Chapter 41
I adjusted the ceremonial bangles wrapped around my biceps for the millionth time as the sound of the bell tolled across the park, magicked to overpower any sounds in town—a signal to all of Atlantis that the ceremony would soon begin.
It was time.
My heart kicked so hard that I glanced down to make sure it didn’t beat through my chest. My gaze stayed there. The bondmark I’d never wanted before—never thought I would have—would soon appear across my chest, a sign to the world that Asherah was my eternal mate.
Mine .
I shook my head in pure disbelief and couldn’t help the smile curving my lips. I watched the dozens of couples silently filing in before the temple steps to present themselves before the Bohiti. Their eyes held firm to the large bowl that hung from chains at the center of the entrance as they waited for the priestess to light the oil within.
So much has changed .
I never thought I’d feel more passionate about anything else but being a Guardian, and while my role as Commander was still important, I knew being Asherah’s mate would be the most important role in my life. My gaze drifted to the top of the pathway that led to the tents, observing anyone with long dark hair and blue eyes, but none were Asherah.
She’ll be here.
Movement at the top of the steps stole my attention. A priestess emerged from the darkness of the temple; a long pole lit like a match reached for the bowl way above her. The oil caught fire, and the temple drums began a steady rhythm—the potent energy from the temple cascading over the crowd as collective gasps and moans met my ears. The energy hit me hard, my eyes closing with its intensity and the center of my chest humming a call only my mate could hear.
Where is my mate?
I sighed with relief when I felt her fingers brushing down my back, her lips pressing softly on the crease between my shoulder blades, making my cock stir beneath my scales. Her arms came around my waist. It wasn’t until my arms rested on hers that a strong sense of wrongness took over. I opened my eyes, looking down upon the pale skin and long pearl-polished nails of someone who wasn’t Asherah. I broke through the ceremonial fog. As I turned out of the embrace, I was met by Melysah’s deep brown eyes—her body clad in pale peach ceremonial garments. “Draevyn,” she whispered wantonly.
My anger overrode every sensation. “What are you doing here?”
Her forehead creased. “I’m here to present myself to the Bohiti. With you.” She rushed forward, attempting to wrap herself around me again.
I placed my hands on her arms, stilling her forward momentum—the heady power of the ceremony urging me to embrace the skin-to-skin contact. I groaned with lust and the effort to push away from her. “You know damn well I’m not here for you.”
Yet, Melysah remained determined. She shook off the rejection and licked her lips. “But you are. Can’t you feel it, my love? I know you do.” Her eyes became lustfully hooded. “You want me.”
“I am not your love, and that is the power of the ritual. You know it.”
“It’s the call,” she insisted, bringing her hand to her chest. “It’s right here, Draevyn. Present me, and you will see we are bondmates.”
“I will not present you.” A deep, lustful groan laced with anger escaped my lips as I fought hard through the wave emanating from the first bondmate union. The potent desire and the urge to mate had my cock aching in a way I’d never felt before. I breathed through the moment, desperate to calm the feeling as I watched the next couple ascend the steps to present themselves.
Melysah’s hand came to my chest, her determined gaze searching mine. “This is us.”
I brushed her hands off. “This is not us,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “There will never be an “us,” Melysah. I’m Asherah’s mate. Hers and hers alone. Why can’t you get that through your head?” I leaned down to her eye level. “I want you to hear me loud and clear. What you and I had? It was a tryst while in the throws of Guake’te—something every Atlantian enjoys during the ceremonies. Nothing more. I’ll never present myself to the Bohiti with you. I’ve never wanted or felt called to present myself to the Bohiti with you. I. Do. Not. Want. You.”
And then I saw it: the realization that broke through her lustful haze, her face flushing as my jaw clenched tightly. Her eyes shifted beyond me, her head dipping in a single nod.
The small pinch between my shoulder blades, coupled with the next wave that crested from the temple, brought me unwillingly to my knees. When Melysah casually strolled forward, almost to the beat of the tribal drums echoing against the temple walls, my eyes widened in a deep sense of panic. The realization that something was very, very wrong outweighed the power of the ritual. I struggled to move, but my limbs wouldn’t listen. Darkness had fallen over the park; festival goers passed right by without paying any attention—their need to feel and fuck overriding everything else. I could do nothing when Melysah bent down softly placing her lips against mine. Her fingers threaded through my hair at the nape of my neck and tugged painfully, forcing me to meet her fiery gaze. “If I cannot have you, Asherah never will.”
“What have you done?” I managed to croak.
The evil smile that spread across her pale face sent a shiver down my immobile spine. “I did what I must.”
A meaty palm holding a white linen cloth came into my line of sight, covering my mouth and nose—the pungent and sweet scent overwhelming. I fought for consciousness, fought to catch anyone’s attention, but it was hopeless with the power from the ceremony affecting everyone around me. I could do nothing but watch Melysah’s retreating form before everything faded to black.