Chapter 17
Elariya
“Nothing but Shadows to Follow”
Against the wall, my body froze, becoming foreign to me. The cold wood bit into my back, but I barely felt it through the waves of terror twisting my insides.
Terror. And those lingering words Wolfe uttered, claiming me as his.
You belong to me now.
Gods. I’d never met anyone who could threaten me and throw my emotions into a lethal frenzy in the same breath.
My heart thundered against my ribs like a storm-forged hammer, each savage beat threatening to shatter me as I gazed down at those merciless silver-blue eyes, holding the promise of untold horrors.
Wolfe’s shadow magic cracked through the air, stirring the tattered remnants of my dress that lay on the ground in a grave of lace and silk.
I couldn’t believe he’d shredded the dress from me. As if it were no different from paper. And what he said about Thayden…
Blessed Mother. As horrid as Thayden was, I didn’t want Wolfe to hurt him.
The raw menace lurking in his eyes sang to me as loudly as the bonds from the shackle. I realized when he first yanked me back that the shackle really was singing earlier. Like a living being.
What in the hells was Wolfe planning to do next?
Each of my breaths came in short, desperate gasps that weakened my trembling limbs. Sweat beaded along my spine as shadows danced around him like devils.
And still, my damn body betrayed me with desire and something else I refused to name.
The devil grinned as if he could read my mind then fluttered his fingers.
I thought he was going to make good on his threat and strip me bare, but instead, I plummeted from the air.
A desperate shriek tore from my lips, and I hated that as he caught me, I reached for him, grabbing on to his shirt as if I could trust him to keep me from hitting the ground.
Realizing my mistake, I released him and tried to get out of his grasp, but he held me in place, locking me against the steel walls of his chest.
“Not so fast, Ziyka.” Wolfe still sounded as unhinged as a raving lunatic.
“Put me down now.” I kept my voice steady and neutral, hoping he’d release me without any further drama.
“As you wish.” That mirthless grin stretched and he carried me over to the bed. Then the bastard made a point of setting me down in the center of the soft bedding I’d refused to sleep on. My mind protested with stubbornness, but my aching body welcomed the softness like balm on an open sore.
Wolfe leaned forward, looming before me. “I’m definitely going to enjoy breaking you in the most delicious of ways, Ziyka.”
The deep timbre of his voice pulsed low in my core, stirring desire I shouldn’t feel.
I wanted to argue. Say something. Anything to preserve my pride. But I held my tongue. Every time I’d fought with this bastard, I’d only made things worse for myself.
“Get dressed. It’s getting colder. You don’t want to freeze in that thing with all these males around. You’re already showing too much.”
Shit. He was talking about my pebbled nipples that were pressing against the thin silk of my shift. It was cold in here, but it wasn’t just the cold that was making my body react.
I grabbed the sheet and covered myself.
With a hard stare, Wolfe backed away, then walked through the door, leaving me trembling once again. The silence he left behind felt as oppressive as his presence.
I pressed a weary hand to my head. If every day was going to be like this, I wasn't going to last. Wolfe was insufferable, volatile, and downright terrifying. That rage seemed to amplify when it came to my dress.
How did he even know Thayden got it for me?
I sighed, the answer crashing a heartbeat later. Arielle…
Of course, she must have told him. She saw inside my head. But clearly, she didn't know how much I despised the dress.
I didn’t want Wolfe’s clothes because I feared that wearing them would feel like a mark of ownership.
Now I had no choice.
The awful truth was that fighting against beings who wielded magic as easily as breathing wasn't just foolhardy, it was self-destruction. What happened just now was testament to that.
I couldn't fight Wolfe physically or magically. He was far too powerful, and that damn magical shackle gave him complete control over me.
Then there was that other thing. That crazy, crazy, uncontrollable thing that burrowed through my soul when Wolfe was near me.
It made my mind and body react in ways I never imagined. There was no sense to it, yet I indulged in the madness. And then the madness made me indulge in him.
That stroke of madness had made me misinterpret what he was talking about when he first barged in.
From the salacious look in his eyes, I fully believed he’d decided to go barbarian on me and take me. My cheeks burned again at the memory of the humiliation. And he was so crass about my mistake.
Him telling me he didn’t touch he fucked made it worse.
Gods, I’d never met anyone like him. He’d left my nerves as scattered as the remnants of my dress on the floor marking my final act of defiance.
Hopelessly, I gaped at the pile, then glanced over to the neatly folded clothes across from me.
With a groan, I grabbed the deep blue tunic on top. Fine wool caressed my fingers, the butter-soft texture whispering of its quality.
My fingers trembled as I pulled it over my head. The warmth of the fabric soothed me, though I recognized the false comfort for what it was—another of Wolfe's traps.
I stood and grabbed the pair of pants. The moment I slipped them on, the lock on the door clicked open.
My breath caught and I stared at the door, waiting for whoever opened it to come in. No one did.
I continued waiting for a few more heartbeats, then decided to check it out.
Through the sliver of the opening, I looked out to the hallway. I braved poking my head through and checking only to find it clear.
What was this?
What did it mean?
Opening the door couldn’t have been an accident. I got the feeling Wolfe wasn’t the type to let anything slip past him. Not like this.
So… it was done intentionally?
And it happened the moment I put the clothes on.
Bastard. He was still watching me. The instant the thought formed in my mind, the unsettling weight of his lingering presence made my skin crawl. Some part of his essence was still here.
Being allowed to leave the room wasn’t mercy. It was an uncanny reward for following his damn orders. A reminder that no matter how far I wandered, I belonged to him. As if I were some sort of pet.
I inched back into the room, leaving the door ajar.
My heart sped up with anticipation. If I left the room, what should I do?
Gods… how I’d love to escape but that wasn’t going to happen.
Free as I was to leave the room, there was no way Wolfe would allow me to roam the ship with the risk that I might escape. Even if that meant jumping overboard.
If I walked around, would I see the others? Like Arielle? Or the other Fae onboard.
I didn’t want to speak to anyone. I couldn’t imagine what I’d talk about. And how would they treat me? To them, I was the daughter of the man who murdered their king. They might treat me no differently than if I’d killed him myself.
Light footsteps suddenly filled the hallway. I braced my heart for another battle. Things happened in threes, right?
Wolfe and Arielle's visits had left me as drained as a candle burning at both ends.
The footsteps were too light to be Wolfe's, but that didn't mean it wasn't him. Earlier, he'd appeared in front of me like a ghost.
I held my breath, waiting for whatever torment would walk through that door. When it swung open, relief flooded through me as the woodland sprite glided in, balancing a tray laden with delicious-looking food.
Unlike yesterday, when he barely looked at me, his pixie features softened when he caught my gaze, his lips curving into what might have passed for a smile.
“My lady, your food as requested by Lord Nightblade.” The squeaky voice matched his delicate features.
Lord Nightblade. The title struck me anew, giving me glimpses into Wolfe’s nobility and highborn power.
“He asked me to prepare some food he'd observed you enjoying back home.”
My stomach clenched. When had Wolfe watched me eat?
The answer sprawled before me on the tray with dishes from my engagement celebration. Strawberries drowning in clotted cream nestled in a crystal bowl, surrounded by an array of meat-filled sandwiches.
Mother had prepared most of the celebration food herself, filling the tables with my favorites to calm my nerves about Thayden.
Memories of home carved an ache in my chest. Mother and the others felt worlds away already, though I'd barely left them behind.
“My Lady.” The sprite’s voice pulled me back. “Lord Nightblade cautions that you'll need your strength for the rough waters ahead. The crossing between realms devours those with empty stomachs.”
“I've… never crossed realms before.” I spoke in a mindless rasp, the comment more to myself than to the sprite.
Sympathy softened his otherworldly features. “It’s quite the experience, I promise. I've crossed a few times myself. By ship proves the most spectacular. There’s something magical about sailing through the Veil.” His enthusiasm sparked despite his formal demeanor. “You'll see.”
His gentleness soothed something raw inside me. “Maybe.”
“I am Sirril, my Lady. I'll serve as your assistant while you’re under Lord Nightblade's care.”
He made it sound like Wolfe was my guardian. Did he not know my true status here? Surely, he must have.
“Nice to meet you.” My attempt at a smile felt foreign, the muscles straining from disuse. After everything, I'd forgotten how to form one.
“Please.” He lifted the tray with fluid grace. “Eat.”
“Alright.”
He set the fresh tray beside this morning's untouched offerings. Before I could apologize, he snapped his fingers, vanishing the old food in a sparkle of fairy light.
“My Lady.” He bowed and glided out, leaving the door open, another reminder of Wolfe's calculated mercy.