17. Nahomie
Nahomie
Tassarion Everthorn was ever the graceful, but thoughtful, king as he planted his feet, holding the doors to the Opèr chambers for me.
We’d flown from the east wing, all the way to the southern wing of the manor, to reach this massive theatre room.
I felt dizzy as I lowered to my feet, my wings drooping.
With poise, I sashayed through the doors, purposefully letting my scent linger as I slid past my wingmate. The small, ravenous snarl he unleashed below his breath was all I needed to know about how he felt, despite me drawing his ire on purpose earlier.
I paused, stunned at the opulence before me.
The Opèr theatre seemed almost as large as the manor itself.
There was a magic here I couldn’t explain.
It was grand, with a vaulted ceiling so high I had to crane my neck to see its peak.
When I looked below, the chamber seemed to have no end.
There were endless floors covered in wall to wall seating.
Plush, crimson cloudchairs made of cloudy billows floated above carpeted floors behind onyx balustrades.
The theatre itself was shaped like an oversized star, with points ending in sharpened corners filled with royal boxes separated from the open seating.
Down below was the largest stage I’d ever seen, with crimson curtains tumbling to its glassy floor of burnished gold.
The stage looked like a reflecting mirror, while the circular platform bled into the elephantine theatre.
An innumerable number of candles covered the space, illuminating the theatre with a warm, cozy glow.
I was stunned into silence, unable to utter a word. Never in all my dawns had I ever laid eyes on anything like this.
“Join me, my Nahomie.”
Tassarion’s breathy voice set my seven hearts beating wildly.
I couldn’t respond, overwhelmed by the beauty before me, and consumed by a ravening hunger for him.
He slipped his fingers through mine, threading them together.
With my hand in his, the king leisurely pulled me with him toward the royal box.
I scanned the theatre and saw that every available seat was filled.
The ebony, diaphanous frames of the Nanmiess littered row after row.
But among them were luminous bodies that were of the brightest ivory.
Without guessing, I knew. These were the Esprit Tassarion spoke of before.
The spirits who freely dwelled in Everthorn Manor.
While the theatre was packed, Tassarion and I were completely alone on this level.
The royal box had this floor to itself, surrounded by tinted glass.
Burning candles were the only light inside while the front overlooked the massive chamber and the stage below.
It had the best view in the place, and it was deliberately intimate.
Tassarion walked to the gilded table to the side and filled two onyx goblets to the brim.
Then he walked to the sole loveseat perched in the center, kicked off his boots and socks, tugged off his cape, and sat down.
The king tossed his head back over the couch, looking at me with his eyes shining, waiting for me to join him.
He crooked a ringed finger and beckoned me over.
“Come here.”
I bit my bottom lip, moving toward him on command.
Without thinking, I shed my sandals, too.
Instead of sitting beside the king, I slipped into the space behind him.
Looking into his eyes, blazing like crackling lightning, I tugged and lifted his crown from his head, resting it to the side.
Then I slipped my hands into his hair and massaged his scalp.
Tassarion’s eyes fell shut as a small groan escaped those full lips.
“Believe it or not, I’m fulfilling a lifelong dream, thanks to you. Since I was a youngling, I always wanted to experience this at least once. This is my first time. Ever,” I whispered.
Tassarion’s eyes stayed closed, his body leaning into the loveseat, his head resting in my hands.
“And it won’t be your last, mi Phantimèssa.” He tapped the seat beside him. “Now come here.”
The moment I was seated, he used an onyx wing to drag me so close my body pressed into his side. He placed a goblet in my hand. And without thinking, the king tilted his head and drug his teeth along the column of my ear before sensually biting the tip. I gasped, arching at his touch instinctively.
“Phantimèssa,” he breathed down our bond. “I won’t be able to deny myself the touch of your skin, the songs of your breath, the heat of your flame, for much longer.”
Well, that made two of us.
I was too flustered to respond.
Luckily, I didn’t have to.
The voice of the heavens through the lips of an angel filled the theater.
So lost was I in Tassarion, I hadn’t seen the candles winking out across the theatre.
Didn’t see the warm haze filling the dark, emanating low light.
The curtains pulled back, revealing one solitary angel captivating an enthralled audience.
Tassarion dropped his left arm in the center of my lap, leaning into me, while his hand rested on my bent knee.
I dropped my head onto his shoulder, curling both of my arms around him.
The angel below was a Cherubim—a Lowerrank from the Eleventh of the Twelve Ranks.
She was small, with multi-colored mauve and indigo skin, golden eyes and lashes, and shimmering indigo hair.
I listened as she sang, wholly moved. She sang a song of longing.
Of dawns passed. Of hopes lost and dreams still believed in.
On and on she sang, gripping her audience.
Emotions stirred within me, lulling me in the threads of her symphony.
Tears stung my eyes. I was lost in this glorious experience. Enraptured by the music of the night.
My fingers wound through Tassarion’s hair, playing with his braids as he and I swayed in rhythm, moving with the rise and fall of the song.
For a long while, I relished this moment where he and I enjoyed something pleasant and beautiful, regardless of the darkness that seemed to trail me wherever I went.
Tassarion lifted my hand to his lips. His rings brushed the skin of my palms as he littered my knuckles with gentle pecks that re-arranged all of my seven hearts.
This was an arranged bond, but nothing about it felt contractual. It was all too real. I was terrified of what that could mean for us. For me. Could this actually be real? Could Everthorn Manor become my home for life?
Would I be safe? Protected?
Would I find peace?
For so long I had to defend myself or hide altogether. But my Monster King. My bonded wingmate. Would he keep his hands at war so I could rest? Would he vanquish those who sought my life so that I no longer had to hide?
I turned to Tassarion as my thoughts raced when I found his eyes glued below to the Cherubim.
The smile on his face earlier from the peace we greedily enjoyed in this darkened space now stretched from ear to ear for another reason.
Arm still in my lap, and lips still pressed to my hand, his eyes had wandered and were found by whom he sought.
Hypnotized by the thrall of the music, the magic that made the Opèr feel like being in another world, the pretty little Cherubim had locked her eyes onto my king. And his gaze was tethered to her.
I glowered down at the Cherubim. She swayed her arms and twirled. She sang to her heart’s content. The metaphysical bond between Tassarion and me burned hot like an inferno. Rage stirred in my blood.
Tassarion Celèstian Everthorn was mine.
Senselessly, my mind spiraled. The wingmate mark on my finger, and contoured around my hand, started glowing.
Markings shimmered in obsidian before turning burnished bronze as they snaked up the length of my arm, then neck, until they curled around the side of my face.
The longer the Cherubim looked at my wingmate, the more enraged I became.
“Mi Phantimèssa.” A tug on my chin by a steel-blue tendril. “Look at me.”
I turned to Tassarion. His mating mark burned, perfectly mirroring mine.
I watched his mark burn hotter with the swell of my growing anger.
How had he gotten access to my mind? How did he get past the veiled door?
I looked within and found that the thread of our bond had been obliterated.
Tassarion had unfettered access to my mind. For life. Which also meant...
“You look like you want to burn down our home.” Tassarion squeezed my knee. “Why?”
“That’s just my face. I can’t help it looking like that.”
Tassarion chuckled down the bond. Then the Cherubim sang out a soft note that wrenched Tassarion’s gaze from mine, pulling him back to the performance below. And when his eyes found the pretty little Cherubim again, he was fully hypnotized by her beauty and song.
“Mine.”
A snarl in the depths of my mind hissed. Neither Tassarion nor I had spoken down the bond. But the voice was there. Feminine. Demanding. Possessive.
“Phantimèssa.”
“Monstaru.”
“What’s going on? You were enjoying the performance moments ago.”
Tassarion seemed genuinely confused by my sudden change in mood. I couldn’t make sense of this possessive nature either. Like something malicious had infiltrated my body and was now stoking my rage unprovoked.
“Who is she?”
That got his attention.
The king turned and looked at me.
“Na’Kayla? Papi first brought her here when I was a youngling. Saundeiah is most fond of her after me. She lives in the chambers of the Opèr. She’s been my favorite singer for over a millennium?—”
“Na’Kayla, is it?” I cut him off.
Blackfire filled my palms. The thought of her name made me see crimson.
“Where’d you go?”
Tassarion’s question confused me. He sat up in his seat, actively searching for me.
I blinked, looking down. Without realizing it, I had fyused and moved away from the loveseat.
My Seraphim skin had vanished. I’d become the embodiment of my element, but because of my anger, the lavender didn’t show. I looked completely invisible.
“No, seriously, my phantom. Where are you? What’s wrong?”
The Cherubim hit a high note that arrested Tassarion’s attention again.
I’d had enough.
I slipped out of the chamber, flying through the glass. I hovered over the theater like a wraith cloaked in twilight. No one could see me. All eyes were glued to the Cherubim and the stage below.
I scowled.
She had to go.
Twirling in the air, windmilling my arms, I unleashed a flood of blackfire. Na’Kayla’s spell on the audience broke. Every head looked up. Gasps and screams broke out as Nanmiess and Esprit began shooting out of their seats.
“Mi Phantimèssa,” Tassarion purred. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t answer. I locked my gaze onto the Cherubim. Jerking my arms upward, I whirled and yanked them back down. With the thrust of the motion, seven massive serpents, made entirely of blackfire, surfaced. I pointed directly at the Cherubim. She saw my directive and began screaming.
“Phantimèssa, no! Don’t! The Manor?—”
I blocked out Tassarion’s voice. Chaos broke out in the theatre. My serpents lunged across the Opèr racing for the stage. Na’Kayla, the rotting fool, floated in place, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Nahomie!”
I glared down at the petrified Cherubim.
I spread open my palm, then snapped it into a tight fist. The serpents lunged for Na’Kayla and feasted until all that was left of her were her wing’s feathers and several of her bones.
Madness and derision descended on the Opèr.
I grinned, proud of eliminating the nuisance.
I turned to look at Tassarion in the royal box.
The box was empty.
I spun and found the Monster King frantic. Endless souls swarmed him from head to foot. For the first time since coming to Everthorn Manor, I saw genuine fear in Tassarion’s eyes. Stars. What had I done?
“Nahomie! My stubborn bride!” Panic filled his darkening eyes. “Blood always demands a price. Especially in the manor.”
“I am not afraid, Monstaru. Not when I must lay claim to what is mine.“
Something like a mixture of terror, pride, and hunger glimmered in Tassarion’s eyes. Then the shadows of Everthorn Manor surfaced, and the ever-present eerie voice spoke out.
“So you won’t mind as we claim what is ours.” An ominous chuckle. Then. “Blood for blood, Phantimèssa.”
Then the shadows plunged the Opèr in darkness so steep I couldn’t see in front of me. Invisible hands latched onto my arms and legs. Claws dragged down the length of my skin, drawing a gush of blood. I cried out.
“Nahomie!” Tassarion bellowed.
Everthorn Manor unleashed itself, drawing my blood by force.
Then another malignant, wicked voice spoke in the darkness.
“It won’t be long until she becomes mine, Slave.”
Something slapped me so hard on the head, everything blinked into nothingness. As I bled out onto the carpet to the sound of Tassarion roaring my name, I tumbled into a deep, bottomless black.