonikai prowled Vladya's study, restless. Agitated.
The court proceedings earlier that evening had been a blur, his focus shattered. He was worried about Vladya, of course. But there was something else.
A deeper disquiet he could not ignore. Yet he simply could not put his finger on what it was.
Paused at the window, he gazed out at the moonlit courtyard below. His mind filled with conflicting thoughts as he waited for his friend to return.
Daemonikai wanted to summon Emeriel, and at the same time, he wanted to see Galilea. A boy devoid of scent and a female betrothed to another. Both humans.
It was ironic and confusing. Even perpetually annoying.
For millennia, Daemonikai had desired only his bondmate. Now, he found himself wanting not one, but two people. Two humans. And he did not want to want anyone else.
Daemonikai exhaled deeply, troubled, knowing more than anyone that he was broken inside. Shattered, like pieces of glass, bleeding profusely.
His wounds existed where no one could see. They did not know how infected it had become. How slowly he was dying on the inside.
Galilea's scent somehow offered comfort, and a momentary reprieve from the pain. Her captivating beauty, soothing voice, and soft, expressive eyes calmed him in ways he would never admit aloud. And the boy; his presence was soothing. Strangely, everything about him felt...familiar.
I have had him before.
Those thoughts had filled Daemonikai's head as he’d devoured those pretty soft lips a week ago. And the sweet rush that had filled Daemonikai at the taste of his blood was so intoxicating, he had climaxed hard.
Daemonikai wasn't sure if he'd had the boy sexually, but he knew for certain he'd drunk from him in the past. He was sure of it.
The taste of his blood was exceptional, almost addictive, instead of the usual bland when one drank without verbal permission. Which could only mean he had been given permission before.
But how? Why? The boy had...willingly offered his blood to a feral beast? None of it made sense.
His beast banged inside him, raging and snarling. Daemonikai fought back, his jaw clenching as he resisted the urge to give in to the shift the beast so demanded.
A headache split his skull. He groaned, pulling away from the window.
The urge to shift had been building for weeks, but the beast was particularly determined today. Since morning, it had tortured him, biting and crawling at the edge of his mind, wanting out. Only adding to the nagging feeling of unease...as strong as a hurricane gnawing at him all day.
Daemonikai suppressed the feeling, determined not to let it rise. Resisting his beast's call. What if he never got to revert to his human form again?
If not for his people and his promise to Vlad, Daemonikai would let the beast do whatever the hell it desired.
The guards snapped to attention as Daemonikai emerged from Vladya's bedchambers approaching Yaz.
"He ordered you not to follow?" Daemonikai asked, knowing that was the only possible reason this male would be here when Vladya was not.
Yaz nodded, his eyes downcast. "Yes, Your Grace. He's been gone since yesterday."
Daemonikai gave a curt nod. He had waited long enough, it was time to hunt.
He had a scent to track.
That nagging feeling rose again, but Daemonikai suppressed it as he left the fortress.
Emeriel’s screams began again.
Lord Herod could hear her crying, begging, and he hated it so much. She was in agony, and he despised how helpless he was to help her. But being far away from her was the best way to protect her.
Once he caught a whiff of her scent, Herod knew it would be over. He would go into a rut.
That's why he was in his room, pacing. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles ached, the floorboards creaking beneath his agitated strides.
"Somebody help! Please!" she cried, her voice raspy and raw. The sound of her shaking the cottage door rang in his ears.
Herod squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into his palm. He had to ignore it. He had to.
"I ca-can't... I can't take this," she sobbed. "It's too much, please...I feel like I'm dying."
Herod pressed his palms against his ears, desperate to block out the sound of her pain. But it was no use.
His beast sensed the agony of someone they cared for, and was annoyed and restless within him. The urge to investigate, to comfort, was almost overwhelming.
"Please! my king, I ne-need you!" she cried. "I need you s-so much...Where are you? Please, I'm dy-dying."
The door rattling had stopped, and Herod imagined her small body writhing in agony on the floor of the cottage. A pounding headache developed.
"Please, come before it gets me again. I ca-can't...I can't..." Panic entered her voice. "It's coming again—" A scream tore from her throat, cutting through the night air like a jagged blade.
Herod imagined her twitching from the pain, her eyes filled with terror. Vulnerable and defenseless.
Orin had been right. Emeriel's heat was merciless. Brutal in its intensity.
Sobs echoed through the night, each one a fresh wound to Herod's soul.
Herod could not take it any longer, he was close to breaking.
Desperate for a distraction, he crossed to the window and flung open the curtains. In the distance, the cottage stood bathed in moonlight, its doors firmly shut. Herod needed air, needed to escape the suffocating guilt crushing him. He threw open the window—
And her scent hit him with the force of a lightning strike. He had made a terrible mistake.
Herod’s muscles tensed, his body frozen in place. Her scent flooded his nostrils mixed with heady musk, amplified a thousandfold by her heat.
He registered distantly that he was growling. Raw need flooded his senses. Irresistible, uncontrollable. Want her, want her, want her!
His vision blurred, cock aching fiercely. Must have her. Must pin her down and take her.
Herod was barely aware of leaving his bedchambers and heading toward the cottage. His mind a fog of lust. He wanted, badly.
With every step he took toward that alluring scent, his want grew worse.
Opening the cottage door, he entered, a snarl ripping from him. Heavens, this scent.
Something ran toward him and slammed into his chest. Not something, someone. The owner of that heady scent.
"Must have you," he growled, the words torn from his throat. "Must take you."
The sweet body in his arms flinched as their bodies made contact. "King Daemonikai," she sobbed, her body clinging to him like a lifeline. "You are here...you are here."
His beast roared in protest, pained and angry. His name was Herodis, not Daemonikai!
The fog of arousal lifted a bit, replaced by a wave of guilt and panic. Zounds, he was not supposed to be here.
"Emeriel," he groaned, his voice thick with shame. "Hell, I should not be here."
She stared at him, eyes unfocused. "Lord H-Herod?"
"It's me, dear one."
A small sound of disappointment and pain came from her a moment before she clung to him. "Please, just make it stop. I beg of you, just make it stop," she cried, her tears mingling with the sweat on her face.
"Emeriel..."
"Please, Lord Herod." Her eyes, red and swollen, filled with arousal, finally held recognition. "If you care for me at all…Just make this agony stop.”
Herod tried to think through his rut. It was incredibly difficult. "I am not Daemonikai, little one," he choked out, his voice barely recognizable. "I am not the one your body needs."
"I don't care!" She writhed, rubbing her very naked body against his, trying to seek relief from the fire. "Just make it stop. It's too much! Too much…I can’t handle this.”
Herod's resolve crumbled and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.
Emeriel cried out again, her body twisting, rejecting him, yet desperate enough to take his touch. "Yes..."
Herod's hand moved down, caressing her soaked privates. But,Emeriel shoved him away.
“No! Don't touch me!" she yelled, scrambling away from him until her back hit the wall. Sliding down, she curled into a tight ball, rocking back and forth.
"No, no, no! Fe-feels wrong. So, so wr-wrong. I want my Beloved. I want my Beloved!" She wailed, bawling unrestrained.
It struck Herod like a knife to the gut. Rationally, he knew she was not rejecting him personally. But his beast so close to the surface, felt only the sting of rejection.
While it raged like a crazed, wounded animal, the male fought against the pull of the rut. He would not take her. He wouldn't force her. He wasn't the one she needed, the one her body craved.
The battle inside him raged. A tug-of-war between his instincts and his conscience. It was like trying to breathe underwater, each gasp a struggle for survival.
Finally, with phenomenal effort, he forced his legs to move. Herod stumbled out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him.
Gasping for air, he leaned against the wall. Greedily taking fresh air into his lungs, his mind slowly began to clear. The scent of her still clung to him, but the distance provided a modicum of control.
Another scream ripped through the night, shattering the fragile peace he had found. Herod's heart clenched. No, she cannot go on like this.
Making a decision, he hurried back to his study.
Herod grabbed a quill and parchment, scribbling a hasty message.
I apologize for the insolence of this late-night request, Your Grace. But a matter of utmost urgency has arisen. I implore you to grace my estate with your presence this evening. I await your arrival.
The Lord of Agriculture.
Herod rushed outside, the parchment clutched in his hand. Under the oak tree, he whistled sharply.
Within moments, a sleek messenger bird swooped down, landing on his outstretched arm. Herod attached the message to its leg. Watching the bird take flight, he whispered a silent prayer, hoping the message would reach the grand king early. Hoping the ruler would honor his request.
Grand King Daemonikai was no longer hunting for Vladya.
Daemonikai knew the truth with every fiber of his being as he raced through the woods in the dark. His instincts had taken over. That nagging feeling had forced its way to the surface, overpowering his will.
He ran, not with purpose, but with desperation.
There was no destination in mind, and could not pinpoint the exact location he was headed. Yet, it didn't matter. He could not resist the pull. He did not want to.
He had never felt like this before. This compelling urge to be somewhere. A force that overrode his very strong concern for his missing friend.
The world blurred around him as he raced through the forest, his powerful legs eating up the distance.
Finally, he skidded to a halt at the gates of Herodis’s estate, his chest heaving. The sudden stop jolted him back to a semblance of rationality. What was he doing here?
He, the grand king, trespassing on another Alpha's territory under the cover of darkness? Daemonikai had executed people for less.
Logic dictated he turn back. Head back to the woods and continue his search for Vladya. Yet, he could not.
His legs were moving forward, and with a guttural growl, Daemonikai announced his presence at the gates.
The response was immediate. Sound of locks disengaging filled the air, followed by the creak of metal hinges. The gates swung open, revealing a line of guards, their heads bowed in deference.
Daemonikai took a single step onto the estate—and a scent slammed into him, nearly bringing him to his knees.
A scent so sweet, so potent, it crashed over him like a tidal wave. Mine!
Mine, mine, mine!
The same scent had haunted his dreams. Only this time, it was much, much stronger, and smelled so much better. Holy Ukrae. Holy hell.
Someone roared, the sound suspiciously close, before he realized it was coming from him.
Everyone raised their hands in surrender. Necks bared for him. But it was not enough.
Possessiveness gripped him like a vice. Daemonikai wanted to kill . He wanted to destroy every male who dared to even breathe her scent. Another roar ripped from his throat, echoing through the night.
"Your Grace, please calm yourself," a familiar voice pleaded, cutting through the haze of his fury.
Daemonikai whipped around, his vision blurring at the edges. Rage and raw arousal warred within him, consuming him.
"Your Grace..." the voice was closer now, pained, desperate.
A flood of needle-like pain spread through Lord Herod's body as the grand king pumped out pheromones like crazy—in heavy, super-aggressive bursts. Practically broadcasting his dominance, through his stance and demeanor.
King Daemonikai saw all of them as a threat standing between him and his female.
Herod recognized the unmistakable signs of a Urekai in a rut. But this was no ordinary rut.
The sheer power of Daemonikai's pheromones…their raw, untamed strength, spoke of a bond far deeper than mere attraction. If Herod hadn't known before, he knew now, Emeriel was truly Daemonikai's soulbond.
If the grand king shifted now, they would all be dead. Herod fought to project an aura of calm, desperately hoping to appease the enraged alpha.
"Your Grace, please," Herod's voice was strained.
That message couldn’t have reached the fortress this fast. And if Emeriel had called to him, the urgency would have triggered a shift, and his beast form would have arrived instead of the man.
So, how had the grand king arrived so quickly?
Another blast of pheromones washed over him, forcing several soldiers to their knees. Some roll onto their back...showing their bellies in the most humiliating way a Urekai could ever submit to another.
It worked, to a degree. The savage glint in Daemonikai's eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a cold, calculating rage.
"Mine," he growled in a possessive rumble Herod would have sworn shook the very earth. The grand king's previously feral beast was so close to the surface that Herod couldn't imagine the kind of control the male was exerting to stop a forced shift.
"Give her to me. Now," King Daemonikai snarled in a tone that was purely animalistic. Taking a menacing step forward, his eyes bore into Herod's. "You have what belongs to me, Lord of Agriculture. Give. Her. To. Me. Now."
"She's in the cottage," he choked out, raising his hands in surrender while fighting the suffocating powers of that last blast. "All yours. She is ready for you."
All of a sudden, a sound echoed in the distance. The unmistakable sound of a door bursting open, followed by the frantic patter of bare feet on stone.
Herod's eyes widened as Emeriel raced towards them.
The girl who had struggled for hours to escape had finally found the motivation she needed. The scent of her soulmate.
The grand king’s head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in on the approaching figure. Emeriel was naked and unashamed as she barreled into him with the force of a charging bull.
Any other male would have been knocked to the ground, but Daemonikai stood firm, his arms encircling the trembling female.
"You're here," she sobbed against his chest, her body clinging to his. "I have been waiting. It hurts so bad...Please, make it go away...Beloved. I need you so much."
Herod winced inwardly. Beloved.
If she was lucky, that word would be lost in the haze of rut, and Daemonikai would not remember it afterward.
The grand king pulled back slightly, his broad shoulders shielding her nakedness from the prying eyes of the soldiers.
"Mine," King Daemonikai stated in a possessive tone that brooked no argument.
“Yours,” she cried softly, trembling. “I am yours.”
The grand king gave them all a last thunderous glare, before he lifted her effortlessly, and stormed towards the cottage.