Chapter 41 Saskia
Opening my eyes, I find myself tangled in the sheets, sweaty and disoriented.
I lie on my back, and with a calming breath, melt back into the mattress.
My mother sick, my father dying. That kiss.
It was only a dream, Lucan whispers hoarsely, filling my mind. His voice sounds strained, tired, like he hasn’t gone to sleep all night. And you don’t have to do this.
I do, though.
His voice drops to a chilling octave, one worthy of belonging to a Monster. And what if I commanded you not to?
My breath hitches. I thought you said you couldn’t control me, not if I didn’t want to be.
Care to find out? he growls. A battle for your mind.
After a split second of internal debate, I sigh out, You would never do that.
Lucan’s anger that he knows I’m right, that his own morals would never allow him to command me without my consent, bursts out as if I lit him on fire.
He pivots with a different, deeper tone that I feel all the way down to my toes. Then I’ll just make you want to stay in this bed all day, little nightmare.
A spark zaps up my spine, and Lucan chuckles darkly.
You can’t hide that desire from me. Pain. Pleasure. Mixed. I’ll drive you out of your mind with it. If that’s what you want, what you need. You want to feel alive? I’ll shock you back to life. You want to feel reckless? I’ll absolutely wreck you.
Filthy images flicker through my mind, thanks to Lucan, and I fist the sheets in response as my own dark fantasies morph into his, merging together when he picks them out of the recesses of my mind. Even though he’s miles away, the sensation of his teeth drags down my thigh.
I gasp. If only you could actually touch me, I can’t help but think.
A whimper leaves my lips when the feeling dissolves into claws up my inner thighs, and his canines sink into my shoulder. I breathe through my nose, my mind on fire, as if I’m pinned to the bed.
Get up, I tell myself uselessly.
Everything in me wants to lie here.
Overpower him, I tell myself weakly.
But I don’t mean it. So I stay.
Because I want this. I want him. And sadly, this is the only way I’ll ever have him.
And then a pressure falls between my legs, as if Lucan is actually circling my clit with his thumb. My own arms lay next to me like boulders.
A moan rips from my mouth, my back arching off the bed, my legs widening.
My mind’s suspended in a lucid dream, one where Lucan controls every aspect of this alternate reality in which I’ve submitted all control to him.
Lucan, I breathe when the pressure increases, the pace quickens, and then scream in frustration when it all comes to a crashing halt.
You want to come? he asks roughly. Then stay put. Don’t get out of this bed. Don’t walk out of this room. And I’ll pleasure you until you can’t fucking think straight.
Frustration winds around my ribcage, squeezing tightly. I’m facing death, and he’s withholding orgasms. But I can’t promise to be good. I never could. My mind is made up.
I let my body recover. Wait until my heartbeat slows. Cursing him the entire damn time.
No, Saskia, he begs out in agony when I throw back my blankets and march to the armoire. Please. I’m sorry I ever told you to do this. I take it back. I take it back.
There’s no other way, Lucan. My heart squeezes at his desperation, but I slip out of my pajamas and into a green silk dress I’ve been saving for the perfect occasion.
The neckline rises higher than all the others, with an ideal collar that can tuck away the vial of my necklace.
I slide it behind the lace, concealing it perfectly against the curve of my breast. I won’t leave you behind though.
Every step of the way you can be with me… if you want.
I’m not going anywhere, he says, voice hardened. For the last time, I’m not leaving you.
So I pull back my hair into a bun and knock once with my knuckle against the servant door to alert Eleni.
Then I tell Lucan, Promise you won’t distract me, and throw open my bedroom door.
Probably for the last time.
I follow the hallway path Eleni mapped out for me exactly as I memorized. But nothing could have prepared me for actually laying my eyes on the entrance to the north wing.
The massive double doors, black and white marble etched in elaborate swirls of gold, stretch high above my head at least two stories up. In the middle of each door hangs a knocker, a heavy-looking circular bar that appears to be pure gold.
Two sentries flank the entranceway, their expressions almost happy as they mutter back and forth to each other.
Their swords hang casually from their belts, their uniforms much more extravagant than the sentries’ who roam the city.
They straighten when they notice me heading straight for them, a hand flying to the hilt of each of their weapons as if I pose a threat to them. As if I’m not just some human woman who can so easily bleed.
But my footsteps never waver. My limbs don’t ever go numb. In this moment, I feel as if I could take on a vampire—just as strong, just as powerful. As if my eyes leak their own venom. Each step feels invigorating.
“Is a Guardian expecting you?” one of the sentries demands as soon as I’m within twenty feet.
“I need to speak to the Third.”
The other sentry takes a step toward me. “That wasn’t an answer to his question.”
“I don’t answer to you.”
His eyes flare briefly before he huffs out a laugh. “You Chosen Ones think you’re all special. You don’t get in without an invitation.”
I eye the door, searching for a knob that doesn’t exist.
Of course, there’s no doorknob. What do I have to do to make it open? Slice my palm and offer it my blood? Drop to my knees and pledge my allegiance to the Twelve? Sacrifice my body for their eternal pleasure?
Instead, I fling myself at the door before the sentries can react and pound my fist against the door with a heavy thud.
Once, twice. And then strong arms pull me back, holding me steady against his armor.
The other sentry’s face goes red with rage, then white with panic. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Lucan growls out a warning they can’t hear. Thrashing against the tight grip around my waist, I raise my voice to a level that hopefully reverberates past the door.
“I want to speak to the Third Guardian!” I reach for the gold knocker. “I need him!”
I didn’t realize before, but it has tiny spikes jutting out from all directions—exactly like miniature vampire fangs.
They prick my skin when I grab hold of it, the sting traveling up my arm at the surprising burst of venom that infiltrates my bloodstream. Fuck. But I clench my teeth and manage to knock again.
This time, the echo booms loud enough to vibrate the polished floor.
Yes. Someone had to have heard that. Based on the blanched face of the sentry who rips my arm away from the knocker and slaps a hand over my mouth, he’s scared one of them is going to come investigate.
“Get off of me!” I scream into his palm, kicking the sentry’s shins. Upping the theatrics.
I hope the Third Guardian is watching this play out right now on a screen. I hope every single tech servant turns their entire focus onto this scene, not the one unfolding elsewhere. Not Eleni and Claudia.
As soon as the sentry loosens his grip over my mouth, I spit, “The Third Guardian will have your head on a pike for handling me like this.”
There. Let Arad think I’m desperate for him.
Before the sentries can reply, the door cranks open with an echoing screech.
As the Seventh Guardian steps through the opening, I don’t waste time revamping my performance.
Twisting, I knee one of the sentries in the balls and rake my fingernails down the other one’s arms locked around me.
Both of them shout. I scream. And the Seventh Guardian looks on, clearly torn between amusement and disgust.
“What seems to be the issue?” she asks, tight lipped, when I finally fall still. Her gaze roves down my body, then up to my face. Her dark eyebrows tick up in recognition.
“This Chosen One,” one of the sentries stumbles, tightening his hold on me with a punishing grip that is surely going to leave bruises. “She insists—”
More footsteps approach from behind the Seventh Guardian, making the sentry snap his mouth shut. This time it’s the Ninth, his hair slicked back over his head, who eyes the scene with glittering interest.
“Emrys,” the Seventh says over her shoulder. “Please tell Arad his Chosen One has arrived.” She cocks an eyebrow at me. “Unless you’re looking to expand your taste?”
I cough into my fist. “Oh. No, thank you. I’m here for the Third Guardian.”
She sighs. “Very well.” Fanning her arms out in each direction, she waves the sentries off. “Back to your post.”
They release me and scramble against the doorframe, standing rigidly and staring straight ahead, leaving me in an awkward silence with the Seventh Guardian. Like all the other vampires, her presence cascades over me, thick and cloying and dangerous.
“Quite the feisty thing, aren’t you?” she says around a close-lipped smile. “I can see why he’s become fixated on you.” She tsks, crossing her arms across her chest. “So emotional, males. They never learn.”
Then she turns on her heel as Arad approaches from behind, and with my eyes now locked on his, she gets lost in my peripheral vision.
“Saskia,” he murmurs, clearly pleased. “This couldn’t wait?”
“No,” I say confidently. “It’s now or never.”
The sentries’ eyes flick toward me, and I give them a smug grin, but my victorious mood quickly sours as soon as Arad inhales through his nose. Breathing me in.
Once again, he places his cold, deadish hand against the small of my back and directs me down the hallway, unable to hear Lucan’s possessive snarl that rips through my head.
I pretend to be enamored with the Guardians’ statues, swinging my head left and right like I’ve never encountered anything so grand before in my life, like everything erected here is completely new to me.
“I commissioned these myself,” Arad says into my ear. “I’m a big supporter of the arts.”