The Seeker Ch. 06

Her eyes snapped open and went wide. He fell to her side and pulled her back against his chest, intertwining his legs with hers. Her heart raced. She focused on breathing evenly so as not to draw his attention to her thoughts.

She stilled her mind, letting dangerous knowledge drain out of her like water. Understanding why it had been given to her, she pulled on the energy from Eila and from the trees, opened that protected place deep inside of herself, and focused all that pulsing, glowing light into a single swirling mass. She could almost see it, luminous green and pearlescent white combining and unraveling, twisting and bending. She directed it to the place she knew it was meant to go.

Protectively, she converged it around the tiny bundle of rapidly dividing cells. With every ounce of remaining strength that she possessed, she shielded it from view, locking it away so it could grow and survive while she wilted.

When she was done, she nestled back into that comfortable place of dark and silence, and her eyes glazed over as she drifted into oblivion.

................

Venlen lay silent, listening to the sounds of his men readying to begin moving. Laiyla rested in his arms, pressed up against his chest. Her breathing was slow and even, but he knew she was awake. Her eyes, he knew, were glazed and dull, looking at nothing.

A soldier entered the tent, giving Venlen a knowing look. Venlen nodded and gently pulled away. "Keonai mouv, it's time to leave."

It was as if he hadn't spoken. No twitch of her head, no movement of her eyes, no acknowledgement whatsoever came from her. Crouching, he gathered her in his arms and lifted her. She lay limp and unmoving as he carried her out of the tent and out into the night. Once outside, he handed her to Amlen as he mounted his large chestnut gelding. Reaching down, he took her from Amlen and positioned her in front of him, his arms surrounding her as he held the reins.

She had been like this for days. Since he had found her kneeling by the body of her Elven friend, there hadn't been even a moment of liveliness out of her. He had tried everything; He had yelled and screamed, begged and pleaded, apologized, comforted. He shook her until her teeth rattled. He touched her in ways he knew made her crazy, and even though her body responded, her mind was still lost to him. After turning down food three meals in a row, he sat her in his lap and force fed her. He wasn't sure if she had even slept.

He was a man shipwrecked. It was like watching a part of himself die. He couldn't pretend that he harbored any love for the Elf, but he would have done anything to bring him back, to make Laiyla happy. Powerless, he stood by while she drifted farther and farther away from him. He didn't know how to fix what had happened. Her dulled eyes threatened to rip him apart.

They rode along at a leisure pace. Laiyla's apathetic body rocked against him in synchrony with the horse's steps. He heard Amlen ride up beside them. His gruff voice interrupted Venlen's gradually darkening thoughts. "Prince Venlen, we've received word from Jahco."

"And?" Venlen resented the interruption. He was impatient. Amlen looked pointedly at Laiyla, her glazed eyes staring straight ahead. Venlen gave a curt nod, urging him to continue.

"He found the Elf's dwelling" he said cautiously, keeping a close eye on Laiyla. He was still wary of her since she had clawed her way into his head when he had tried to fetch her on Venlen's orders. "He found an unmarked grave. He believes it held some significance to him. He awaits your orders."

Laiyla jerked and stiffened in his arms, as if awakening from a nightmare. Venlen looked down at the top of her head. He pressed his lips to the hair on her crown.

"What would he have wanted, keonai mouv? I know little about the burial rights of his kind. Tell me what to do."

He felt every muscle in her small body tighten. The slightest tremor swept through her. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and tense, and he thought he might die of relief. At last, she was speaking to him again. "Is this a trick?"

"No Laiyla." His arms closed around her tightly, trying to send tenderness and sincerity down their mangled bond. "We must learn to trust each other. I know I've hurt you. I'm trying. I'm trying to be better. I would do anything for you, anything you ask."

"Let me go," she said quickly, a quiver to her voice that dropped his heart into his stomach. "You know I can't," he said softly, stroking a hand down her hair.

She was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "It's his prevveda, in the grave. Arianna. He would want to be close to her. Elves burn their bodies to set their souls free."

Without hesitation, he turned back to Amlen and nodded. "Burn the body. Bury his ashes as close to the grave as possible. Treat him as if he was one of us."

...........

Laiyla stared straight ahead, hardly noticing that they had just entered a different part of the landscape. The trees were sparse here. Tall grass covered rolling hills, the trail ahead lazily snaking back and forth. The moon, bright and pregnant, lit everything in a preternatural glow.

She hadn't allowed herself to think about her current predicament, terrified that he might sense her thoughts. She was confident she had been able to shield whatever energy the tiny thing was emitting from deep within her but also knew it wouldn't take long for him to figure it out.

She closed her eyes, willing herself deeper into her mind-numbing nirvana. She was finally free of the sickening emotional whirlwind that was Venlen. For once, she didn't feel guilty for letting herself be swept up by emotions manipulated by the bond. She wasn't filled with self-loathing every time her body eagerly responded to his. She wasn't gripped by her hate, or her fear, or dizzying confusion. She was simply... Indifferent.

They rode in silence. At one point, the wind picked up, whipping their cloaks around them. He pressed his arms closer around her, trying to shield her and keep her warm. She hardly noticed. If she thought about it, she might have vaguely remembered him pressing kisses to her hair, her temples, the nape of her neck. Hours into their ride, when she felt fully hypnotized by the rhythm of the horse they rode on and the sounds of the battalion around them, when she felt fully numb and at peace, she heard him say something she just barely recognized as human words. "Verina cuvale, keonai mouv." Had she really listened to them, she might have wondered at what the words meant.

.......

Prudence was frantic, flitting around the small room, open books strewn around her. She would flip a page, scan the ancient text, then move to another book, then another, never finding what she was looking for. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. Something was wrong. She had been watching the Fae girl as they made their way back to the city. The problem was, she couldn't see her anymore.

Something had changed, suddenly, almost overnight about a week ago. During her daily briefings with the King, she had answered his probing questions as vaguely and as tersely as she dared. She didn't see how such a thing could be possible, that a creature of such power should just disappear from view entirely.

She had a terrible suspicion, deep in her gut. It wasn't anything she had any proof of. It was just a flash of feeling, a sudden insight, right before all had gone dark. She shivered to think of what it might mean should it be true. She was filled with dread for the young Fae. Venlen was a far better man than his brother, but she had shivered at the thought of some of the things she had seen happen between them. And if she were to arrive at the castle, walking straight into Damien's grip, her belly already full with another man's child...

An awful chill ran up her spine.

She had no idea why she was so concerned for the Fae girl. Perhaps it was because she, too, knew what it felt like to be thrust into an awful situation entirely out of her control, victim to the whims of a man whose motivations were a dark mystery. Mercifully, she had never been subjected to the specific type of brutality the Fae girl faced, and maybe that was why she was hunting so doggedly for the thing she knew might offer her just a tiny sliver of hope.

Consider it a wedding gift.

.........

Muscular arms held the passive, limp body securely to him. She laid on top of him, her head pressed to his chest. Her limbs splayed listless across his body. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heart beat as he stroked lazy fingers through her hair.

It had been days since she had slept, and even then, it was fitful, barely more than a few short hours filled with night terrors that woke her, damp hair plastered to her forehead. His ever-present arms would circle her, pull her to his chest, stroking her and humming to her. Unwillingly, she would calm, tucked protectively into the crook of his arm, a man so different from the monster who slivered like a serpent beneath the warm, soothing surface.

"Braenn mael laevvi, keonai mouv."

In some faraway corner of her mind, she registered the fact that he was speaking to her. His words were jumbled and unintelligible, and she continued wandering through her own dark thoughts, lost to herself. Vague annoyance flared up when he started speaking again, a deep rumbling vibrating through her chest, interrupting his tranquilizing hum.

"We are close to the border. We should reach it within the next two days, depending on tomorrow's progress. From the border, the castle is only a few day's ride away."

Cold insensibility was her only response. Her mind was stuck firmly in that empty, dark space.

He gripped her chin, moved her face up to capture her gaze. Obsidian liquid eyes searched the depths of her soul. She was still, enduring the probing, raking gaze with indifference.

"Laiyla you must stop this. He would not have wanted this for you. It's time to let him go. Everything I do is for you, but I cannot bring you back from this if you won't let me."

Anger flashed through the sea glass green of her irises. A low growl, surprisingly threatening from such a small creature, sounded from deep in her throat before she spoke. "Killing Fae from my clan? That was for me?"

A look of annoyance passed across his face, followed by suppressed rage. "Yes."

She scoffed, jerking her head out of his grip and looking away. "You're sick, Venlen. Your mind is twisted beyond redemption."

She listened to his heartbeat quicken, felt his breathing become more strained. When he spoke, it was low and dangerous. "The Fae you mourn and defend so fiercely came to me of their own accord, betraying you for a promise of gold and power. They suspected what you really were. They sought me out, knowing I was close and looking for a lost Seeker. Those Fae you cared so deeply for came to me, eager to deliver you into my hands, without a thought for the consequences their actions would have on you.

"I will not suffer the existence of any who would put you in danger. Their deaths were necessary and served to draw you to me. Understand, Laiyla, I would do anything, without hesitation, to keep you safe. You are mine. You have been mine for much longer than you realize."

Against his chest, she bared her teeth. "Venlen, you are the only person who has put me in danger. Every bruise and cut and pain I've experienced since you've come into my life has been at your hand. Can you really not see that?"

He was quiet. Pain, his pain, vibrated unpleasantly through the bond. The slow churning of unwelcomed emotions swirled through her in troublesome waves. A deep, overwhelming sadness overtook her as she considered what he had said. Had they truly betrayed her? The Fae women she had seen as family? Gentle Vanessa, who walked with her through the forest, teaching her how to recognize woodland animals and how to heal broken bones. Willow, who joked and laughed with her in the kitchens as she passed on recipes to Laiyla while cooking meals for the clan. Saren, who taught her to draw the quarters and cast incantations to pull light and love into the small cove of safety she became so dangerously comfortable in.

Had these women truly turned her over to her greatest enemy?

She pushed against the rigid lines of his bare chest, trying to distance herself from him. His arms clamped down, possessive and solid, pinning her to him. She snarled and clawed at him, gouging deep grooves into his skin as she struggled. Frantic, giving herself over to the animalistic fury against the tyrant who claimed to own her, she screamed and snarled, bit and clawed, teeth bared, eyes searing. Understanding her need, Venlen released her cautiously, keeping his hands loose against her hips as she rose above him, striking and crying. He lay passive and still as she wrapped her hands around his throat, even lifting his chin up to give her better access.

Impossible ebony eyes blazed into hers, his expression sad and filled with understanding. It infuriated her. Her hands tightened around his throat, her teeth clenching, eyes wild and pupils blown. She was in a rage, stuck in a place dominated by instinct. She hissed as she saw him struggling to breathe. Still, he kept his arms on her hips, tightening every muscle in his body except for the hands that wrapped around her. He was close to unconsciousness. She seethed and strained, eyes locked onto his as they fluttered and slowly shut.

Deep within her, in a place guarded by shadow and hidden from sight, a voice called to her. The voice reasoned with her, brought rational thought back to her mind, whispered words that burned and cut and hurt. Let go, Laiyla.

Tears streaming down her face, her grip slowly loosened. Her chest heaved as she forced down gulps of air. The full impact of what had happened to her at his hands, what had happened to Syrus at her hands, slammed into her with unforgiving force. She did nothing to stop him when he flipped them both, looking down at her as she lay passive on the ground.

His mouth came down to meet hers. Angrily, she bit his lower lip so hard she drew blood. His hands scraped up and down her skin as she clawed at his back. Between layers of clothing, his hard cock pressed against her. She growled and tore at his shirt, losing herself to the anger, to the desire that was always there, always underneath the layers of hate she built up around her. No matter what he did to her, no matter how hard she fought him, and herself, it was always there. She hated it. She hated herself for it.

And now, she was angrily giving herself over to it.

Venlen mirrored her actions, tearing and clawing at her clothes until she was naked beneath him, and he above her. His fingers found her slick folds, her already engorged clit. Like he always did, he made her body respond, leaning into his fingers as he slipped between her folds and curled and twisted his fingers inside of her. He moaned against her and she bit down hard on his nape, sure to add to the bruises already around his neck. She slapped and slashed her nails at his chest, and roughly, he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head. Even as his fingers became drenched with her arousal, even as she arched her back and leaned into his touch, she snarled and cursed at him.

His thumb kept circling her clit as two fingers pumped in and out of her. He leaned down to her ear, nipped at the sensitive skin below it. "Verina cuvale, keonai mouv," he murmured huskily.

"Liar," she sneered. She let her hand curl around the velvety skin of his cock, thick and solid in her grip. His eyes flashed with something that almost looked like disappointment, the moment before he flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips up until she was forced to her knees. She clawed at the furs under her, trying to spin back around. His hands glided up her back and cradled the back of her skull. He gripped her hair and pulled her back. Even though his movements were rough, she knew he was holding himself back, refusing to hurt her the way she wanted him to.

If he hurt her, it would give her a reason to hate him, would make it easier to remember the monster inside of him. She clenched her teeth as he bowed her back, reaching around to play with her clit. The bulbous head of his cock pushed against her entrance and he stilled.

"I am many things, keonai mouv, but I am not a liar."

With that, he thrust into her all the way to the hilt, the sound of his hips meeting hers almost echoing in the small tent. She hissed and grit her teeth at the sensation of being so full, so suddenly. He pulled out, almost completely, and then shoved back in again. She grunted as his thrusts sped up, as his hips continue to slam up against her. He released her hair and she collapsed onto her elbows, moving back to meet him as he shoved into her, over and over. She felt cold fire coiling tighter and tighter, readying to spring. Just as she got to the edge, just as her balance faltered and she was about to tumble over, he pulled out of her completely and spun her around.

She cried out in frustration and slapped at him. He ignored her and fell on his back, twisting her up and over. She straddled him, looking down at him with angry eyes.

"Verina cuvale, keonai mouv," he repeated.

"Shut up," she hissed. She had to balance herself on his hips, he was so much bigger than her. She knelt on him, positioning herself above his cock as it danced and twitched under her grip. She lowered herself onto him, impaling herself with his length. Roughly, she moved up and down as her fingernails dug into his shoulders. His hands wrapped around her waist, lifting and lowering her in tandem with her own movements. Together they drew closer to that line, her tearing at his skin as he held her and rocked her on top of him.

"Verina cuvale, Laiyla," he breathed, and she tumbled over the edge. Her inner walls clenched and tightened around him as she cried out and shook, fire and ice gliding over her skin in wave after wave. He grunted and held her as he slammed into her, as his come shot deep into her, filling her up, making her whole.

She glared down at him, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat covering her face. "You don't," she said, matter of fact. She balanced herself with her hands on his chest, examining the muscles in his arms and neck as she waited for her breathing to even out.

He reached up and cupped her face, his thumb moving to swipe a tear away. When had she started crying? She jerked back, pulling herself out of his grip. "You know it's true, keonai mouv. You know it, deep down. And maybe even deeper down, you know you love me too."

"Fuck. You." She ground the words out from behind clenched teeth. "You don't get to fucking say things like that to me, Venlen. You don't get to love me!" She was shouting now, and shaking.

She scrambled off him, pulling on her discarded clothes. She drew heavy breaths as she glared at him from the corner furthest from him, wrapping her arms around her middle.

"You claim to care for me, reisnaig. Prove it."

He regarded her carefully for a long moment, massaging the tender flesh where her handprints were beginning to form. She felt no remorse. How many times had she nursed injuries he had given her?

"How?" he croaked. She was startled by his reaction.

"I want to run." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She let silence settle over the tent like a cloak.

"You will come back to me," he rasped. It was neither a question nor a plea. Despite the rough and grainy sound of his strained words, the command was clear. "My men will follow you, at a distance. The creatures are still out there. If there is any hint of trouble, you will turn back immediately."