Immortal Dragons: The First Four: Prequel + Books 1-3 Page 20

  “Nikhil!” His name burst in a gasp from her mouth as her body shuddered with her orgasm. This time he pulled out slowly, sliding down her body and laying soft kisses against her skin as he went. He lingered at her breasts, which to her surprise still bled, though the sharp twinge of his tongue over her cuts lent faint pain in comparison to the cuts he’d put on her wrists.

  When he knelt between her thighs, he gazed up at her, sliding his hands up and down, massaging the insides of her legs with one hand and caressing with the knuckles of the hand that still held the blade. He spread her open, pressing the cool flat of the blade to the top of her cleft and holding it for a moment without moving. The temperature shift indeed calmed her throbbing flesh, but he pulled it away only to replace it with the wide flat of his tongue, licking her entire cunt from bottom to top in one mind-altering sweep that had her throbbing and ready for more.

  He held the blade loosely in his hands now, poised above her navel, which he eyed with a slight smile. Belah sensed him assessing her skin the way an artist might a canvas. She knew he had deft hands, capable of fine, delicate work. He had a reputation as a master torturer, after all. He also had a very keen eye, though she had no idea what kind of mark he might be inclined to make into her flesh.

  The bleeding from her wrists had slowed, the upraised angle of her arms preventing it from flowing too freely, but it still ran in a steady, crimson trickle into the containers beneath. She watched, fascinated by the red ripples in the small container that captured her very essence.

  Pain pricked her belly just below her navel, and she hissed, glancing back down at Nikhil. He gave her a slightly admonishing look, but it quickly shifted to his familiar wild lust when the blade pierced her skin just enough to draw blood and he drew it down in a perfectly straight line. The sharper pain the cut caused surprised her and made her gasp. Her reaction incited a rough growl from Nikhil, but he remained focused on his work. From there, he traced a perfect arc, describing a half-moon shape around one side of her belly before tracing a mirror image on the opposite side.

  Blood welled up to fill the lines he cut and she closed her eyes, letting her mind follow the pattern of the pain he drew into her skin. It flared with white heat on the backs of her eyelids, the design gradually becoming clearer with each cut. When he was finished several minutes later, he called her name, urging her to open her eyes again.

  He stood before her, his wide shoulders and beautiful face filling her field of vision. After a quick kiss, he moved to the side. Belah came face-to-face with her own reflection and inhaled sharply at the sight. A large scarab shape was etched into her belly, surrounding her navel. Its wings stretched outward from either side, but the wings resembled her own unfurled wings rather than that of a bird or an insect. The scarab itself was the seal and symbol Nikhil used, representing his family and his patron god, but the wings she knew were his homage to her.

  With effort, she tore her gaze away from the image and met his eyes, unable to do more than smile with pure gratitude at his gift.

  “I am not finished yet, ‘Iilahatan. Now, I worship you before taking you to your heart’s desire.”

  He fell to his knees before her and pressed his lips to the top of one foot where it rested on the small ledge of her platform, only a short distance above the floor. With slow, deliberate movements, he kissed his way up, to her ankle and then a little higher. He paused there, squeezed and caressed her lower leg in an odd fashion. Before she could wonder what he was doing, he brought the knife up and made a swift, sure cut on a diagonal into the flesh inside her leg. Blood flowed, landing perfectly in the center of the basin he’d placed beneath.

  The pain spiked through her, but subsided quickly until he shifted to the other side. The speed with which he cut her told her that the pain wasn’t his goal now, but the bleeding itself. The cuts to her ankles went deeper than the ones to her wrists and her blood flowed freely now, and so swiftly she felt a little drunk.

  Nikhil rose up between her thighs and swept his tongue in a slow, languid lick around her soaked folds. He drew away and she could see fresh blood glistening on his lips.

  “You taste like heaven, ‘Iilahatan. It is my honor to kneel before you and worship you in your glory, to take your gift of blood while I give you the gift of pleasure. To take you into me the way I give my seed to you. I am your slave now, my free will matters not but how I can serve you. So you see, it will make no difference if you make me yours fully, for I am nothing without the taste of you on my tongue, the clutch of you around my cock, and the sound of my name on your lips. Tell me you will make me yours after I am finished making you mine.”

  “Yes, Nikhil. I will,” she whispered, her lips and tongue feeling thick and sluggish. The ache in her heart lingered, but somehow what he said made sense now. It made more sense when he bent his head back to her pussy and covered her with his entire mouth.

  He devoured her with a kind of hunger he reserved for the times he wanted to drive her mad to the point of begging to be fucked, his tongue sliding deep into her before slipping out and tasting every increment of flesh. She felt wetter than she ever had and looked down to see that the blood from the scarab sliced into her belly flowed down between her thighs, where Nikhil greedily lapped at it. He intermittently went back to her clit and teased and sucked until her hips began to twitch and the rising pleasure nearly went to her head. Then he would stop and simply lick like he were a child enjoying a sugary treat.

  Over and over he took her close, each time looking up at her with eyes blazing. He was mad with his own need now, his aura a throbbing, pulsing cloud around him, deep red with the brightest threads of blue throughout.

  In her muzzy mind, Belah thought the blue wasn’t right, that it meant something important she should be wary of, but couldn’t quite remember. Before she could reach deeper into memory to find it, Nikhil rose to his feet and leaned down to kiss her with both hands cupping the sides of her face.

  He made love to her mouth, letting his tongue sweep inside in languid licks. The flavor of him was so unique it made her groan to taste. This was her very essence mixed with his and they were delicious together. What would a melding of their essences look like? If they could have a child, would the child’s essence be as beautiful as the feeling that taste gave her? Dare she even wish for such a thing? But was it her wish or his? She wasn’t so sure, now that his thoughts sank into her mind because she seemed to have lost the ability to control her power.

  He slid one of his hands down over her collarbone, cupped her breast briefly, and teased at her nipple before coming to rest against her sternum. He pulled back from their kiss as breathless as she was, but his eyes were intent, concentrating on something.

  Her heartbeat. She realized it without even meaning to read his thoughts, but in that second the heavy thud of his own made a quicker counterpoint in her ears. Her heartbeat was slowing, and with each beat she felt lighter and lighter and the love in his eyes was like the lightest breeze lifting her up.

  “Stay with me, my love. Look into my eyes. I am the one giving you leave to fly, to release your tether to the world and set you free. Only I control that freedom, little beast. Little goddess,” he said, though the words were barely a whisper.

  His cock was at her core again, pushing deep. The pleasure of his fucking enhanced the feeling of weightlessness and she gave into it entirely. He was in control of her pleasure, of her power, of her very need to be released.

  Belah’s ecstasy peaked with the most exquisite surge of energy.

  “Go,” he said. He released her with that single word, his face still contorted with the strain of his orgasm as his semen pumped into her.

  She let go, diving into the darkness of the abyss, her wings catching the wind. Elation filled her and she soared, buoyed up by her love and gratitude for the man with the strength to give her everything by taking everything she had to give.

 
Chapter Twenty-One

  Nikhil

  “Fly, ‘Iilahatan,” Nikhil whispered. He brushed his lips across his unconscious lover’s, breathing her in while he recovered from another soul-wrenching orgasm shared with the woman he loved. The only woman he would ever love.

  He was light-headed from the thrill he always got giving her the very thing that heated his own blood. Her pain gave them both so much pleasure, but while he could take pleasure in seeing the light and life fade from an enemy, the only pleasure he took from giving his lover that gift was in the act of fulfilling her deepest wish.

  This was his gift to her on their wedding night. When she awoke, he would hold her to her promise to grant his wish. Nikhil refused to believe that her magic could be so powerful that he would lose his free will if Belah marked him. It was a risk he was more than willing to take if it meant spending eternity with her. Not that he feared death—not for himself; he feared it for her—but she had told him over and over again that death was not a friend to her. She only wished to experience that level of release, and he understood. As sexual a creature as she was, she fearlessly explored every avenue of pleasure to the extreme. He loved her for her sense of adventure.

  At the moment he was conflicted, however, and forced himself to be comforted by the fact that he had succeeded in giving her the perfect gift—a temporary respite from the burden of her eternal life.

  He reluctantly pulled his cock out of her and lowered the platform Belah was still bound to. Inside his belly burned an odd fire that surged when he laid eyes on her beautiful, serene face, as perfect as though she were a statue. Today had been a glorious day that had left him filled with a myriad of new sensations. All the gods had been present and had gifted him with their blessings—blessings that were meant to extend his life to give him more time with his bride. To him they were meant for something different—to ensure he was indeed worthy to be the consort of a goddess, regardless of the fact that she was more than willing to submit to him as his little beast. Now she was even branded as such, with the marks he’d cut into the pristine, fair skin of her abdomen.

  Belah’s debasing of herself honored him more than he could express, but it was still painfully apparent to him how much greater a creature she was than himself.

  He swiftly wrapped a sarong around his hips before untying her. He carried her back into the still-warm bath and gently washed the blood from her limp body in the fragrant water, leaving it tinged pink. The first time she’d given up her breath to him to the point of total unconsciousness it had taken a couple days before she returned to him. He guessed that this kind of release would take her longer to recover from, but he would stay by her side until she awoke.

  During that last, tortuous span of time when he believed her dead, she had never quite seemed completely gone. Her body never grew cold as a normal body would in death, yet her heart did not beat and her lungs did not breathe.

  Even now, her skin carried a slight glow, which he’d only recently been able to see. She told him it was the magic of the Blessing he’d been given in his mother’s womb that allowed him to see her aura—that it gave him the unique ability to recognize the magic of the gods once he became attuned to one of them.

  Once clean, he carried her out of the bath, carefully dried her skin and hair, and dressed her in her favorite nightgown. He laid her in the center of her bed and moved around the room, first dismantling the elaborate bench he’d ordered built during the hours they were at their celebration, then moving the basins that held her blood onto a shelf beside the bed, believing deep in his bones that her essence was sacred and should not be wasted. He slowly lit more candles until the room was as bright as daylight. He didn’t intend to sleep until she awoke.

  A cold chill prickled the back of his neck as he lit the last candle. His body tensed, a sudden sense of dread encompassing him.

  The room went dark. Nikhil blinked, a sense of vertigo overtaking him from the sudden, complete, loss of light—so dark he couldn’t see the flame of the match he held, though the heat of it singed his fingertips.

  “What have you done!” The angry voice boomed loud and deep, both inside his mind and so loud it left his ears ringing. The sound surrounded him so completely he couldn’t even place a direction of origin for it, as though it erupted from the darkness itself. Nikhil spun unsteadily, hands outstretched.

  Something hit him hard from the side, sending him flailing through the air. He hit a wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. His breath tore from him and he struggled to remain on his feet.

  “Who’s there!” he yelled into the pitch black. His own rage surged to match the palpable sense of animosity that surrounded him, permeating the shadows.

  Belah. Her prone, defenseless body was his only thought and he ran in the direction he knew the bed to be. If he had to give his life to ensure her safety, whatever was in the room with them now would not harm her.

  His thigh and shoulder hit the bedpost first, with a painful, cracking thud, and he rounded it to stand facing what his instincts told him was the direction of the dark threat.

  “Who dares invade the goddess’s chamber? Show yourself!” he bellowed. The more the rage in him grew, the hotter the strange burn in his belly became. He needed to see if he was going to properly protect her.

  He couldn’t tell anymore whether the heat that filled him was from anger over this unexpected attack—on their wedding night—or from the odd sensation that had been building inside him since he’d begun the ritual-like act of granting Belah’s wish. His entire body flamed with it, inside and out, and he became acutely aware of another presence just opposite him on the far side of the room at the opening to the balcony.

  A rage as potent as his own reached him from the darkness he faced, and along with it a mirror to his very need to love and protect the woman who lay on the bed. Nikhil’s vision seemed to clear, though it appeared more like the darkness retreated from the force of his will to see his assailant.

  “You have taken what was not yours to take. For that, you will pay.” Belah’s brother’s figure loomed large on the balcony. He came forward, aiming toward the bed.

  Nikhil stepped into his path.

  Ked’s expression hardened with disdain, his stride quickening like he was about to ram right into Nikhil.

  Nikhil felt power bubble forth from inside him when the other man drew close. It began with that burn in his belly and rose with his rage, more potent even than the rush he felt on the center of a battlefield.

  “Get away from her!” he yelled. His fist shot out at the moment Ked came into range. It connected with his jaw. Nikhil heard the clack of teeth and Ked sailed across the room to land in a heap against the far wall. The room instantly brightened.

  Ked struggled to rise, blinking and shaking his head. He stared in astonishment at Nikhil.

  Nikhil glared at him.

  “How do you have the power to lay me down?” Ked asked. His amazement didn’t last long. Before Nikhil could blink, his dark opponent shimmered and his body shifted its shape. The man became a scaled beast that resembled the beast his lover had shown to him, but much larger and with black scales instead of blue.

  Sharp teeth snapped at him and he drew back.

  “I will take her home.” Ked said. “You are tainted now. Unworthy of her love.”

  “She’s my wife. You will let me care for her.”

  “You destroyed her. You will die for this.”

  Before Nikhil could respond, black flames erupted from Ked’s mouth and surrounded him. Pure agony bloomed across his entire body, his world growing blinding white from the heat a moment before darkness overtook him once again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Belah dreamed of flying endlessly without tiring. The winds carried her, rendering her weightless and free. She flew among the whitest clouds and the bluest skies, the burdens of her world lon
g gone.

  She could breathe easily for the first time in thousands of years. Something itched in the back of her mind, but it was only the tiniest discomfort compared to the freedom of soaring aloft without end. Flying she could do for an eternity—being up this high left time irrelevant, left the world an inconsequential pinprick far beneath her. All that she needed existed among the clouds and the winds that kept her aloft.

  Except for that tingle of awareness that she did need more, but not yet. Now she only needed to fly; whatever that other thing was could wait until she’d had her fill.

  ***

  Belah, sister, wake up.

  The voice was familiar, the deep, urgent voice of someone she loved. Around her the boundless blue sky filled with white mist that tingled when her wings flowed through it. Was it time to return? She circled around once, testing that tiny itch in the back of her mind, but it was too faint to worry about, so she flew on.

  ***

  Belah, your baby is beautiful and healthy. She needs her mother. Please wake up, sister.

  She had the clearest vision of a beautiful, fair-skinned woman with deep, compassionate green eyes. Yet she had no recollection of a baby. She hadn’t had a baby in centuries. Someday maybe she would again, but for now she only wished to fly.

  ***

  Belah, we tried to avenge you again, but he is more powerful than before. Not even the three of us together could overtake him. We dare not let our sisters near him—his Blessing is too much of a lure, even for males of our race. He has begun killing. He has corrupted two other Blessed humans and coerced them into hunting and killing for him, too. They are as strong as an army. The younger dragons are no match for them. You must wake up and help us convince him to stop—it is you he asks for. Only you can convince him to stop.

  The smooth, deep voice sank into her mind like honey, reminding her of the warm, red gaze of someone she cared deeply for, once upon a time. All she cared about now was the push of the wind propelling her as she beat her wings, and the caress of the air sliding over her scales like silk. The North Wind was her only friend now, and his caress the only touch she needed.