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“You are my mate, Liessa.”
His words should have frightened me, and yet, I knew it in my bones to be true.
My mother’smemories with Ithuriel flashed through my mind like one lightning strike after another.
“Liessa!”My husband shouted for me through the door to my temporary room. My shoulders automatically rose at his tone. Bracing myself for the onslaught, I cracked open the door to find Zalan, King Azim, and a withered old man standing in the foyer. Tamara slipped into her hiding place as I shut the door a little louder than necessary to cover the sounds of her footfalls.
“Yes, My King?” I swept my hair behind my back, adding an extra layer of protection to the mark that lay there.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair before the three standing males. My heart pounded as I did as I was told. I never balked, despite my fears; it only made him angry.
“Lean forward.” His voice was low, deadly, and instantly my stomach turned over. I had no choice but to obey.
As I leaned forward, my long hair fell to the side, revealing the low back of my dress. I was grateful my locks hid my face, hoping to spare it from his brutal hand, lest the other monarchs see what reallyhappened in the Night Realm. He circled behind me, roughly swiping the last remaining strands from my back and ripping my dress lower until he found what lay beneath – black marks that indicated I was mated.
His laugh was maniacal, sinister, and raised the hair on the back of my neck.
“So it is true.” King Azim’s voice was like rocks tumbling down the side of the mountain. “Rares, what do you think?”
The wizened man shuffled forward, lifting my chin with a gnarled finger. He studied me for a moment, then took my hands, turning them this way and that. He touched the center of my palm, and my magic flared to life inside me before simmering to a low boil.
“She has strong power – not only from the Night Fae. Tell me, do you have any other ancestry?”
Mixing between Fae races was rare and discouraged. Those of us who had it in their lineage hid it well, but deep down I sensed he already knew the answer. “Yes.”
A wicked expression pulled at his wrinkles. “Yes, she is perfect.”
I swallowed down the fear that clawed its way up my throat. What was happening?
“Bring Ithuriel,” King Azim commanded a waiting guard.
My heart caught in my throat. “Please don’t hurt him,” I begged my husband, nearly falling to my knees before him.
“Obey my command, and he shall live,” Zalan hissed, shoving me back into the chair.
Ithuriel appeared a moment later with his hands bound behind him. “Liessa!”
I sprung forward without thinking, only to have Zalan throw me with force into the chair, making my head smack the side. I hissed as a bruise bloomed in my hair.
Ithuriel strained against his shackles and the males holding him. “Are you alright?”
A dip of my chin was all I allowed as my husband looked between us.
“Since you have not borne an heir to me yet, Liessa, you will breed with the Angel and produce a powerful one. But there are rules. First, you will only be together in front of Rares and me, who will assist in the process. Second, you will tell no one that the child is not mine and face death if you do so. Third, you will never see each other again after you are pregnant.” His tone left no room for debate.
Tears sprang to my eyes as Ithuriel held my gaze. “I will do whatever is asked of me so long as I can be with her.”
Every ounce of his love and devotion was poured into that statement, though it broke my heart to know that I would have my mate and then lose him.
“Great. Strip her,” Zalan ordered a few unburdened guards milling about the room.
“What? No!” Two males snatched my arms, and a third ripped my dress from my body, baring my naked form to a room filled with males. I struggled as they dragged me to a table in the center of the room, putting me on display like a prized hog slaughtered for a feast, then laid me across it. Zalan pinned my hands above my head, and I was totally powerless as King Azim and Rares settled back to watch the show. Ithuriel was dragged to me and stripped in the same degrading way before being positioned so he stood at the end of the table.
A guard on each of my legs pulled them open and pinned them in place, and tears flowed freely as my husband subjected me to this humiliation – another way to torture me.
Yet, the desire pooling in my belly at my mate’s nearness was undeniable – as was his.
“Can I at least have my hands?” he choked on the words.
