Rite of the Omega Read online

  “Get what you need and get back here immediately. If she suffers even a moment more than is necessary…”

  “Of course, Majesty. At once.” Maruk fumbled his way to the door, cautious not to run and incite the Alpha’s anger further as he rushed to comply.

  “May I enter?” Ath'asho lingered by the outer door though he subdued his voice and tone in a way Er’it had never heard before.

  The strangeness of it alone enough to shock him out of the trance the unconscious woman-child kept him in, Er’it turned and faced the bedroom door. Saw the weak glimmer of diseased scarlet coating the doors in oozing tendrils. More still creating a foul veneer over the mirrors. He was on his feet again, stalking towards the nearest foiled glass. The side of his fist smashed through the thin pane with a vicious twist of his lips that mocked him from the shards.

  Another larger version in a crude bathing chamber was next. The eerie brightness of the view into a room filled with Er’it’s mages and soldiers enough to send him into a destructive frenzy. Intent on demolishing any trace of the Black Mage and his evils from where her scent pervaded every inch of breathable air. Carved door splintering under his hands, he felt a sick satisfaction. Er’it might not know all the symbols of power there, but he knew some. Many carved into the virgin temples, put there to keep idle thoughts and hands at bay.

  That would change the moment those incredible eyes opened once more.

  Panting over the remains of a table and chair that he’d torn apart with his own two hands, Er’it faced Ath'asho. Willing the haze of red away, hoping he didn’t attack his friend due to some sorcery Er’it perhaps didn’t understand as yet, he fought for calm.

  “Tor’en sends word,” Ath'asho said, rough baritone quiet as he kept his gaze centered on Er’it’s chest. With the heavy layers of armor and being twice as tall and broad as Er’it, he strained to appear unthreatening. “They’ve found his study and a secret room. Tor’en thinks you should come and see what they’ve uncovered.”

  “I’m not leaving her,” Er’it said through a growl. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he wasn’t sure when he’d pulled the blade.

  “Told him that. He’s insisting.”

  “Have one of the others see to what he needs. It'ash, Awyn, Endi, they can deal with him.”

  “Tor says it needs to be you.”

  “Whatever it is can wait.”

  “It’s about the girl, Er’it.” Now Ath’asho shifted his bulk, not towards Er’it but away. Turning his face aside, baring the vulnerable line of his throat in a show of obedience.

  “It can wait,” Eris said, not even recognizing the coarse shout as his own voice anymore.

  Dismissing the general, Er’it went to the woman, opting to sit beside her this time. Careful of the dusty, ruined clothes he wore, he tried not to get her filthier than she already was. He’d bathe her if he weren’t uncertain about the welts and if it would cause her yet more pain. Deep lines furrowed her brow and the delicate skin around her eyes even in the dark shadows of sleep.

  “What are you to do this to me,” he whispered, working one of the knotted plaits free to feel the texture of the strands. Nose wrinkling, he set it aside, the lock slick and greasy under his fingers. Easy to see the paints that once adorned her features though smudged and tracked with tears. The shredded length of her gown showed flesh with a sandy hue, imbued with a warmth all its own despite the trials she’d endured.

  Tongue slipping over his bottom lip, he watched the dark line of her lashes as he traced the ragged edge of a corset. It would only make sense to disrobe her, make her comfortable as they waited for Maruk to return with his herbs and salves.

  Decision made, Er’it stood to hunch over her. Hands steady despite the adrenaline racing through him that made his heart slam about the cage of his ribs, he peeled away one layer at a time. Low sounds pulled from between his lips as he unveiled the length of her legs. A guttural moan escaping as he cut away the remains of the thrice damned corset. Breasts high and full, topped with bronzed buds of flesh that tightened under his warm breath.

  Adjusting the length of his cock where it strained against his trousers, Er’it leaned closer still. Breathed against her lips before sliding his tongue across all that lushness. Her breathy sound brought forth a growl from him, his kiss going from hesitant to demanding in the space of a single trembling heartbeat. Yet she remained slack in his embrace, her arms refusing to come around him as he wished them to. Her skin was icy, no matter the dream of sunlight that colored it.

  Choking out a curse he laid her back into the pillows, yanking a heavy duvet from the foot of the bed to cover her with. Tucking the puffy thing tight to her chin, he made sure it hid away her body before he turned to the ruined garments.

  The fireplace opposite would lend her more warmth, and he had just the thing for kindling.

  “You’re certain she won’t scar?” Er’it stood well away from the bed, brooding by the fireplace he continued to add fuel to despite the sweat beading his forehead and slipping in icy rivulets down the back of his neck.

  “Yes, Majesty. As I said, they’ve used it before,” Maruk said as he stoppered the bottle of viscous green liquid.

  Er’it grunted and gripped his biceps harder as Maruk settled the thick bedding back over the girl. Refusing to think of her as a woman despite the way her body called to him had kept the worst of his desires in check. Still hard and aching, at least he wasn’t groping her. Not that it had been easy to watch the old man moving her arms and legs about, touching that sweet skin while Er’it denied himself.

  Blood magic was the path he’d chosen, a decision he never regretted until just this moment. Now when what remained of his humanity and decency quivered at the edge of the Aeslomoran Abyss, he wished he’d sought another way. If only to save this poor, beautiful creature from his desires. Far too late now, and she would suffer his needs. At least he still grasped those last tangled threads that kept her safe from him until she recovered.

  “And it’s not his magic?”

  “No, Majesty. Far older and… not male.”

  Er’it grunted again, glancing at the stacks of books Maruk had brought with him from Tor’en. Old, musty tomes with archaic language inscribed across cracking leather. It’d been an age since he’d forced himself to struggle through reading Drethik. People long extinct, only their prophecies and warped incantations remained. Even at his most desperate, Er’it never dared to try those spells, too much a risk and too much at stake. Whatever was in those bindings, it couldn’t be good.

  Unfolding from his aggressive posturing, Er’it flipped the topmost book open, lips running askew as the cover tore and crumpled to dusty memories across the vanity. Before he could even destroy the first page with a cautious thumb turning it, he paused. Staring hard at the symbol painted there with gilt somehow defying all age and logic to be brilliant and shining.

  He knew that symbol. A tale told to young men to incite their passion. Rowdy stories whores whispered to loosen purse strings. Rumors told by mages, sorceresses, and witches alike when deep in their cups. It wasn’t true though. Never had been true. Yet his gaze slid unerring towards the sleeping girl. Remembering the starlit night in her gaze, the silent murmur of her pleas reaching him across the echoing dungeon. The way he’d found her in that dungeon, the scent of spring and snow still ripe on his tongue.

  “Get me Tor’en,” Er’it shouted over his shoulder, slapping his hand across the page to turn to the next.

  Chapter 4

  Aida

  Drifting through the murky shadows that coiled around her, holding her fast in their slimy embrace, Aida lacked the will to even voice her distress. Otaso had never left her down here so long, never let that malignant beast dwelling in the cavernous dungeon take out its ill will upon her for so many days.

  Pain radiated from the marrow of her bones, her very soul mangled and shredded. Sure that it flayed her skin no matter that it never was, it burned hot and bright behind her eyes in pulses of hideous greens and reds. He should have come long ago, making that awful sound and petting at her hair, telling her she should be a good little fawn from now on. Chastising her for bringing such a punishment down on her head.

  She was not always sure what brought such abuse, but this time he accused her of much more than daring to peek out of her window. There was no logic to his insistence that she’d caused such destruction. She had no power. There was no reality where she could have done that. Yet each time he clambered down the stairs to rail at her again, laying more blame at her door, he said it was all her fault.

  As the first cooling caress trailed along her arm, she sobbed. It was done and over. She would grovel at his feet if she must, though she didn’t understand why everything remained so dark. The wicked shadows still clung to her, not a single glimpse of the reddened haze that signaled her freedom from this vengeful limbo. Yet the chill of the syrup thick ointment he used on the unnatural wounds prickled her skin and delved deep into her flesh.

  A sound that stole the very whisper of warmth from her lungs met her whine. A low rumble from far away, threatening and yet somehow comforting in that very ferociousness. It wasn’t the rasping grind of Otaso. Aida knew that from the first tremble of it staggering down her spine. More for the way it curled through her hips, plunging low into her belly to erupt in spray of white-hot embers. A writhing pool of warmth that grew fast into a molten core of heat. Blistering and delicious as it licked over her skin and drove the wintry chill from her bones as the thunder grew louder.

  Otaso never aroused such a response. On the very heels of that thought was the understanding he was a man of significant power. If he learned some unknown magic, wielded some power over her now, she’d be helpless to stop him. If he could make her fee
l this with little more than a sound and a touch, perhaps she wouldn’t hate the very idea so much.

  A gasp hissed between her teeth as an inferno closed over her throat. Heavy weight stifling her shallow breaths, it did not choke but warned. Kept her still despite the sudden fire lashing at her spine, twining through taut muscle to make it tremble and jump. Heat radiated through every particle of her flesh until Aida wanted nothing more than to scream and writhe. Not in pain, but in something so very different. It swelled in the cradle of her hips and between her thighs, in the place they warned her never to touch, never to even grace with a thought.

  Now it burned. A scratching itch begging she soothe it as she bucked under the onslaught. Heady cedar and what she imagined sun-drenched fields smelled like invaded her senses. Raked through her body as it twitched beneath the overwhelming sensation. Skin too tight, aching for a release from the vicious assault, her eyes fluttered open on a shaky sigh.

  It was not Otaso.

  Eyes the gleaming topaz of a predator looked at her from under the hard shelf of dark eyebrows, making her uncertain how much of his coppery skin was creased from his scowl or just weather worn. There was no mistaking the dark fire flaring to life behind that intense stare. Muddy rose lips spread, more snarl than smile as he showed the white edge of his teeth, the hand at her throat gliding down to splay over her chest.

  Aida did the only thing she could think of. Screaming as loud and long as she could, she dug her heels into the soft bed to scuttle away from the dangerous stranger. Another shriek following tight on the heels of the first as she found herself naked and alone with the male that somehow made her skin tingle and burn like that time she’d brushed against a hot poker. Only this time it didn’t hurt.

  “Silence,” the monster snarled, the hand not reaching for her halfway to his ear, as if her shrill cries hurt him.

  Hoping they were painful in some way, Aida continued to scream though her throat felt as if she’d swallowed shards of glass. Not even bothering to snatch for something to cover herself, hoping Otaso would understand and forgive her, she lunged to the side to scramble off the bed and past the savage beast.

  Caught by his grip on her throat once more, Aida coughed and sputtered. Lifted until their eyes met, she slapped at his chest and raked the ragged edges of her nails over his arm. Aimed for his face, though he knocked her hand aside with such ease as to make her vehemence laughable.

  “I said silence.” Voice thick and rolling, tone lilting on the wrong inflections, he wasn’t from Aeslomor.

  Dropped to the floor, she collapsed to hands and knees to cough and drag in ragged breaths redolent with cedar and summer. Tipping her head up she looked at the beast sidelong, her face warming as she noticed something she very well shouldn’t have. The trousers he wore were far more snug than she’d ever seen Otaso wear them. Tight fit outlining the thing she’d only ever felt pressed against her back, Aida screamed for the only savior she had.

  “Otaso!”

  His roar made the windowpanes shudder. Rage was far too soft a word to describe the twisted maelstrom contained in that single sound. Praying for a swift end as he grabbed her, Aida wailed as he hauled her up by the nape. Dragging her to him, he leaned close so he could growl in her face. Heavy braids twined with beads and metal rings made a curtain around them, shadowing all but his menacing gaze.

  “You will never say that name again. Do you understand me?” When Aida continued to stare in panic-stricken horror, he shook her hard enough to cause her teeth to snap. Yelling at her from inches away, he demanded, “Do you understand me?”

  Lower lip trembling, the first scalding tears dripped over her lashes. Dewy drops becoming a torrential flood, she sunk loose limbed and desolate to the floor to cower around her nakedness, hiding away what she little she could. Otaso was gone, if not dead. Why else would this stranger be in her room, so casual of being in her presence let alone her lack of attire? Otaso had killed for far less. He’d not allow something like this if he could. Not to his fawn, his jewel, his prize.

  Sobbing into upturned knees, Aida ignored the male as he hunkered down before her. Hoping he would leave her to her misery and fears of what would come next, she understood that would not happen. Not after what Otaso tried, what he’d accused her of ruining. All these years her guardian warned her of what awaited her should he not be there to protect her, and now she would see the truth of it.

  “Stop this, kou’va,” the man muttered, thick fingers winding around the back of her neck to haul her between his spread thighs. Tucking Aida into the sweltering shadow of his presence, he took her chin between finger and thumb to force her eyes to his. “I will give you something to weep about if you continue to mourn him like this.”

  Eyes rounding, Aida sputtered a smeared tumble of syllables as she slapped away the savage’s hand. Seeking to put space between them, she cried out when her backside stuttered across the cold wood planks as he dragged her right back where he wished her to be. Caught in the vice like grip of his arm just under her breasts, she couldn’t even hide that part of her. Splayed hands struggling to shield that space between her legs, she cried all the harder when he raked a rough hand over the tangled knots of her hair.

  “You reek.”

  There was no stopping it as he locked his fist around her bicep, yanking her up to tiptoes to follow in his wake towards the bathing chamber. With a low growl of disgust, a sweep of his hand incinerated the wilted lilies and moldering petals. A turbulent skim of sunset hues rippled over the water, leaving it clean and steaming without a trace of the rancid oils or perfumes though the scent of burnt greenery lingered.

  Wide-eyed gaze sliding from the bath to the man and back, Aida stood slack jawed in horrified amazement. The magic he controlled with so little effort was as powerful as Otaso’s to have done such a thing, yet it wasn’t the same bloody reds and darkness accustomed to her.

  He gave her no further time to contemplate it, one hand at her back and the other slapping up between her thighs. Hefting her into the air, he ignored her shrill pleas as he stalked towards the tub. Dropping her in so she banged her hip on the bottom before surfacing with an indignant cry.

  “You wanted down,” he said with a slow roll of a shoulder, the fullness of his lower lip drawing taut to twist up into a sneer. “Now wash.”

  “I…” Aida crossed her arms over her chest, sinking into the water up to her shoulders. Dark gaze bouncing wild from one implement of her personal torture to the next before she looked down in something too close to shame. Not only did he expect her to bathe herself, an act she’d never performed, but she had no idea if he wished her to subject her body to the same torturous regime Otaso had.

  “You what?”

  “I’ve… I’ve never… myself.” Tongue twisting as the acrid ashes of her pride settled in the back of her throat, Aida huddled deeper in the water that seemed far too warm to be good for her. Perhaps that was only the heat still raging inside of her, flaring brighter each time she dared a peek at the beast measuring the length of the floor as he stared.

  Muttering something in a tongue so foreign Aida didn’t even know where it might have come from, he abandoned the room to bellow an order for someone far beyond. The rustle of robes hurried towards the bathing room.

  Hate was a powerful word, but the jagged knife digging into her sternum was as close to it as Aida ever felt at the first sight of the woman. An unwarranted tangle of emotions that nonetheless whipped through her, the other woman the target of every explosion of roiling bitterness. Not so much for the blue robed female as much as the way she kept her fingers over the beast’s arm, his nonchalant touch of her shoulder. Plump cheeks of tawny amber, smooth as polished glass, rose high with an incandescent smile as she looked at Aida shivering in the steaming water. Rich umber eyes fair sparkled in the bright light of the room. Every torch and candle blazing, they bathed the beauty with their warm glow as she turned to the beast and murmured something in dulcet tones Aida could not make out over the roar of her thundering heart.