Authors: Poppet
Chapter 20
Zaria
:
His home is a sprawling web of rooms, and I think I'm lost.
Twisting back, I look at the room behind me. This is like the Hotel California, because there's no way out. It's opulent, luxurious, five hundred degrees above the level of comfort most mortals live in, and it's creepy.
My bare feet squeak on shiny marble floors, the furniture in this suite is salmon brocade, the chandeliers reminiscent of an age of grandeur, and the panels on the veneered wall are gilded with copper edges to mirror the pinks of the fabrics.
Claustrophobia grabs me and I start running to the next beamed arch which shine like varnished wood sentries between the rooms, witnessing my panic and disorientation.
My path leads me through eras of décor, until I'm caught in a deep black hell. The floor is shiny obsidian volcanic glass. The chairs scent the room heavily with black leather and cherry tobacco, and the well in the centre is thickly padded with midnight velvet cushions placed in a viewing circle before a huge screen.
With my cheeks burning, my eyes smarting, I run and run and run, trying to find a way out. I need air!
Instead, I'm stuck deeper inside the spider's deadly web when I screech to a halt, slipping and landing on my ass when I realize where I am.
Oh god.
It's a knowing that comes from deep inside. This is
his
bedroom.
The bed is wide enough for three trolls, draped in silk so darkly purple it looks psychedelic black. It's recessed inside an alcove, as if to hide the dragon in the cave where he sleeps.
His walls are painted suede charcoal and the swirls catch light filtering down from round skylights scattered across the mausoleum-gray ceiling - interspersed with sunken lights.
A fireplace fills one wall, dark and dangerous with a black marble mantelpiece; candelabra wait patiently on the thick lip with books and intricately carved boxes.
Standing slowly, as if the slightest noise will send me falling into a death-trap, I pivot to survey the rest.
A black-mirrored wall to my right, which I assume hides another room, a wide opening leading to a bathroom the size of my entire apartment, and a dark lounge mostly shrouded in shadows.
It smells of him in here. Mysterious and powerful, full of secrets.
Panic nooses my throat again and I twist to run, zigzagging as if through a minefield I sprint blindly until my lungs burn and I give in, sinking down a wall, hiding in a suffocating corner, unable to keep the tears locked inside me any longer.
I'm caged by him. His home is as enormous as he is, and just as malevolent. No amount of wealth can buffer this oppressing atmosphere.
It stifles me.
He
stifles me.
*
Ryan
:
She's hiding in the fern conservatory. It's obvious Zaria is missing sunshine and the outdoors, and it's stabbing me with guilt.
None of them have supplies here and I'm smugly delighted that the three Slakax are walking around in my black shirts. The ambient light catches Zaria's onyx hair, glossing the strands as they curl over her arm where it rests on her knees positioned under her chin.
She's so easy on the eyes I could stare at her for hours. Her skin is honeysuckle-blossom pale and flawless; her lips are full and tempting. Even when she bites her bottom lip, it depresses the cushion as if it would pop. She glosses it with the tip of her tongue; it calls to my veins, to my pulse,
suck me
.
Zaria would be perfectly sexy in this moment if her eyes weren't so hauntingly sad. In this pose she's a monochrome photographer's wet dream. Such beauty cloaked in so much despair; it's poignant, captivating, a juxtaposition of light and dark.
Perfect.
So absolutely perfect.
Crossing stealthily to the waif dressed in skinny black jeans and my voluminous button up shirt, I offer her the mug of coffee I brought as a peace offering. Inhaling her scent, filling my lungs, I taste sun-burnished clouds on a bitter day.
She is a ray of birthing opportunity, a promise sitting waiting to bloom, right here in my reach, in my home, deep in the charred wound of my life.
Hollow glassy eyes look up at me as she forces a smile, taking the mug, “Thank you.”
This is hell for her. She's a light child and she's gloomy without it. The sunshine hidden in her irises is missing, making her eyes dull and empty.
Smoothing her hair behind her shoulder for her, I go down on my haunches to look her in the eye, “What's the matter?”
A sob hiccups through the silence and dew forms on her lashes.
“
I miss him,” she whispers.
Her voice is tight, strangled, mirroring her state of mind.
“
I know,” I soothe, automatically rubbing the shoulder.
She squirms away from my touch, staring obstinately into her mug before taking a sip.
“
Zaria, your thoughts are becoming so loud I can hear them across the house. I wanted to keep you safe but can't stand this misery choking the life out of you. You can all go home tomorrow, and let whatever comes, come.”
Stark eyes pierce my heart when hope enters their depths, “Really?”
I nod, standing, moving to the adjoining chair, “Of course really. You are not my prisoner.” Sitting down, I face her, “You never will be.”
Her mind is elsewhere, fretting over Zauran. She thinks he's dead, unfortunately so do I. I can offer no comfort without it sounding false.
One thing is certain though, she loves him far more than I gave either of them credit. This has been brewing for months and I discovered her at the culmination of their relationship.
“
Ryan, help him. Help me. Please?”
Frustrated, I squash down the retort, murmuring, “I don't know where to look. He's nowhere that he should be, no one has heard a thing. This was such a covert attack none of the locals have any news to share, no leads to follow...”
“
I miss him,” she pleads again, so softly it's like chimes on a distant breeze.
Absently her hand goes to the hollow between prominent hip bones. She wants those children. Despite the risk, everything she thinks announces her desire clearly. Now that he's missing it's even worse; she's holding to them in case they're all she has left of him.
I nod, as if to say I'm looking for him, I haven't given up.
Who knew a pot of soup could make a woman so faithful and devoted.
She'll never be mine.
Sighing heavily, I look up at the sunlight hitting static dust motes.
They give me an idea. I know exactly how to cheer her up.
I'm an alpha,
an elder
, it's time I deployed the tools at my disposal.
*
Sveta:
Damn him! Damn Jowendrhan to hell!
Her skin is tingeing with blue, her breath rasping as if she's breathing through sludge, her body limp and weak where she lies in my arms.
“
Božena, tell me what you need. Talk to me, I can't help you if you don't tell me how you're feeling.”
“
The walls,” she whimpers, her gaze sliding to stare at the rock.
She eyes them as if they're thugs waiting to machete her head open. It's a nervous shifty glance before her twilight eyes settle back on me. “They glow, and crackle...”
Rasp.
Gasping another inhalation, her eyes look vacant again, “There's something wrong with the walls.”
Cramping in on herself as if in pain, a tiny squeal squeaks out of her throat.
She's trying to be brave, anyone can see that, and god it makes me desire her even more. She's like me, dark and defiant.
I've had days to skim through her mind, finding decadent and violent tastes hidden beneath her fey exterior.
Zena looks like an angel but thinks like the darkness she is. She's an unusual specimen. Slakax are usually pure bright light, but every so often one comes to balance it with darklight. This child has darklight in her veins, in her soul, in her deep blue incredible eyes the hue of a midnight ocean.
Kissing her forehead, I pause, terrified. She's going cold. Vampyre are burning hot. Neuri are just as incinerating. She has my mark to protect her and Jowendrhan's, and yet she is growing frosty to the touch.
Something is catastrophically wrong.
“
I'll be right back,” I promise, squeezing her hand and kissing across her fingers.
Diving out of her suite, I yell for my brother, keeping it silent from the rest of the guests.
Shit!
Ryan! Now brother! NOW!
*
Zauran
:
“
No Zauran! That means you leave a woman alone in this world to raise two babies she has no clue how to guide!”
Venix steps over me again, his aggression blatant.
Ejecting words like bullets out of an automatic rifle, he says, “That's exactly the kind of fucked up logic that got this world into the mess it's in. You are neuri! Zaria needs a neuri to keep her children in line when their powers manifest. Abandoning her, pregnant, is not the altruistic road you assume it is. It's another
selfish
option.”
“
Venix fuck off! Are you saying I should choose innocent babies die instead of myself? Instead of her?!”
“
Babies don't die, Zauran. All life belongs to Spirit. They will be go right back to the universal source which is where all existence ends up anyway. This human condition is limited. Human thoughts cannot conceive that all life comes from one spiritual source, and that no life dies. A body is just flesh and bone, but spirit cannot die. It is better to give a child the world, or prevent it completely. You provide for your children completely, or you do not have them. And you are there for her through it all, as her strength. Are we clear?”
I give him my back off glare, “So the answer you want is the babies die, and Zaria and myself live.”
“
Yes. You already have life, memories, people depending on you. You have to complete your cycle here. The babies haven't even begun.”
A groan behind me stirs with movement and I figure Jowendrhan has finally joined the party. Good. It's his turn to take some heat.
What the hell did he do that he's here?
The second I banished Sveta, my back-up, all hell broke loose in my life. Lesson learned, keep your allies closer than a shadow.
Venix moves out of my line of sight and I hear the smash of teeth connecting violently when he slams into Jowendrhan, shunting me forward.
“
And you! How dare you! Think you can turn Slakax into vampyre? Think you can start a harem? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Bham!
“
You will undo what you've done, and your ability to have children is stripped from you,
forever
. What you did was unforgivable.”
Stepping back so I can see him, his fury is overpowering the room, shining at us so we cannot look his way.
“
Zauran and Jowendrhan, you discuss, you ask, you include the mother of your children in that decision! You don't yell surprise after the fact! If there's one thing you never do, it is play roulette with life! You knew what you were doing, just like every man who doesn't wear a condom knows the risks of his actions. You take responsibility! You treat them as the precious women they are, you show them respect, you are supposed to be their strength, not their abuser, not their tyrant, and not their dictator! She was given to you by Spirit as a companion! That's it! To alleviate your loneliness because nothing makes you feel better than when a woman looks up at you with love! And what do you two do? Fuck it up! Royally!”
“
You will fix this!” bellows so loud my vision is speckled with stars.
*
Božena
:
The world tortures. I hurt so much every heartbeat is an ache, as if my blood has turned to quicksilver and is too heavy to pump.
Flopping, I stare at the wall glowing its lemon zest lava, but cold and ominous. The dark veins running through it tzzzzt periodically, sparking from one spike to the next, building pressure. Building and building an atmosphere so thick I can't breathe.
I feel as though I'm trying to sleep with the Blarney stone on my chest. The numb is spreading, filtering higher. It started at my toes and is almost level with my breasts now. Crushing me internally it's a brutal fist squeezing tighter and tighter.
Screw being a vampyre. If this is what it's like he can take his immortality and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. And he can take his evil babies with him!