27. THOUGHTS AND WISHES
Chapter twenty-seven
THOUGHTS AND WISHES
By midnight, Grand King Daemonikai stepped out of the carriage, moonlight glinting off the polished surface as Wegai bowed before him. Daemonikai strode forward, his legion of soldiers falling in behind him.
It had been a long journey, and all he wanted was to retreat to his residence for some much-needed rest.
Three whole days spent on werewolf soil was no easy feat. But this particular trip had been of paramount importance. After the official matters were concluded, King Azrael had confided in him about the escalating troubles with the vampire clans.
The cursed bloodsuckers were once again testing the boundaries of the werewolf lands, searching for vulnerabilities, eager to not only infiltrate but perhaps even claim territory.
Four of the creatures had been captured and eliminated, but Daemonikai knew this was a temporary solution. Urekai and Werewolves’ enmity with vampires stretched back millennia, long before his own birth.
Daemonikai had always believed if any species were to uncover the secret of the Urekai’s night of weakness and breach their defenses, it would be those cunning bloodsuckers. Certainly not humans.
Traitorous animals.
Yet, one human occupied his thoughts more than he cared to admit. Galilea.
She had been on his mind incessantly these past few days, even when he was supposed to be focused on critical matters in the werewolf court.
Everything about her was different.
In every way.
He might be centuries out of practice, but when it came to her, something didn't feel right. Or perhaps it felt too right.
He'd slept more soundly with her than he had in the past three months. There were nights he ran the woods, hunted for sport, had been so exhausted afterward, yet hadn't found rest.
But with Galilea, despite her demanding heat, he'd managed to find peaceful slumber in the brief moments between. Beside her, a human.
It was beyond comprehension.
Daemonikai had helped females through their heat before, but he'd never felt the urge to hold them close and never let go. Was it because he was unbonded? This was, after all, his first heat without Evie's bond.
Perhaps.
But unlikely.
This wasn't a bond issue, it was a her issue.
All his intense feelings centered around her… Galilea. Daemonikai couldn't explain it. Didn't want to think too much about it.
He didn't like the connections his mind was drawing, the implications they suggested. So he shut them down.
It was better not to dwell on things he didn't want answers to. He'd learned that long ago. Some things were better left unknown.
As he entered his quarters, his servants stood waiting, a bath already drawn. His bedchamber was scented with magnolia and borage, instead of the lavender he'd favored for centuries, the scent bringing Evie to mind.
"That will be all," Daemonikai dismissed the servants as he entered the tub, letting the warm, scented water envelop him, soothing his weary muscles.
His new choice of scented candles was beginning to seem like a bad idea too. Because now, Galilea came to mind. Again.
Images of Galilea in his arms flashed through his mind, causing a low growl to rumble in his chest. She had been so responsive, so utterly captivating every time she unraveled on his dick.
He hadn't thought it possible to find a female who craved his touch, who responded to it more than his bonded mate. But the experience with Galilea had been both exhilarating and humbling.
She reacted to his simplest touch, her body melting trustingly into his. Even with his hand wrapped around her neck in a death grip, her eyes held less fear and more... trust. He could bring her to climax with a mere caress, and somehow, he knew this was not solely due to her heat.
What was it about this girl that made him want to lock her away in his chambers and ravage her for weeks on end?
And why was he here in his bath, indulging in forbidden fantasies about someone else's betrothed? His dick swollen, strained between his legs, hungry for more of her.
Her heat is over. Let it go.
Remember, you should not be thinking too much about it, if you do not want the answer.
Daemonikai sighed. "Is Zaiper back from his trip?"
"No, your Grace," Wegai answered from behind the curtains, his shadow dancing on the fabric. "He's still in the mountains."
"Mmm." The water soothed Daemonikai’s aching muscles.
"Should I summon your bloodhost? Surely you must be hungry after the... events of the past few days."
He was, but the hunger wasn't urgent. Sleep beckoned more strongly than feeding. And being in the company of Sinai tonight, no matter how brief, didn't appeal to him that much, either.
"Not tonight."
Leaning back against the tub, eyes closed, he thought of Vladya.
Concern for his friend cut like a fresh wound throbbing relentlessly. It had been over a week since Daemonikai last saw him, he needed to check on his friend.
Vladya had disappeared for months at a time in the past, especially after a failed bonding, he shouldn’t be so worried. Yet, he was.
This time felt different. A bad feeling brewed in his gut.
Tomorrow morning. He would check on Vladya first thing in the morning.
Sinking deeper into the tub, Daemonikai let the water ease the tension coiling in his biceps. Could it be another failed bonding ritual?
Unease formed a knot in him.
Madam Livia stood at the edge of the garden, her eyes scanning the slaves under the pale glow of the moon as they worked diligently around her. "Elsie, start watering over there."
"Yes, madam." The young girl hefted her watering can to the designated area.
Under the moonlight, a dozen figures moved like shadows, tending to the garden's needs.
A woman, hunched over flowering vines, expertly pruning each branch with quiet, rhythmic snips. A young boy carefully nurtured a row of delicate herbs. Further down the path, a group of figures worked together, harvesting ripe vegetables, their baskets gradually filling.
Madam Livia oversaw them, vigilant for any sign of soldiers. They were not supposed to be out here this late, but Livia had to ensure nothing drew attention to Emeriel's absence.
That girl would be the death of her yet. It had been six days, and although Livia knew it wasn't her fault, six days was a long time for a slave to disappear.
Whispers and questions were already circulating amongst the others. Their secrecy’s fabric was thin. Excuses could only cover so much.
"Risa, be careful," Livia cautioned as the girl struggled with a heavy bucket of water, her small frame straining under the weight.
When had her life become this? Covering for slaves instead of maintaining her usual stern and unforgiving demeanor?
But then, she remembered Emeriel’s wide, agonized eyes as merciless heat cramps wracked her body.
How was the girl faring now? How was she recovering?
Livia tried to push aside her worry, but sometimes, like now, it was impossible. Poor child.
Was Emeriel truly the female the grand king had left the fortress to aid during her heat?
When Livia had first heard the rumor, her relief had been crippling. She had been so terrified of how Emeriel's first heat would manifest without the sanctuary of the beast's forbidden chambers.
Fate truly worked in mysterious ways. Yet somehow, even amidst the cruelty of their world, things had a way of working out. Fate truly worked in mysterious ways.
"Careful with those sacks," she whispered to the two men in the distance, their shoulders burdened with heavy bags of compost.
"Everyone, hurry now."
They needed to finish quickly.
Emeriel snapped awake as a biting pain ripped through her lower abdomen. It felt as though a cannibal was ruthlessly devouring her insides.
"Oww..." a helpless moan escaped her lips as she drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
The pain grew, like vitriol being poured into her organs.
Emeriel let out a high-pitched scream, her thin nightrobe riding up her thighs as she squeezed her knees so tightly that her fingers dug into her skin, drawing blood.
The door burst open, and Lord Herod rushed in, his hair sleep-tousled and nightshirt rumpled. "Are you alright, young one?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but a fresh dose of agony bombarded her, cutting off her words. A pained wail was all she could manage.
"Come here." He lifted her gently into his arms.
Emeriel braced for the pain of his touch, but relief came when only mild discomfort accompanied it. "Worry not, it won't be as bad as the first day."
He sat on the chair beside the bed, cradling her in his lap like a child. A sensation like something being squeezed within her made her cry out again, barely aware of his soothing hand stroking her back.
"This one feels different," Emeriel sobbed.
"Yes, it's the final discharge from your womb as it closes and ascends.” Sadness flashed through Lord Herod's expression. “It feels this way because you did not conceive."
Emeriel's head snapped up. "What?"
"Our women have a theory. If the last discharge is particularly painful, it's because your body wanted to hold onto that last release, and the discharge ends up fighting to be released. Like a prisoner struggling to escape a soldier's grasp."
"I didn't c-conceive?"
He shook his head, his expression sympathetic.
"It's okay. I never r-really thought about it until now." Emeriel laid her head back on his chest, hiding the tears streaming down her cheeks.
It was true, she had never given pregnancy any thought.
But why did the news that she wasn't carrying the grand king's child hurt more than the physical pain in her abdomen? Like a crushing weight pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe .
"Em..." Lord Herod sighed, his all-too-seeing eyes staring at her. "Do not torture yourself. Do not do that to yourself, little princess."
A sob tore from her throat, then another. Soon, Emeriel was weeping uncontrollably.
Lord Herod held her, offering comfort, murmuring soothing words as she cried and trembled in his arms.
When the pain surged again, Emeriel squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she fought alongside her body, the final discharge wouldn't happen, right?
Bracing herself, Emeriel squeezed her thighs together, clenching her muscles, so hard, her body shook violently, teeth chattering.
"Ukrae, stop that. Emeriel, let it out," Lord Herod scolded, giving her a gentle shake. "Emeriel, let it out, damn it."
But she held firm, her fingers digging into his skin, drawing blood. When the pain finally receded, she collapsed against him, utterly drained.
"How can someone so small, so young, be so stubborn?" he asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"Don't apologize. I understand. Vera used to do it too. But your willpower alone cannot force a conception, young one. Our kind simply doesn't bear offspring as easily as other species. You have to accept that now; it will make things easier for you in the future."
I wish I carried his child.
Emeriel sniffled, keeping her face buried in his chest. "Thank you for being here, My Lord. I know I've inconvenienced you—"
The hand stroking her back paused. "Don't even start with that. Friends don't inconvenience each other."
"How can I ever repay you for all this?" she asked, her voice small.
Lord Herod sighed, as if she were a lost cause, and he was tired of the conversation. He resumed gently running his hand along her back.
When the suffocating pain returned, Emeriel whimpered and stiffened.
He pulled her back slightly, locking eyes with her. "Bear down, little princess."
With a trembling, aching heart, she did as he instructed, pushing with all her might. A gush of fluid left her body soaking his thighs, bringing immediate relief. "Oh..."
"Feel better now?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she breathed, feeling better than she had in days. But with the relief came exhaustion and dizziness.
"Time to sleep, princess." He lifted her with care, and gently laid her on the bed, then sat beside her, stroking her hair. "You're a very strong girl, Emeriel. No wonder fate chose you to be a grand queen. You fought this battle and won. I am proud of you."
Wouldn't it be easier if this male were her Soulbond ?
Wouldn't her life be less complicated if he were the one her heart longed for, the one her soul was tied to?
Emeriel drifted off to sleep. Life was so unfair.
Grand King Daemonikai bolted upright, and fought for breath.
Watching his son take his last breath clung to him as he staggered to the window, gasping for air. The first rays of dawn painted the sky.
His chest ached, and his heart burned .
But the suffocating discomfort that woke him was something else. Someone else’s pain. So vivid and real as if it were his own.
A long draught of water did little to soothe his parched throat. He returned to the window, his gaze sweeping over the fields below, painted in hues of gold and amber.
The misery that pulled Daemonikai from the dark hands of his nightmare, dragging him back to his fractured reality, was beginning to fade, leaving him with questions. Questions he could no longer ignore.
His family was gone.
There was no one else with such a profound, personal connection to him. So, whose pain had he just felt?
Dressing in his robe, Daemonikai strode out of his chambers.
Time to get answers.
And he knew exactly where to get them.
His guards snapped to attention, and Wegai approached, awaiting his command.
"Blackstone," Daemonikai ordered, marching forward. It was time to confront Vladya.