Chapter 67
Lex
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
“So you’re just supposed to Bond this girl, fuck her, and then we just .
. . leave?” Ilyas asked for what felt like the millionth time as we quickly packed our travel bags.
We were departing in the morning with the regiments Lord d’Refan hand-selected for the mission to the Valley.
After long weeks of preparation, both in the war room with the General and Lord d’Refan and in the training grounds, Lord d’Refan informed the General this afternoon that we were to be ready to leave by first light.
My movements were jerky as I shoved a spare set of clothes and boots into the recesses of my ruck.
My body shook with uncontrollable tremors.
My skin was pale and sallow, a sheen of sweat covered my forehead.
My appetite was almost nonexistent these last few weeks, and I felt weak.
Memories from my time on the streets always hovered just out of reach, and nightmares about what we planned for the Keepers in the Valley kept me awake most nights.
I couldn’t even find solace in Ilyas’ steady heartbeat as we lay together at night. I’d taken my aggression, fear, and disgust with myself out on his body numerous times over the last week, and he’d never asked why. Simply let me take what I needed.
And now he was concerned about the Forced Bonding that would take place in mere moments.
Beautiful, supportive Ilyas.
What would he think if he knew what I suggested we do to these people?
My stomach rolled at the thought, and I paused my packing.
Ilyas took that opportunity to fold my shaking, sweating hands in his own large, warm ones. He gently pulled me to my feet before gathering me into his chest, folding his body around my own. I shook with sobs as he held me.
He was too good for me.
“Talk to me, my Mage. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how I can help,” he whispered into my hair as he gently stroked my back. My fingers clutched the corded muscles of his spine tighter as I desperately tried to pull him into me. I needed his innate strength, his love and devotion.
“You can’t.” My voice cracked on a broken whisper as I sobbed into his chest.
“Let me try?” he cajoled, and I sniffed, pulling away from his embrace as I wiped my swollen eyes. His gaze only held concern and love. “You’ve been hiding something these past few weeks, Lex. Let me help. Please.”
It was the plea that broke me. I sat heavily on our bed, head in my hands, as I poured out every secret I’d held since walking into the General’s room that day weeks ago.
Ilyas sat at my feet, hands on my calves and face pressed to my knees, never moving more than to comfort me as I admitted my sins.
He held me as I cried, stroked my hair and arms as I shook with fear and disgust. But he never once admonished me, never once told me I was wrong.
“That’s a lot to hold onto,” he admitted once I was finally done with my story.
I laughed weakly. “Yeah, it is.”
“I understand why you did it,” he said softly as he pulled my body flush with his on the bed. We’d lain down at some point, taking comfort in each other’s presence and bodies.
“You do?”
Ilyas huffed a laugh, his breath feathering into my hair.
“Yeah, Lex. I do. You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met.
Even after everything that has been done to you, the shit you’ve experienced, your heart is pure gold.
You are literally sacrificing your soul, the inner pieces that make you you, and you kept it from me to ease my own burden? ”
I felt my body tremble again, warmth and coldness simultaneously rushing through me at his admission.
I’m not selfless. Not by a long shot. If I were, I would’ve refused Lord d’Refan’s offer.
“Even if you had told Lord d’Refan ‘no’ and let yourself burn out, he would’ve found a way to make this . . . conquest happen,” Ilyas consoled, seemingly reading my thoughts.
I hummed as we lapsed into companionable silence, Ilyas stroking my hair and back continuously, until a light knock sounded on our door.
“Come in,” I called, not bothering to remove myself from the bed or Ilyas’ comforting embrace.
The door opened a moment later, and the General filled the space.
His face was drawn and taught, the dark circles under his eyes the most prominent I’d ever seen.
His normally neat hair was wild and mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it constantly.
If my soul was fractured, it wasn’t a stretch to think that his was perhaps ruptured beyond repair.
“She’s ready for you,” he grunted, his eyes focused on Ilyas and me as we lay entwined together. Something akin to longing flashed across his face before he schooled his expression again. “I suggest not making her wait. Everyone is already . . . rushed and on edge.”
It didn’t take a genius to understand he really meant that Lord d’Refan was on edge. For mine and my Bonded’s sake, I didn’t wish to provoke the unhinged man any further. I gently pried myself from Ilyas’ grasp, softly pressing a kiss to his cheek and forehead before climbing off the bed.
I quickly grabbed my ruck as Ilyas moved to do the same. The General made a small noise in the back of his throat, and I whipped my head to him, fire steeling my spine.
“My True Bonded will be in attendance as well. He is mine and I am his. It is a nonnegotiable,” I bit out. General d’Alvey looked mildly surprised before a look of calm acceptance settled across his features.
“Good. I expected nothing less,” he admitted, clapping me on the shoulder once before the three of us strode from my room.
The Bonding room remained unchanged from when Ilyas and I completed the ritual nearly a year ago.
A large bed—with what appeared to be the same linens—and a singular wooden chair adorned the space.
I took the same place in bed, Ilyas standing steadfastly next to my shoulder with his arms crossed and a worried frown on his beautiful face, as the Pain Vessel moved under the covers to my right.
She was quiet, but moved with a confident grace that I couldn’t decide if I liked or abhorred.
She seemed to constantly be smirking, her eyes lit with a deep-seated intelligence that I could tell unnerved Ilyas.
Not that either of us were unintelligent, but we definitely didn’t have opportunities growing up poor in pleasure houses in Vespera.
It was clear, though, that this woman was raised in an aristocratic family. She dressed well, spoke eloquently, and moved with the grace of a cat.
She was captivating and completely unnerving.
And I was supposed to Bond her.
I didn’t even know her fucking name.
Itching settled just beneath the surface of my skin as I thought about the Bonding Ceremony and what would have to happen directly after the ceremony, in the presence of my True Bonded, no less.
Not that I didn’t want Ilyas here—his company settled some of the restlessness that was aching to be released, but I still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about me Bonding a second Vessel.
Sensing my tension and agitation, Ilyas placed one strong hand on my shoulder and squeezed tight. I covered his hand with my own before pulling away so the acolyte could make the necessary cuts and marks.
“What is your name?” I murmured as the acolyte slashed my left forearm before drawing runes on the Pain Vessel’s right with my blood.
Her light-brown, almond-shaped eyes leapt away from the blood mark on her skin to my face.
“Sasori,” she intoned, her voice smooth and lilting like the whiskey of her eyes.
“That’s a beautiful name,” I said, and she smiled with a slight bow of her head.
“You’re Lex, and your Bonded is Ilyas,” she stated, and I nodded my head, even though it wasn’t a question.
“True Bonded,” Ilyas added unnecessarily, and I internally cringed.
Managing two Bonded might be more than I bargained for.
Sasori simply hummed as the acolyte proceeded to slash her own arm and draw the corresponding rune on my right forearm.
As soon as the marks were complete, I felt the Bond snap into place again.
But this time it felt . . . wrong. Completely foreign.
Like it wasn’t supposed to be in my chest at all.
I rubbed at the spot as my brows creased.
The Bond felt heavy and cumbersome, even a bit sluggish.
Like pulling on it to draw magic would take time and coaxing, rather than the instantaneous leap from Ilyas.
“What’s wrong?” Ilyas asked, instantly sensing my distress. I shook my head, waving him off.
“Nothing, just different,” I explained, not wanting Sasori—my new Bonded—to feel inadequate or like her Bond was somehow inferior to the connection I had with Ilyas.
Using her as a Vessel was going to take some practice and time. Two things I wouldn’t be afforded.
“I don’t think I need to tell you what comes next at this point?” the acolyte deadpanned with a slight tilt of his head as he wiped the blade on its leather binding.
“No, thank you. I understand my obligations,” I intoned. With a nod of his head, the acolyte left, clicking the door shut behind him.
Instantly, Sasori rolled from her side of the bed so she was straddling my hips. I jumped in shock and Ilyas growled a low warning.
While I’d been able to move past the crippling fear of the physical act of sex, Ilyas and I still took things slow.
Whenever we were intimate, he always—always—let me initiate and set the pace.
If I ever started having a flashback—which happened on more than one occasion—we stopped completely and talked about it. No hesitation, no guilt.
That was simply Ilyas.
Somehow, though, I knew that wasn’t going to be viable for Sasori. Where Ilyas was all rounded curves and bearhugs, she was sharp points and stinging nettle. Perhaps, in time, I could grow to love and appreciate her in her own way.
This, though?
This right now was just a fuck. Just sex to seal something that we apparently both needed.