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Only a thousand times. It’s something that’s puzzled me, that I should meet Zabriel and be visited by the dragonless version of him on the same day. Is this like the oils I was given? One to hide him, and one to reveal him?
Is this another choice I must make?
The man holds out his hand. “Touch me. I’m real.”
How can he be real when the real Zabriel is badly burned and waiting for me to get help? His large, strong hand has none of the calluses that Zabriel bears from dragonriding and wielding a sword. This Zabriel doesn’t have to fight for his life and his people. This Zabriel isn’t going to die.
I stare at his hand.
Then I look into his face.
Impatience is darkening his eyes. It’s there for a fraction of a second, and then he smothers it with gentle longing.
Impatience? From Zabriel, who painstakingly waited weeks and weeks for his mate to finally realize that we belong together? Impatience from a man who continuously denied himself pleasure because he knew I wasn’t ready for intimacy, even when I was lost in a false heat and begging for his knot? From a man who stood outside my door and comforted me with his voice after I panicked and threw him out? Zabriel waited five hundred years for me. Zabriel could wait five hundred more if it means that I give myself to him willingly.
This isn’t Zabriel.
I step back from this impostor with a sharp cry, but it’s too late. He snatches hold of my wrist and his cold, brutal fingers dig into my flesh. His longing morphs into vindictive cruelty, and panic bolts through my body.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, Esmeral screams. The sound vanishes in a split second as I’m yanked through something cold and resisting, and then stumble and open my eyes. The man is standing before me, an expression of triumph on his face as he grips my wrist.
We’re in a castle room that I don’t recognize, and the landscape beyond the window isn’t Lenhale.
I start to tremble in fear, and ask in a shaking voice, “Where are we?”
“The veil turns the moonlight pretty colors from this side, don’t you think?” the man asks in a mocking voice.
What does he mean, from this side? Sure enough, the moon is glistening green and purple in the sky instead of pure silver. Are we on the other side of the barrier? Has he transported me here somehow? I try to run for the door, but the stranger is holding tight to my wrist.
“Who are you?Let go of me.”
A glacial smile transforms this man’s face, making him into something far more monstrous than anything I’ve seen before. He suddenly yanks me against his chest and seethes in my face, “Why, Isavelle. I’m hurt. My name is Emmeric. Didn’t Zabriel ever tell you he has a brother?”
“You’re dead. You died hundreds of years ago.”
“Zabriel tried to kill me, him and that white-haired prick, Stesha, but they couldn’t find me.”
“You hid like a coward. You raped your sister, you monster.”
Emmeric lets go of my wrist and strikes me across the face. I’m knocked to the ground, pain burning in my cheek. He glances at his own hand with distaste. “That was unpleasant. I don’t like to sully myself with violence, not when someone else is so eager to do it for me.” He glances toward the door to where a figure stands in the shadows. “There’s someone I want to reacquaint you with, Isavelle. An old friend who’s been missing you very much.”
The figure steps forward, and I see he has a silver and black beard just visible beneath a familiar cowl and he’s holding a birch rod in one hand. My blood turns to ice.
The loathsome, familiar voice of the High Priest intones, “There you are, girl. You have a sacred duty to perform, and this time there will be no dragons and Maledinni abominations to save you.” He stands over me, his nostrils flaring. “You reek of lust and sex, you foul, disgusting girl.”
I scramble to my feet and back away from him, wishing for Zabriel harder than I’ve wished for anything in my life. My mate has no idea where I am, and he could be dying at this very moment. Esmeral can’t fly to my defense. Scourge isn’t coming to save me. My breath comes faster and faster as I realize I’m all alone with two of the most cruel and violent men in Maledin, and they want nothing but suffering for me.
Emmeric’s lip curls in disgust. “My brother has probably been rutting her, the animal that he is. Good Brethren girls should be ashamed to want a man to do such repulsive things to her. If she won’t feel shame, then someone will have to make her feel it. Don’t you think so, High Priest?”
The High Priest steps toward me, his eyes flashing with hate as he lifts the birch rod high over his head. “I do think so, Your Majesty. On your knees, girl. This time, my hand will deliver your punishment, and I won’t stop until you’re screaming your repentance.”
