Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ELENA
You are nothing but what I made of you.
Elena Lisova had whispered those words in her Shadow’s ear, her breath caressing his skin as he knelt before her.
She had hissed it at him as he refused to profess his love for her, and shrieked it at him as he turned his head away from her kiss.
It was no more than the truth; after all, without her, he would have died in the elderflower clearing.
He owed his life to her, but did he appreciate all she had sacrificed for him? Of course, he did not.
It was his fault that she was chained to the Underworld this way, unable to rise aboveground and claim the glory that was her due.
Had he not been weak enough to fall victim to Katerina’s wiles, Elena would never have fled to the ruined chapel and met Sammael, never let the demon into her body and her heart.
She would never have been disgraced at the altar, humiliated in her marriage bed, and then claimed by the Darkness itself.
She had done all this for Niko Alekhin, and yet when Katerina had appeared within the walls of Elena’s sanctuary, he had chosen the arrogant, corrupt Dimi over the Vila who had given up everything for him.
He was ungrateful, and yet he still laid claim to her heart. And she would have him back again, for he was hers, and Elena-of-the-Void kowtowed to no one.
Clad in her now-dingy wedding white, she reclined on the bed where she had commanded her Shadow’s reluctant affection before Katerina had stolen him away.
Sammael had pleaded with her to change her clothes, even presenting her with an elegant dress woven from cornflower petals.
“The color of your eyes,” he’d said, giving her a hopeful smile, but Elena had tossed the thing into the hearth and watched it burn.
She had vowed to wear her wedding dress until Niko Alekhin became hers in truth, in deed as well as word.
For he would return to her six months hence, and they would be married once again, a Dark Vila and her bonded Shadow.
And this time, she would be no demure maiden, pleading with him to unhook her dress and grace her with a mere kiss.
This time, he would do as she demanded, and she would brook no refusal.
She was alone in the cottage; Sammael had stepped out, claiming he needed to take care of some boring administrative task.
Elena was beginning to suspect he could no longer stand the sight of her—Sammael, who had once worshipped her, who had claimed she was as vibrant as the setting sun.
Well, that was his insufficiency. She shone like a dark star now, resplendent in her beauty.
She belonged to the Darkness, and it to her; she wielded its might.
Once, she had viewed it with such abhorrence.
Now, she saw it was merely the other side of the Light—just as powerful, just as necessary, like the balance between night and day—and had no idea why she had feared it so.
Still, she didn’t appreciate being forced into this position against her will.
But she was nothing if resourceful. And now, as Niko cavorted aboveground with Katerina, she would find a way to reach him, for he had sworn his life to her in front of their village.
And above all else, he was a man of honor.
She lay back against the pillows, closing her eyes, and slipped a lazy hand beneath her dress.
As her hand traveled over the smooth skin of her thighs, she imagined it was Niko’s.
He had never touched her with such gentleness, such desire, but perhaps that was her own fault.
She hadn’t known enough to ask for what she needed, but Sammael had shown her the way of things.
It was unfortunate that she had cried out Niko’s name at the height of her pleasure, but what else had the demon expected? He knew where her heart lay.
Sammael had seemed unusually fussy afterward, even for him.
He’d bustled off mere minutes later to deal with his mysterious paperwork.
But that was just fine with Elena, for she valued her privacy.
Now, she could close her eyes and envision her Shadow beside her, touching her as if he craved nothing more in all the world.
Her lids flickered shut, her lashes brushing her cheeks. “Niko,” she breathed.
And then, as if she’d summoned him, she saw him: lying in the fallen leaves of a rowan tree beside Katerina, their arms wrapped tight around each other.
Moonlight illuminated the white streak in Niko’s hair, the scar on his cheek, the restless shift of his eyes behind his lids.
He was dreaming, and she wished only for him to dream of her.
“See me,” she breathed, her fingers moving faster now. “Love me.”
As if he’d heard her, Niko jerked in Katerina’s arms. He growled, the sound a Shadow made when sensing an approaching threat.
Elena would have preferred that he reciprocate her desire, but perhaps that was too much to ask. It was enough, then, that he hear her voice—that they were connected, still. That she could reach him, even across the veil between worlds.
“My Shadow,” she crooned, envisioning herself in his arms rather than Katerina.
That he clung to her the way he did the Dimi, his face in her hair and his leg wedged between hers, as if even in his sleep, he couldn’t get close enough.
She imagined inhaling his familiar scent, edged now with the burnt-amber bite of the Darkness.
“Come to me,” she urged, breathless now. “Kneel to me.”
His eyes flashed open, and he pushed up on one elbow, scanning the clearing as if expecting to find her standing there. It was true, then: he heard her voice. He was still hers.
The realization pushed her over the edge.
She cried out into the empty cottage, and his face contorted, as if the sound caused him pain.
“No,” he growled, pressing a hand against his Mark, the ink-and-blood manifestation of his bond to Katerina.
“You’re not real. Not here. You’re a nightmare, nothing more. ”
Next to him, the Dimi stirred, drawing him down to her. Elena seethed with jealousy as Katerina pressed her lips to his, murmuring words of comfort. She held Niko close, wrapping him in her magic, her fingers twining with Niko’s where they rested against the Mark.
With her touch, the fragile link that bound Elena and Niko shattered.
The clearing winked out of existence, as if the Vila had never been able to see it at all.
But as she lay in the bed Sammael had built for her, cheeks flushed and wedding dress akimbo, the magnitude of what had just occurred swept over Elena.
She could touch Niko’s mind, even aboveground. She could spy on Katerina’s doings, as long as the Dimi and Niko were together. And that meant she never truly had to be parted from her Shadow, even though six months must pass before they were reunited.
Or must it? The Darkness grew more powerful each day; she felt its insistent press within her soul. And she belonged to it, just as Niko Alekhin belonged to her. If she could inhabit his dreams and speak to him now, what might she be able to accomplish in two weeks? A month?
Surely, the bargain would not be forfeit if her Shadow came to her of his own free will.
Reclining on her pillows, smoothing the torn lace of her ruined wedding dress down over her hips, Elena began to smile.