Page 26 of The Sacrifice

When I wake, Qora is nowhere to be found.

I scrunch my brows and rise from the bed until I register the soreness between my thighs. And how I’m in a completely different tower room with fresh sheets under me and a wool blanket draped over me. At first, I spread my legs and carefully lower my fingers to my pussy, wincing from how inflamed, swollen, and red it is. It feels like a log shoved its way inside. Make that a log with scales. I bite my lower lip and rub my eyes in disbelief. Now, it dawns on me how strange the pain is. Perhaps, because it was done by the dragon, I still feel it. All of me flushes from head to toe with the knowledge. Slowly, carefully, I shift onto my side and touch my backside, my lips tugging into a smile when I discover the welts and marks are healing from some oil spread upon my skin.

Aww...my breaths come heavier when I think of the dragon king rubbing a balm onto my cheeks while I slept. Tears form in my eyes from the emotion welling up inside me. Pater never healed me after his spankings. Not that I would have felt it regardless. But now, my belly flutters with a warmth I never thought possible. I open my mouth, lurching to tell Qora, remembering she’s not here. My skin prickles, but Qora’s probably exploring. She’s never too far from me.

In any case, I’m positively ravenous. So, I waste no time in climbing out of the bed, a little wobbly, my muscles and limbs more like noodles. I peer around the room. It mirrors the last with a high window overlooking the Waste, but unlike the other, which showed a view of the corpse village, this one overlooks a sprawling landscape of nothing but a plague of forests. From here, the trees remind me of great, bony hands rising from the ground, spindly fingers clawing for the sky. So thickly clumped together, I can’t make out any paths or other landmarks. Shadow-fliers abound, carrion searching for any possible blood. I shake off a shiver. At the far corner of my eye is the barest view of one of the great dragon skeletons. The side of its head nudges the tower wall with its bone snout curving under my window. Up close, it doesn’t seem as intimidating. And I can’t help but smile since it reminds me of Drago.

I’m not about to roam the castle naked.

Skidding across the room to the massive wardrobe, I fling the doors open and scan the clothes. Nothing feminine whatsoever, but I hardly care. Not when Pater locked me in the root cellar on more than one occasion for sneaking out of the house in boy trousers and tunics. Beaming, I select a pair of dark pants, a crisp gray collared shirt that will compliment my hair, and a black leather bomber jacket that cuts off at my hips since I’m a good deal more petite than the gods. The clothes are loose, bordering on baggy, but they’re clean. There are a number of bowties in the wardrobe, but after trying to tie one around the collar, I finally huff and give up, tossing it back in.

Eyeing myself in the mirror, I sigh, thinking I look more like some street urchin. I gather my hair into a messy braid and tiptoe out of the room in search of food. If the dragon king wants to fuck me again, which I highly doubt, then he’ll need to feed me first.

* * *

After wandering down halls and corridors without finding a trace of a kitchen or dining hall—though plenty of masks riddle the walls—I finally discover someone with their back turned to me, dark shawl covering their head.

“Excuse me...” I say, a little breathless from my exploring. Not to mention how sore I am, which is why it’s taken longer to explore. Walking is...difficult.

As soon as the figure turns, I stop in my tracks. While she’s human-like, reminding me of the twisted ones who brought me to the castle, the woman bears distinctive bird features: half a bird skull for one side of her face, feathers cladding her head and sides of her face, one decrepit wing hangs at her side, and her feet are the withered limbs of a bird complete with talons. Her smile, at least what I believe is a smile, is twisted, bordering on gruesome, as she approaches me, lifting the arm on the opposite of her wing. While a couple of talons are where the fingers should be, they curve inward as if to welcome me.

I smile back and purse my lips, hesitant to approach—but fascinated by her appearance, by anyone in the Waste. After observing ghosts all my life, the Waste folk are more interesting.

When she opens her half mouth-half bone beak to speak, what comes out is more of a garbled squawk. “Eyn-Am-a-ruuuu.”

I part my lips, chewing on my inner cheek, unsure of what to say.

“It’s not polite to stare, little dove.”

All the hairs on my skin stand on end while my blood turns to ice. Still, I ball my hands into fists, turn to face the vampire standing in the shadows behind me, and stab out my chin to say, “It’s not polite to stalk, creepy vampire.”

Merikh steps out from the shadows, and I swallow a knot in my throat. Doing my best not to shrink from his form towering over mine, I meet his glare with a mischievous smile. With all the ferocious grace of a god, the vampire bares his fangs, grips my jaw and shoulder, and forces my neck to tilt. “If I was stalking you, little dove, you would never know it,” he growls in a harsh voice, and I shiver as he scrapes his fangs along the curve of my neck. Oh, worshipful Waste, I’m close enough to touch his chest and feel the imprints of his scars. “If I wasn’t convinced your blood would taste more like ink, I’d fucking bite you here and now for your impertinence and disrespect.”

“I—"

He yanks on my hair, and pain howls in my scalp, dragging a whimper from me. I won’t admit it was a whimper of pleasure, of how much I love his brutality. Pater was a bully. Merikh is a sadist who rouses my fear and ignites adrenaline in my veins. But the last thing I’ll do is beg. After all, it’s more fun to play with him.

“On your knees where you rightly should be,” he commands.

I drop to the floor, abiding by this rule of the game—even if I smartly stare up at him with my smirk growing. He’s positioned me right between his legs, and as much as he may choose the side of torment, the telltale bulge in his breeches says otherwise. I inhale a sharp breath when I notice the jerking movement midway down his upper leg. Just a few inches above his knee. My eyes widen with the knowledge that he’s as massive and hung as Drago. Are they all? What do vampire dicks look like? I give myself an internal slap.

“You will address me with my due title, little dove,” he says through gritted teeth. “The next time my name flees your little mouth without my sovereignty attached, I’ll fuck that impertinent peasant mouth so hard and deep, I’ll wreck your fucking vocal cords. Is that clear?” he finalizes, his eyes like small blood moons.

“My apologies, Lord Merikh,” I lay it on thick and lick my lips. “Surely, your highness, you would take mercy on such an impudent and uncivilized Borderlands girl like myself. After all, I’m certain I’m no more important to you than a little dove, so it’s a wonder you would acknowledge me whatsoever! Lord Merikh, I am honored to kneel in your presence.” I court his darkness, his violence. And grin the whole time.

Merikh gnashes his teeth, gripping my hair even harder. I squeak, alarmed he’s going to tear some out by their roots, but the bird-like servant steps forward and warbles, “Lawwwd Drrrago! Lawwwd Drrrago!” she insists, knocking a breath of wind my way from her attempt at flapping that weathered wing. And I’ve never been so grateful that the alpha of their group chose to fuck me.

With a guttural hiss, Merikh shoves me to the floor, where I’m half-tempted to kiss it, or his boots to drive my self-deprecating humor home. But I’ll save that for later. Instead, I rise and smile at the servant, this Eyn-Amaru, as I assume is her name.

“Thank you.” I nod to her before gesturing to myself. “Quintessa,”

“Tessieee,” she acknowledges, and I can’t help but blush from the term of endearment she’s learned from Drago.

“I hear your meager belly rumbling from here, little dove,” remarks Merikh from the other end of the hall. “Drago is waiting for you. I’d suggest you pick up your feet and follow now before I decide to feast on the little morsel of your body instead of fattening you up as he desires.”

“I am so pleased you believe you could stomach me, Lord Merikh,” I say sweetly once we reach his side, but I’m still thankful Eyn-Amaru serves as a barrier between the vampire king and me. His eyes turn blacker and deeper than the Veil.

I feel them on me the entire way to the Great Hall.

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