“I…I acknowledge you as…my lord,” he stuttered.
Ademordna froze, clearly taken aback by the unexpected entreaty.
“Say it again!” he thundered.
Nachari steadied himself. “I acknowledge you, milord.”
Ademordna cocked his head to the side, and then he bent over and licked Nachari’s cheek with his long, slithery tongue, leaving acid-burnt skin peeling away in its wake. He held Nachari’s gaze, eye to eye, on the same level. “Good boy,” he whispered. And then he patted him on the head.
Nachari did not turn away; rather, he averted his eyes in a pretend gesture of respect.
Noiro jumped up then, looking both shocked and disappointed. “But I was just starting to have fun.” She stuck out her bottom lip and stamped her foot against the ground. “He’s soooo beautiful when he screams.” Her ridiculous red hair swayed in time to her emphatic gesturing.
“That is enough…for today,” Ademordna said, his voice full of self-satisfaction. He turned to the winged creature standing in the background panting with excitement. “Clean him up, Devion, and bring him to my throne room. He will rest for an hour or so. And then we will begin his torment…again.”
Nachari dropped his head and held his tongue, fighting to stop his body from convulsing.
Yes, he would accept an hour or so of rest. As often as he could.
He would comply with the revolting bastard, and he would gain strength.
He had used his Magick to escape the Abyss once—if only for a fleeting moment—and that meant he could use it again.
It could be done.
As Noiro bent to kiss the top of his head, he forced himself to remain perfectly still.
Not to shudder.
And not to pull away.
As her acidic lips touched his scalp, he let out a barely audible moan of contrived pleasure, low enough that only she could hear. Her shocked, hopeful expression told him all he needed to know; yes, she would be his pawn…to use and command, eventually.
Blinking rapidly, she stepped back and stared at him in yearning desperation. He winked, allowing her a moment’s reciprocated gaze into his deep emerald eyes. Not too much too soon , he thought. And then he abruptly looked away, leaving her forlorn.
If the foul female thought she loved him—as sick, twisted, and demented as the freak of evil nature was—then so be it. At the least, she needed his seed to sire her idea of some beautiful, vampire-wizard-demon super child.
As if!
Well, two could play that game.
It was time to stop resisting and start planning. It was time to become strategic. Nachari Silivasi had a destiny . And she was alive and on the earth…already in Dark Moon Vale.
He had thirty days to return to her—less than that, really, if the required sacrifice was to be made in time—so he would use Noiro, Ademordna, and every demon in hell if that was what it took to make it back home to his female.
Yes, he would rest for an hour.
And then he would begin…anew.
eight
Dark Moon Vale
Kagen, Nathaniel, and Marquis sat in the Healer’s second-story office above the clinic’s main floor in deafening silence, each one staring off into the distance. The rustic, corporate feel of the large, majestic space with its wide-plank wood flooring and two-story stone fireplace provided the perfect backdrop for what they were feeling: overwhelmed and powerless to act against the whims of nature.
Why had the gods chosen now—this time—to bring Nachari his destiny ? Kagen wondered. He shifted uncomfortably against the soft velvet chaise and met the eyes of his brothers for the first time, each one in turn, as they sat across from him in large, leather armless chairs.
Marquis practically glowered with anger. He cleared his throat. Twice. “Did anyone make an official record of the time?”
Nathaniel stirred. “Seven o’clock PM.”
Nachari’s Blood Moon had occurred at precisely seven o’clock PM on Monday, January 25th, which meant the male had until precisely seven o’clock PM on
Ademordna froze, clearly taken aback by the unexpected entreaty.
“Say it again!” he thundered.
Nachari steadied himself. “I acknowledge you, milord.”
Ademordna cocked his head to the side, and then he bent over and licked Nachari’s cheek with his long, slithery tongue, leaving acid-burnt skin peeling away in its wake. He held Nachari’s gaze, eye to eye, on the same level. “Good boy,” he whispered. And then he patted him on the head.
Nachari did not turn away; rather, he averted his eyes in a pretend gesture of respect.
Noiro jumped up then, looking both shocked and disappointed. “But I was just starting to have fun.” She stuck out her bottom lip and stamped her foot against the ground. “He’s soooo beautiful when he screams.” Her ridiculous red hair swayed in time to her emphatic gesturing.
“That is enough…for today,” Ademordna said, his voice full of self-satisfaction. He turned to the winged creature standing in the background panting with excitement. “Clean him up, Devion, and bring him to my throne room. He will rest for an hour or so. And then we will begin his torment…again.”
Nachari dropped his head and held his tongue, fighting to stop his body from convulsing.
Yes, he would accept an hour or so of rest. As often as he could.
He would comply with the revolting bastard, and he would gain strength.
He had used his Magick to escape the Abyss once—if only for a fleeting moment—and that meant he could use it again.
It could be done.
As Noiro bent to kiss the top of his head, he forced himself to remain perfectly still.
Not to shudder.
And not to pull away.
As her acidic lips touched his scalp, he let out a barely audible moan of contrived pleasure, low enough that only she could hear. Her shocked, hopeful expression told him all he needed to know; yes, she would be his pawn…to use and command, eventually.
Blinking rapidly, she stepped back and stared at him in yearning desperation. He winked, allowing her a moment’s reciprocated gaze into his deep emerald eyes. Not too much too soon , he thought. And then he abruptly looked away, leaving her forlorn.
If the foul female thought she loved him—as sick, twisted, and demented as the freak of evil nature was—then so be it. At the least, she needed his seed to sire her idea of some beautiful, vampire-wizard-demon super child.
As if!
Well, two could play that game.
It was time to stop resisting and start planning. It was time to become strategic. Nachari Silivasi had a destiny . And she was alive and on the earth…already in Dark Moon Vale.
He had thirty days to return to her—less than that, really, if the required sacrifice was to be made in time—so he would use Noiro, Ademordna, and every demon in hell if that was what it took to make it back home to his female.
Yes, he would rest for an hour.
And then he would begin…anew.
eight
Dark Moon Vale
Kagen, Nathaniel, and Marquis sat in the Healer’s second-story office above the clinic’s main floor in deafening silence, each one staring off into the distance. The rustic, corporate feel of the large, majestic space with its wide-plank wood flooring and two-story stone fireplace provided the perfect backdrop for what they were feeling: overwhelmed and powerless to act against the whims of nature.
Why had the gods chosen now—this time—to bring Nachari his destiny ? Kagen wondered. He shifted uncomfortably against the soft velvet chaise and met the eyes of his brothers for the first time, each one in turn, as they sat across from him in large, leather armless chairs.
Marquis practically glowered with anger. He cleared his throat. Twice. “Did anyone make an official record of the time?”
Nathaniel stirred. “Seven o’clock PM.”
Nachari’s Blood Moon had occurred at precisely seven o’clock PM on Monday, January 25th, which meant the male had until precisely seven o’clock PM on
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