Chapter 21
Vesper
Lord Valium, as I liked to call him, due to his lack of emotion, considered me a fool, someone clueless about this realm and its hidden secrets.
But I was more astute than he realized. I had devoured countless fantasy and mystical novels in my youth, and I wasn't going to be outpaced in a world of magik, especially after Oryx had brought me into this house.
Benedict provided us with books so I could assist Oryx in improving his reading, which was progressing much quicker than I had expected. Additionally, he included books specifically for my benefit, with notes tucked inside intended solely for me.
Read this in your own time, while he sleeps.— Benedict.
Benedict would wink at me when he brought a new book, and I'd become absorbed in it for hours after he fell asleep. Oryx thought he was taking too much blood and that my orgasms were too intense, since I struggled to get out of bed in the mornings.
On the contrary, I was learning everything I could about where the hell I was!
I mean, his blood drinking and the orgasms weren’t bad, but I needed to up my game here. I needed to know who I was dealing with.
Veylor was a puzzle and if he was going to be getting closer to Oryx I needed to understand him.
And knowing what he was was the first step.
A lich.
Although I didn't manage to find any books specifically detailing Veylor’s history, Benedict gave me books that described exactly what Veylor was.
The pages were filled with scribbles and cryptic markings etched into these books.
Like where to find such spells to complete a transformation to becoming a lich.
One book detailed the arcane rituals necessary to transform into this creature.
The transformation I read about for becoming a lich was nothing short of horrifying.
Their souls were violently torn from their bodies, a torment described as more excruciating than being hacked into tiny pieces while still conscious.
In my opinion, it is a cursed fate to become this undead warlock, to wield immense power only after your very essence is wrenched from your body, and then. .. your heart is claimed as well.
The very essence of a lich's existence is tied to its heart, a vital core that ensures its survival.
This heart must be concealed in a hidden location, where not a single soul could stumble upon it. Should it fall into the wrong hands, the bearer of this powerful artifact could essentially command the lich's every action or even bring about its demise.
Unlike other beings, when a lich meets its end, it does not journey to the Under Shadows.
A lich’s soul will never descend to the Under Shadows to rest.
The very essence of the lich's soul is violently pulverized and obliterated, consumed in a brutal series of dark spells and potent potions to achieve the lich's final transformation.
This ruthless magik anchors their corpse in a state of eternal undeath, rendering their power formidable and nearly unstoppable.
Forever the lich will stay on the living plane and never rest.
It was rather sad.
For that trade, however, he could pull dark magik from the Under Shadows. He was powerful.
Liches always fear their heart being discovered because if someone finds it, they can control them or destroy them completely.
I became so consumed by what he had done to himself I wanted to forget all the other books that Benedict gave me, but I knew I had to move on. I had to know what this world around me was like.
The realm I was now in was called Velmoura. Mostly a fae species realm with some small minority races such as vampires, goblins, fairies, and other sorts I haven’t even heard of. The history spoke most of the land being peaceful but that made me shake my head immediately.
No lands are peaceful, Earth was never peaceful and even with magik I highly doubt fae got along all the time.
These books were old however, and I didn’t know what year I was in currently. Something I would have to ask Benedict about later. Anyway, I did figure out that the lands were split into several courts and Lord Veylor is part of the Shadow Court located in the Duskhold territory.
It made sense.
He was tall, dark, and dreary.
Lord Valium suited him.
He needed to get laid.
He had no emotions other than scowling and looking constipated. He does throw a great tantrum though with all the puffy clouds and lightning bolts. Good thing I did read that book about dark magik and what it entailed.
If he didn’t act like he had an incubus horn up his ass he might even look handsome.
Who was I kidding? He was handsome, and that made me want to hate him more.
There was a pull there that made me want to get to know him, just like I did Oryx, which was strange. That little longing to figure him out, but I couldn’t, not the way I did with Oryx.
Veylor was the one who created Oryx, and they were friends.
Maybe more? He had dark intense eyes when he looked at Oryx. Maybe there was something there.
My role was simply to assist in mending their relationship.
It was wise to keep my strong aversion to the tall, dark, skeletal figure with a sharp jawline and wispy hair—who exuded a "maybe I can fix him" aura—separate from my emotions.
Maintaining a mere acquaintanceship with him was the most sensible approach.
It was good to work with him for a short time, teach him to sew skin, and that be that.
Besides, Oryx was everything sweet, obsessive, and possessive. Everything I wanted.
Veylor looked at me in disgust.
That didn’t bother me.
No, I didn’t care.
Not one bit.
I didn’t want to get to know him other than use him to make my Orie happy, because I loved him.
With all my heart.
It was unreasonably fast, and I couldn’t say it out loud yet.
What if Oryx repairs his bond with Veylor and decides to abandon me? It's unsettling because Oryx is just starting to comprehend the world, as if his mind has expanded beyond its simple, primitive thoughts to something more fae, or perhaps human? I can't decide if this change is good or bad for us.
Whatever relationship I uncover with Veylor and Oryx, there is that slim chance that there will be no room for me. I remember what Veylor said. I was a wench, and I was poisoning his creation.
Were they lovers? Do friendships invoke that much emotion?
Until I knew, I wouldn’t utter those three little words out loud, but I was having trouble fighting my body.
I wanted to take things to the next level, but damn it I was scared to. I was scared to lose Oryx in the process and get my heart broken.
Oryx wasn’t making it any easier either.
Oryx had clearly been learning. Whether by instinct, reading risqué books on his own, or asking Benedict for advice…because his attempts to please me had noticeably increased. He was getting far too creative in the bedroom.
He would get his dick as close to my pussy as he could. Those little suckers would attach to my clit and pulse and vibrate. He would even bend me over and whisper the most dirty and vile things into my ear as he pressed his cock between my thighs and pulse it between my legs.
Just this morning he had me face down in the pillows, his big claws holding my hips while his cock pulsed and was bringing me to my third orgasm and told me he couldn’t wait to take my pretty pink cunt and claim it for himself.
I took a deep breath and sighed, a hand running down my face.
But then he told me how much he cared for me after, and gave me the best aftercare I have ever read in a book, and asked if he was too rough with me.
And he wasn’t even inside me.
Oh gods, I think I came a little.
A loud bang came from the table beside me. Veylor’s fists were still, almost as still as his unbeating chest.
Though technically dead, the magik coursing through his veins animates his body, making his chest rise and fall as if breathing.
His nostrils flare as the air passes through them, hinting at a semblance of life.
He gazed down at me with a sneer etched across his face, a twisted expression that revealed his disdain.
The pointed tips of his ears twitch ever so slightly, a subtle movement that betrays his heightened senses. I struggle to muster a smile, the corners of my lips barely curving upwards, attempting to mask the unease that churns within me.
It appears I get under his skin as much as he does mine.
“Are you done daydreaming, or are you going to clean up the specimen?”
I’m supposed to be sanitizing the bodies, preparing them for the table. We have spent the better part of two days selecting parts for new vessels. Three to be exact. We needed to cut bone, trim skin, make sure all the organs were available and healthy.
Although their bodies were undead and sustained by magik, their souls remained attached to them. They could still eat and drink, and their organs continued to function like a living body’s. It was important to choose the right parts.
I think Veylor thought I would want to bow out. He was ready for me to retch into the nearby sink and leave the room and tell him to forget it, which would have voided the contract. Ha, he would think so but I’ve done worse than this.
This was a walk in the park.
“I was just thinking. I need to go to the back, this hand won’t do.” I picked it up by the wrist, it was a male’s hand and the vessel we were creating was meant for a female. If I was a woman, I would want a dainty one, not one with sausage fingers that had been broken one too many times.
As I strolled past him, I playfully waved the object near his face—a gloved hand, fingers frozen in a permanent wave.
Veylor, as usual, remained stone-faced, his eyes not betraying even a hint of amusement.
I carried the hand with me to the storeroom, pushing open the heavy door.
The air inside was cool and slightly damp, enveloping me in a musty embrace.
Across the hall, my gaze lingered on the door that stood in shadow, the one I was strictly forbidden to touch.
“Never go near it, don’t even think about it,” he said ominously.
He’s just asking for me to touch it.
I bit my lip, my eyes drawn to the intricately carved wooden door at the end of the dimly lit corridor.
Its mysterious allure held me captive for more than just a passing moment.
Suddenly, Veylor's grip clamped down on my arm like a vice.
Before I could react, he wrenched my arm behind my back with a swift, practiced motion, forcing my cheek against the cold, rough surface of the stone wall.
His breath was hot and close to my ear as he growled, “What did I say about that door? Do you humans have the memory of a mere goldfish?”
Oh, he’s witty. That was kind of funny.
And his breath was warm on my cheek.
How is that possible?
I rolled my eyes anyway and elbowed him in his rib. “I thought I saw a spider. Just wanted to see if they were the same species as earth you twat. Let go of me.”
He huffed in annoyance. “You aren’t allowed back here anymore. I can’t trust you.” Veylor’s body pressed into me more, my breasts felt heavy, and my heart raced.
Veylor’s grip tightened, and I could feel the cold emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the warmth of his breath. It was an eerie reminder of what he truly was. I could sense his anger, but there was something else lurking beneath it—maybe lust?
Then I felt him. His hips pressing against my backside, his growing erection unmistakable. His nose traced slowly up my neck and into my hair, and it took everything in me not to let a whine slip out.
I should not like this. I should not want him to pin me to this wall and...
Oryx needs to fuck it out of my system. That’s all.
"You think you can play games with me?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "You think you can defy me and there will be no consequences?"
I scoffed, trying to hide the way my body was reacting to his proximity. "And what is it that you will do? You can’t do much without ruining your relationship with Oryx or breaking our contract."
He spun me around, his dark eyes bore into mine. There was a storm raging within them, a battle between hatred and something much more complex. "Do not test me, human," he warned, his voice like thunder.
I met his gaze steadily, refusing to back down. "Or what? You'll throw another tantrum? I've seen worse from toddlers."
"You think this is a game?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "This is not your world, little girl. You do not understand the rules here."
Little girl?
I scoffed, twisting my neck to look at him. "And you do? You're just a puppet master, pulling strings and hiding behind your magik. You're not even alive, Veylor. You're just a corpse playing God."
His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, I thought I saw a hint of pain. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual stoic expression. He releases me abruptly, stepping back as if I had burned him.
"You know nothing about me," he said coldly. "And you would do well to remember your place."
I turned to face him fully, rubbing my arm where he had gripped it.
And where is that, exactly? Because I wasn’t sure.
"Finish your work," he commanded, turning his back to me. "And stay away from that door. It is not a request."
Veylor turned his back to me so I did the next best thing and stuck my tongue out at him.
He halted abruptly and let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. A tendril of hair escaped from the neat bun atop his head, curling against his neck. "Just keep your distance from that door," he muttered, his voice carrying a grave warning. "It's not something you should trifle with."