Page 97 of The Dark Rising
I gently call my power and move it toward the blue, slowly, not to scare it. The black touches the blue and the strands vibrate at the contact. I suck in a breath, feeling the intensity of it myself.
Raw power touching raw power.
Our Heir powers are like no other, and gifted to no other. It’s the purest form of magic.
The blue strands flinch back, and another low whine comes from the wolf. Drax shifts inside of me and I clench my jaw, not liking the sound. My strands stay still, waiting for Rhea’s to come forward again, and they do. They wrap around each other, the blue tentatively at first, but eventually roam over the black mist like strands with eagerness. I blow out a deep breath at the feeling of contentment that runs through me, noticing that it oddly feels like the barrier that was once around Eridian.
I watch as they spin around each other, swirling together, almost like they are playing. The blue eyes in the distance lower, a low growl coming from her, but it’s not aggressive, no, it’s soft, almost like a purr. I smirk over at her.
“I will not hurt you,” I tell her, and her eyes sharpen. “Drax wouldn’t allow it.” He rumbles his agreement. “You feel him, don’t you.” Her head tips to the side. “Don’t you want to meet him properly? To run with him?” Her paw moves as she takes a tiny step forward. Drax stands tall within me, an eagerness washing over me for him. But the female wolf stops, hesitance filling her posture.
I’ll wait you out, wolf, just like I’ll wait for your keeper.
I watch our powers, moving and thriving with a mixed feeling of fascination and rightness when I feel a new presence enter the space.
I turn my head and look toward the new being as the power of Zahariss swishes off in the same direction. A hand appears when the glow of that power reaches for it, calling it. The blue stands wrap around the hand, almost in greeting, as the face of a woman who controls my every thought appears.
Rhea watches her power float around her palm, a small smile on her face as wiggles her fingers. I can’t look away from her beauty, from her delicate features that also haunt my nightmares from what I did at Wolvorn Castle. The same features that were twisted with pain as I stripped the flesh from her back at the command of Higher Charles, making her bleed all over that stone floor.
She looks so innocent playing with her magic, and I hate myself more for ever giving her an ounce of pain, for being partially responsible for taking her home away from her. A home she fought for with every strand of her soul.
I did that because I couldn’t refuse the command. I couldn’t let my men suffer over a traitor, no matter what she was to me.
If I could change that day, I would.
If I could go back and change ever agreeing to go into The Deadlands, I would.
No. No, I wouldn’t have changed that. Because to not have her, even as hateful as she is, is a crime higher than any other. But I should have pushed her more to talk to me in Eridian. I knew something wasn’t right, but I automatically thought she was the one doing something to her pack, thought she was harmful to them.
Rhea was just a pawn in the games of people in power through no fault of her own. Being an Heir of Zahariss marked a target on her back since the day she was born, and I have to wonder if I hadn’t had my own memories blocked, would my life have been similar to hers?
Would I have been trained to do unspeakable things to females like she was trained to let it happen, otherwise there would be consequences?
My upbringing was warm. I was a happy child. My mother and sister gave me all the affection I needed as a child, and my father, although cold, taught me everything I needed to know about being an Elite. As I grew older, the harder he was on me, and he didn’t have time for me anymore. Yet even he had ulterior motives as Elites were made to hunt Heirs. He was an accomplice in what happened to Rhea. He wasn’t a man I knew at all.
A small giggle has my hearing homing in on the sound. I haven’t heard it in so long, and a rush of...something flows over me. It starts in my chest and expands, until it runs down my arm to the center of my forearm. I want to hear more of that, I want to hear it daily, and I want to be the cause of it. Just like I also want to hear her cry out my name when I make her come on my cock. It’s a daily need.
The few times I’d fucked her during her heat and yesterday wasn’t enough, not nearly at all. Those weeks searching for her after she escaped Wolvorn Castle have always ended with my hand wrapped around my cock to the memory of me pounding into her, remembering her little moans and cries of pleasure. The way her body trembled and needed to be as close to me as possible.
I did that to her, me. And I’ll be the only one to do so.
She was mine the moment I locked eyes with her in The Deadlands, whether she likes it or not. I couldn’t give a fuck, the truth still stands.
She will only have pleasure from me in all forms. From my hands, my mouth, my cock, just like yesterday. Not even her own dainty fingers will get her off unless I allow it, and she will get her ass slapped for every time she comes by herself if I find out about it. The good thing for her is, no one else has touched her since she ran from me. I would know.
I placed my scent on her during her heat, that, I don’t even think she knows about, and she wouldn’t unless someone approached her with the intent of claiming her. That’s the only time when an Alpha is able to scent it, it lets them know she is claimed. Letting them know that if they want her, then they need to challenge me.
And no one will challenge the Alpha of the Elites.
Another laugh, this one more lighthearted and I’ve had enough of hiding in the shadows.
I stalk toward her, noticing her wolf has also backed away into the darkness. Rhea’s gaze is too focused on her power to see me coming until I’m right in front of her. “Little wolf,” I murmur, and I know my voice is a low husky tone by the way goosebumps pepper her skin. Her head snaps up and her eyes widen in my presence. I let loose a smirk and grab her chin, keeping her where I want her. “Looks like I’m in your mind this time.”
“What?” She tries to look around but my hold won’t let her. “We’re inside...me?”
“I’m about to be inside of you,” I growl low and slam my mouth down onto hers, unable to keep this sudden need away. Not after hearing the innocent happiness coming from her.
She squeaks in surprise, her hands clawing at my grip on her chin. I don’t relent, I don’t let up. I can’t hold back anymore. I use my free hand to glide up her back, up to her nape and take a fist full of her hair, sharply pulling her head back. She gasps into my mouth, and I don’t waste the opportunity.
