Chapter 26
èLLIA
It was over in half the time.
èllia dissociated during it. She drifted off, far, far off, away from that room, until she was no longer aware of what was being done to her. She was still in a state of shock when he left, the portal vanishing behind him. All her blood on the floor, gone.
Numbly, èllia crawled into her bath. The water was ice-cold, telling her she’d dissociated for much longer than she thought. èllia grabbed the sponge floating in the water and scrubbed until her flesh burned crimson, welts rising across her skin.
She wept without a sound as she did.
Although the pain felt comforting, it wasn’t enough. She needed real pain. Something that hurt enough to erase the visit from her father.
She knew just what to do. Or rather, who to go to.
Captain Izyák despised éllia. Almost as much as she despised herself.
Stepping out of the tub, she grabbed a simple white dress from her large, overfilled wardrobe.
The healing elixir she used in her bath had erased all evidence of her father.
Her skin was hers again. She was still wet when she pulled the material over her shoulders and fastened the ties over her breasts.
White always helped èllia feel… clean.
As she pulled on a pair of black, thigh-high boots to compliment it, she caught sight of her previous dress abandoned on the floor where her blood had been.
Her stomach heaved, twisting into a knot. She needed that erased, too.
Leaving her hair dripping down her back, èllia grabbed the dress and tossed it into the fire.
She watched the flames devour it before she turned away, her eyes glassy.
It was a dress she expected to destroy once her father had gone, but it still hurt to ruin such beautiful fabric.
It was one of the few dresses èllia had bought herself.
The rest were all gifts from Daigen, or whatever hopeless courtier happened to be pursuing her that week.
èllia stopped and stared at her dressing table.
The book was still there, where she placed it.
Why had her father left it? There was a note on top of the cover; the crescent moon was still glowing under the small piece of white parchment.
èllia picked the note up with suddenly shaking hands, and read her father’s distinct handwriting.
Keep the book hidden for now. Do not let anyone see it. I will know.
The long, spidery black ink darkened into a deep glistening red that suddenly bled down the page. The letters faded until the message had vanished. èllia frowned at the blank parchment. When had he written this for her? Her stomach lurched. It must have been while she dissociated.
That was the thing about dissociating. She could not control when to snap out of it.
Forcing herself not to think about her father, èllia rewrapped the book in the black cloth. She tucked it inside the small coffer she kept hidden under her bed and magically sealed it again. Only she knew the incantation. The book would be safe there, beside her private stash of gold.
With a final glance in the mirror—a pinch of her cheeks, a flick of hair, and a smile that did not reach her bloodshot eyes—èllia left her chamber.
Fortunately, the king had yet to follow through with his threat, which meant èllia was still being housed in the guest wing rather than the servants’ hall.
The memory of Daigen’s threat made her scoff as she walked down the quiet corridor.
The sun had been fading when her father arrived.
Now the moon was out, and its pale light sliced through the windows at either side of her, competing with the torches that flickered on the black walls.
It was one thing to be treated as the Bloodstone King’s whore, but to be stripped of everything?
All her pretty gowns, the jewellery, and the gold she’d spent years accumulating and tucking away for her eventual escape?
And then—and then!—her position in the palace reduced to that of a mere peasant? It was unthinkable. èllia could not let this happen.
She’d keep a low profile for a while, and stay well out of Daigen’s sight. At least until things blew over. Anything to maintain her status at court.
Her walk carried her to the edge of the palace. She entered the military wing, passing the rows of barracks where soldiers laughed over their suppers.
èllia knew the captain would be dining alone, as always.
A pulse fluttered between her thighs at the thought of him.
Captain Izyák was a predictable man, and predictability èllia could use.
Control it.
The warriors’ eyes followed her every step, the hunger in them palpable.
This time èllia did not acknowledge any of them.
She didn’t want some young whelp who might be sweet and gentle with her.
She wanted Izyak—a beast who could ruin her, whose hate for her would consume her and make her hurt. Make her forget.
She found him leaving his quarters, the oaken door not quite closed behind him.
He stood in the doorway, his massive, powerful frame devouring it. Hatred smouldering in his eyes the moment he saw her. Heat answered low in èllia's body.
That look—that burning hatred Izyák kept just for her—completely undid her.
“What do you want?” he bit at her.
èllia closed the distance between them, slowly untying the front of her gown.
“I feel your rage, Captain. Every glance, every growl, every time you pretend you do not want me. I feel it burning for me. Tonight, I want that rage inside me.”
He didn’t move. Not when she shoved him back into the room or when she kicked the door with the heel of her boot. He let her. Something about the way this powerful man let her set her body aflame. She pushed him into a chair, meeting no resistance.
A quick glance around the large space confirmed they were alone.
“Now this is a first — you, quiet around me.” She swung her legs across his lap and straddled him. “What’s wrong, Captain? Has your snarl abandoned you?”
His large, scarred hand closed around her jaw. He forced her to look him in the eye, his grip bruising. èllia tried to avert her gaze, hoping to conceal the hurt that could be lingering in them, the shame her father always left in her.
Izyák's fingers pressed deeper into her cheeks, commanding her to be still.
His eyes snared her. Had they always been this shade of crimson, as if blood had cooled to stone inside them? For a moment they stopped glaring as they flicked between her own, then they narrowed again.
And then a knife pressed to her throat.
“What game do you play?”
The warning in the captain’s voice made èllia shiver.
“No game,” she purred, opening the rest of her gown, baring herself to him. “Just an offering. Don’t you want it?”
She rolled her hips, testing him. Testing herself. A moan left her as she pulled his hand down between her legs. The dagger’s curved handle pressed cold and merciless against her.
“Don’t you want to finally take what you’ve denied yourself so long?”
His grip on her neck tightened, but he did not pull his other hand away.
He slid the handle farther, finding her heat and taking command of it.
èllia moaned and tried to throw back her head, but the other hand on her throat kept her in place, demanding her surrender. She’d give it—if he hurt her right.
“I want to know what game you play, éllia.”
She flashed him a seductive grin. “The game we’ve always played, Captain. Only this time, I’m going to make you bleed for it.”
She squeezed her thighs and clenched around him. He could kill her at that very second… Oh, gods, it just turned her on more. She really was as sick and twisted as her father said. Tainted.
She slid her other hand to the captain’s belt. He still choked her, still teased her with the handle, while he watched her reach down and take out his cock. His other hand stayed on her throat, claiming her voice, her breath, while she moved the knife aside and took him in one ruthless thrust.
He hissed, his hips jerking, the blade biting her thigh as she sank fully onto him. Gods, he was so thick and hard. He would ruin her wonderfully.
“Mmmm… yes!” èllia moaned. She felt herself stretch and almost tear around him.
His hand moved from her throat to her breast and he squeezed her painfully, never looking away from her.
“Yes, like that. Mm, yeah!” She rested her lips against his face, a breath near his mouth, and felt him shudder and twitch inside her.
“I need you to keep hurting me like that. Hit me, choke me. Do whatever you want to me. Just don’t be gentle.
” She trailed her tongue up the side of his face. “I need it rough.”
He drew the knife up her belly, dragging the blood-stained tip lightly.
èllia arched, desperate for another taste of that searing edge. But the captain did not touch her the way she ached. He grabbed the back of her damp hair and dragged her down, forcing their lips to meet.
èllia froze. Kissing was her only rule. The one thing she had never surrendered.
Not even Daigen.
Panic seized her. Intimacy was worse than pain. It made you weak. Vulnerable.
She twisted in his lap, raking her nails across his chest, hating that part of her responded to the heat of his mouth. He thrust hard into her, kissing her violently, his hand on her nape refusing to let her pull away.
Desperate to free herself, she bit down on his lip—drawing blood.
The captain hissed and finally removed his hand, touching where the blood had surfaced. Shock—and more wonderfully, hatred—flamed in his eyes.
“You fucking witch!”
His hand came down on the side of her face, striking èllia with such staggering force that her vision momentarily blackened. The blow sent her head snapping to the side. The knife slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor.
With a smile, èllia licked the blood from her lips slowly. The captain twitched inside her as she leaned in to taste the blood on his mouth, his cock still hard and throbbing.