Chapter 3
Voss
The more she squirmed, the more tightly I held her, breathing her in with desperate urgency. I couldn’t help myself. One whiff of her sweet, delicate scent and my rage was gone. Extinguished. I was at peace, and I hadn’t felt so well, so easy and good, in years.
Maybe never.
“Let me go!” she squealed, her voice choked and panicky, and that penetrated through the thick mist of wellbeing that wrapped around my head and filled my body.
My bride was in pain.
I let her go at once, stumbling back. Only a lash of my tail prevented me from falling as I watched her, bent in half, her hands on her knees as she gulped quick, shallow breaths. Her face was flushed, hair and her pale green dress disheveled.
A pang of guilt so strong it hurt with physical pain tore through my chest.
“I’m so ssssorry, ssalamiya,” I said, the words escaping before I had time to control myself. “Please, forgive me. I never… I didn’t…”
My tongue twisted into knots trying to express the inexpressible.
How she smelled like peace and happiness, the most beautiful scent I had ever sampled in my life. How she soothed and calmed the vicious, primeval wrath taking more and more of me until I was sure I would get lost in it.
How she gave me hope when I felt doomed.
Alina straightened, watching me warily yet with no enmity. I felt a new urge to gather her in my arms and never let go, because she was so precious. One of a kind.
The only person who didn”t shy away from my gaze.
She looked in my eyes without fear, like I was her equal, like I was worthy.
It had been years since anyone met my gaze so openly. I wanted to drown in her eyes and never come out.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, her throat clicking with dryness.
I looked away, so ashamed, I felt unworthy of meeting her trusting gaze. My bride was afraid, and it was my fault. Because in my greed for her scent and warmth, I was careless.
“Because your scent soothes my suffering,” I said, doing my best to explain what I felt. “And I wanted more. But I shouldn’t have done that. I scared you. That’s reprehensible.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw her step from foot to foot, her body language that of curiosity, not fear.
“Suffering?” she asked. “You mean, you’re in pain?”
I shook my head, lightness filling my chest despite the distance between us. “Not any more. Because you’re near.”
She gasped softly, and I dared look up. Truth was, I couldn’t deny myself her sight. She was alien and strange, with soft, easily damaged skin, long hair that had tickled my nose when I held her, and a heartbeat so much faster and flightier than mine.
Her body radiated warmth I wanted to bask in like it was my personal sun. She was it, the right female for me, and my body sang with recognition.
And yet, it wasn’t as it should be, because she was human, and I was not. Had she been a basilisk, she would have felt the same things I did. We would be already locked together at this stage, two perfect mates recognizing each other, their bodies joining in union.
Need burned in my loins, hot and insistent, but there was no relief. My bride evidently didn’t feel the same fire. If anything, she looked anxious. I felt every cold inch of the distance stretching between us.
Would she run? Had I just damaged my mate’s trust with a single careless gesture?
The door opened, and the priestess came in, bearing two copper cups for the marriage ceremony. A sudden piercing fear flowed into my veins like a cold current, making my pupils expand, my body tense.
What if I’d messed up beyond redemption? What if I scared my bride so much, she wouldn’t have me now?
I looked at her in alarm, familiar fury already rising at the thought of losing her. My fingers itched with the need to grip her and never let go. This was a primal instinct, something left over from the time my species was closer to animal than sentient being. It couldn’t be controlled.
Nothing stopped the wild urgency of mating. Not reason, not hunger, not fear or greed.
If she took a single step toward the door, I would give chase like a mindless beast. There was no saving me now.
My entire existence hinged on her.
So when Alina smiled faintly at the priestess and slowly stepped closer to me instead of the door, I relaxed, my instincts settling with satisfaction. She was mine. In a few minutes, it would be official.
“Are you ready?” the priestess asked, looking at my bride and avoiding my eyes.
“Yes. Let’s get started,” Alina answered with certainty.
Then she looked up at me, her face open and serious, her pretty green eyes sparkling in the light of the eternal flame. As the priestess busied herself with preparations, my bride whispered, “How near do you need me?”
Nearer than was decent, but I didn’t say that. “As near as you feel comfortable,” I answered truthfully. Because such was her power over me. I would take anything she gave me and kiss her feet for the privilege.
She shuffled closer and slowly put her delicate hand in mine. I shivered from the pleasure of her touch.
When the priestess was ready, she beckoned us closer. I held Alina’s hand like it was the most precious thing in the world, leading her to the fire. I requested a basilisk wedding ceremony, which was usually done in private, but the temple’s policy was that a priestess had to witness the union so there was no doubt it took place.
“Alina, are you sure?” the priestess asked, avoiding my eyes. I stiffened, bracing for disappointment, but my bride nodded briefly.
“Please, keep going.”
“Good,” the priestess said, and if she was disappointed or sorry for Alina, she didn’t show it. “Basilisks have no wedding vows as such. All you have to do is take some of this paste and paint your symbol on your groom. Ideally, it’s something of personal meaning.”
She offered Alina the bowl of paste, but my bride didn’t take it. She glanced up at my face and away, and then slowly, fearfully, focused her eyes on mine. I almost recoiled. Now, there was the same tension around her eyes as there was on anyone else who spoke to me.
“Basilisk?” she asked, her voice growing tense. “Is that… who you are?”
“I will never hurt you,” I said with force, looking into her eyes and willing her to trust me. “Please. Look at me. My eyes are covered. They are harmless.”
I was so terrified she would become like everyone else, a careful, scared creature who never even deigned to look at me. Thinking my bride, of all people, might avoid my gaze, made pain and fury boil in my chest. I forced a deep breath into my lungs, letting her calming scent wash over me.
She squeezed my hand. When I looked down, I met her eyes for just a moment before they flitted away. It wasn’t enough to appease me, but as she reached for the paste, I forced my shoulders to unclench.
There would be time. I’d win her trust, her love, her pleasure, and finally, the open eye contact that was so precious to me.
The paste was red, and I watched, mesmerized, as she dipped her finger into it, frowning in thought. When she raised her hand, I lowered my head at once to make my face easier to reach. Alina still didn’t look into my eyes, instead focusing on my cheek as she painted it with a light touch.
“It’s ashqiz,” she said softly. “The rune for happiness. My grandmother taught me some of the runes, and this is my favorite.”
She dipped for more paste and I held my breath. There was no magic in the rune, it was just a symbol, and yet, a shiver went down my spine. My mate had marked me. She was mine.
“And this is shurhiz,” she murmured. “For longevity. Together, they mean ‘a long, happy life’.”
She finished and wiped her hand on the napkin the priestess offered her. I didn’t wait for her to hand me my bowl of paste but plucked it gently from her hand, turning to my bride. I was eager for the ritual to be complete.
Alina smiled, looking at my cheek, and offered me her face. I started on her forehead, painting a swirling circle crossed through with a vertical line. The ceremony didn’t call for speaking, but since she explained the meaning of her symbols to me, I did the same for her.
“This is the ancient symbol of my clan. It means I welcome you into my royal bloodline,” I said, dipping for more paste.
Her eyes flashed to mine in surprise, a beautiful, glittering moment of connection. Then she looked aside, but I still cherished that brief look. She’d be back to her trusting ways in no time, and I would bask in her eyes.
“This is my name,” I said, painting a jagged line with a swirling tail on her right cheek. “It means I claim you as my mate.”
She swallowed, and I reached for her other cheek, painting a perfect circle there.
“And this is the basilisk symbol for a broodmother,” I whispered, shivers trailing down my spine as my loins swelled with want. “To call a blessing of a fruitful life.”
Her eyes darted to mine and away, her cheeks staining with a blush under the red paint. I stepped back, surveying her face with satisfaction. It was done. She was mine.
The priestess cleared her throat. “That is all. I wish you a happy union. You can leave at your leisure.”
Alina held my hand and pulled, following the priestess, who hurried away. “Let’s go. No need to linger.”
I followed her with pleasure, thinking that she was eager to be alone with me. It was a good idea to go, anyway. My desire for her swelled and soon, it would become obvious to anyone who looked at me. I wasn’t ashamed, but I was eager to be alone with her.
In the atrium, we headed straight for the portal. Alina looked around, her movements jerky and frantic, and I frowned, wondering why. She didn’t seem like a bride happy to be with her new mate. No, she was anxious and unsettled, but I didn’t think it was because of me.
I dropped Alina’s hand and gestured for her to wait by the portal as I approached its operator.
“To the temporary portal in Sarharanda,” I told the human, who studiously avoided looking at my face.
When I looked back at Alina, she cried out in pain, her arm wrenched back by a tall, swarthy human man.
“There you are, you fucking bitch!” he screamed. “You thought you could leave me, you worthless cunt? Just wait till we get home! I’ll show you your fucking place, once and for all!”
I was vaguely aware of shouts and gasps as people in the atrium noticed the commotion. Yet that growing chaos was nothing compared to the storm of wrath brewing inside me. I stared at the man’s tanned palm. His sturdy fingers dug into the soft flesh of my bride.
She whimpered, and I lost it.
“Take your hand off my mate,” I hissed.
He looked up with a sneer. I let my secondary eyelids drop. The man’s pupils widened, his mouth opening in surprise before it grew slack.
He fell, taking Alina with him.