The Dark God's Bride

  “I’m Mary and she’s Elaine,” the woman with the dark hair and pale skin made a quick introduction. “The doctor instructed you take your medications with food.”

  Amara nodded and picked up the spoon.

  “We’re so relieved that you came through. Your high fever had us all worried. Your husband was very worried about you.”

  Worried? Best joke of the day.

  Amara raised a brow. “Husband…?”

  “Oh, he’s not? We just assumed since…”

  “It’s very common for couples to live together nowadays,” the other maid interrupted her colleague’s sentence.

  Amara frowned. She didn’t like the sound of it, but if she denied even that, then the only two other titles left to her name would be slut or whore. What else would they call a girl sleeping in the same bed with a man who is neither her husband nor her boyfriend?

  Her breakfast tasted like cardboard, but she forced the contents down her throat so she could take her medicines. After swallowing the pills, she slept again.

  She dreamt of being stolen out of the window by a mythological beast.

  Noctis came to a sudden halt. He knew instantly something was out of place. The mortal’s scent faded quickly, until he couldn’t smell her at all.

  He shifted into their bedroom and furiously growled when he discovered an empty bed. A red haze veiled over his vision. His mortal was gone. Someone had taken her.

  The wind was blowing on the curtains of the wide open window. He strode to the window, and suspiciously scanned the rose gardens. The plants had been trampled on. Petals scattered on the ground. Huge canine foot tracks were left in the dirt leading into the forest surrounding the property.

  “Lycans…!” He said through gritted teeth. They trespassed into my home and stole her from me! Can’t have that... Definitely can’t have that.

  His right hand gripped into the curtain and the thick material turned to ash in an instant. Amidst his seething, murderous rage, Noctis felt a flicker of disparaging amusement. It was one of those rare moments. He suddenly felt pity for the poor souls who were ill witted enough to have attempted the abduction and Heaven help her if she had anything to do with this.

  She was delirious with fever. She couldn’t have possibly conspired against me.

  His ire cooled significantly.

  At the thought of her still struggling with each breath, an infinitely more dangerous emotion darkened his mind and clamped at his chest. He inhaled deeply for whatever patience his natural inclinations would permit, and then he reeled back the last of his sanity to calculate his next move.

  Chapter Eleven

  The last three days had turned from strange to stranger and from bad to worst. Amara came to full consciousness inside a massive underground structure called “The Lair”, which was the home to all Lycans. It was a city in itself and it felt like something that had jumped right out of a science fiction book.

  She had no idea how she got there, but she knew that her dream of being abducted had something to do with it. Luckily, Dimitri was there to explain the situation to her.

  “Now you’ve heard everything,” Dimitri said, as he popped a bite size bruschetta in his mouth.

  “So you’re saying that King Lysander ‘saved’ me, so that he can strike a bargain with my brother?”

  Dimitri nodded.

  Amara gave him a cynical look. “What does he want?”

  “I’m not supposed to say.”

  “Your King is going to ruin everything for me!” Amara cried.

  “He saved you from a deranged deity,” Dimitri reminded her, “remember?”

  “He’s making everything worse!” Amara said with exasperation, as she sank down on the bed. “The deranged deity is going to find me and he’s going to…” She whimpered at the thought. “A lot of people are going to get hurt!”

  “No one can find this place. It’s very secretive.”

  “That’s not the point, D.” She stood again. “Where is this King of yours? I wish to speak to him directly.”

  Dimitri shook his head in refusal. “It’s not that easy. He grants audiences, not the other way around. Why don’t you just relax and have some bruschetta until your brother comes for you? When you feel better, the boys and I want a rematch.”

  “I’m about to die and all you think about is poker.” She jabbed his broad chest with her forefinger. “You’re the one who told him about me, didn’t you?”

  He gave her a guileless look. “I just wanted to help.”

  She folded her arms in front of her chest and stared up at him. “And how do you suppose you will help me out of this situation? Once I start running, I will have to keep running until the day I die.” She snapped her finger when a bright idea popped into her head. “Tie me up.”

  “What?” He stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “I’m going to play the victim, because I am the victim. When he comes, I will deny any part in this.”

  “Your fever hasn’t completely gone down, has it?”

  She checked her temperature. “It’s still a little warm.”

  His large finger gave her a little shove on the shoulder. She lost her balance and she tumbled into bed. “Rest... I will be back later.”

  He returned the next day sweating bullets. He looked bruised, battered, and bloodied. Amara spared him a quick glance from the magazine she was flipping through.

  “Your deranged deity is hunting down Lycans to find out your whereabouts. He is destroying whoever doesn’t cooperate and we Lycans do not cooperate.”

  She gave him an ‘I told you so’ look and then shrugged as if it was none of her business.

  They brought it upon themselves to mess with a powerful being with little, if anything, to lose. Insignificant as she may be, she was the only leverage in this age-old plot for revenge. She could imagine how pissed he was when he found her gone.

  She damped the tip of her finger with her saliva and causally flipped to another page.

  The day after that, she woke up to a pink haired girl scrutinizing her body with keen interests. Amara thought the girl was part of a dream, but then her eyes snapped opened like a rubber band when the girl groped her breasts. She bolted up immediately.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You are very pretty,” the girl replied with an innocent smile.

  Innocent, my ass!

  “That doesn’t give you any right to molest me, Lycan girl!”

  She giggled. “Oh no, I’m not a Lycan. I’m human, like you.”

  Amara scanned her surroundings, and then shook her head in disbelief. “We’re in a Lycan’s lair. Unless you are also a captive, I don’t see…”

  “I’m here of my own free will,” she confessed. “I insisted on it, in fact.”

  “And they let you stay?”

  “They have no choice.” She hesitated for a minute. “Let’s get the introduction out of the way first. I am Artemis Herald, unofficial Queen of the Lycans.”

  “Unofficial?”

  “Well… Lysander hasn’t exactly… acknowledged me as his mate yet, but he will.” Her voice turned doubtful. “I’m sure he will.”

  “Why were you… um… groping my breasts, your majesty?”

  “They’re nice and perky. I was curious about the feel of them.”

  Amara blinked.

  “I admire beautiful things,” the girl said. “It’s my fatal flaw, I’m afraid. When I was younger, I had an obsession with stones, and then it elevated to jewels and now… beautiful people.”

  “Talk about a confidence booster.” Amara straightened her shoulders and beamed. “I like you already.”

  “You’re the first who doesn’t think I’m odd.”

  She’d met a lot of weirdoes in the two years living among her own kind. The deranged deity topped them
all. He made this girl seem almost normal by comparison. “It’s my turn to be curious. Why doesn’t the Lycan King acknowledge you as his mate?”

  “Have you ever heard of the story from Arabian Nights about the fisherman who freed an angry genie who swore to kill whoever freed him, because he had waited so long?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Well, Lysander thinks he’s gone so long without a mate that he doesn’t need one – especially a mortal.”

  “Gotcha…!” Amara finally understood. Lysander doesn’t want his long awaited mate to die on him, so he rejected her entirely. It was kind of romantic, but a bit out of character for a man who was notoriously known as the Wicked Lycan King. The ‘wicked’ must have come from somewhere.

  “Where is she?”

  An impatient question deserves a hasty answer. The Lycan hesitated a moment too long. Noctis gripped tightly on the Lycan’s arm and severed it from his body. He roared out in agony. Blood poured onto the ground by the buckets.

  “You are running out of limbs,” Noctis said. “Tell me where she is. I simply want what was taken from me.”

  No answer, just a hateful and stubborn glare.

  If the Lycan will not talk, then he must die. Noctis grabbed the Lycan’s head and ripped it from his body in a single, deliberately slow motion. More warm blood sprayed his face. He dropped the head to the ground and moved onto the next Lycan standing frozen in his time circle.

  “What about you?” Noctis asked as soon as he released the Lycan from time’s grip. “You are the last one. Tell me what I want to know and I will spare you from what I did to your little friends.” He gestured toward the pile of corpses.

  “Bastard!” the Lycan cursed at him.

  “The girl… where is she?” He repeated the question, as he had many times before.

  “I don’t fucking know!” The Lycan spat at his face. His patience was thinning. He grabbed the Lycan by the throat. “Then give me the names of the ones who do know.”

  The Lycan growled. “Fuck you!”

  “Perhaps I am approaching this all wrong. Your kind does not fear pain or death.” His eyes narrowed. “But like all things, there is always a weakness. Could you be bribed, perhaps?”

  The Lycan’s expression turned uglier.

  “No then? It’s a shame… I know very little about your kind, but I know plenty about men. Is it your female?”

  Noctis dematerialized when the Lycan lunged at him. He rematerialized several feet away to avoid being slashed.

  “Hunting the females it is. One of them is bound to be yours.”

  “Would you sink so low as to harm the females?”

  Noctis carelessly shrugged. “Your kind aimed at mine. It would only be divine retribution, would it not?”

  “We didn’t have hostile intentions toward the girl.”

  Noctis lunged forward and clutched the Lycan’s throat. The Lycans may be fast, but he was much faster. He controlled time. “So you admit that you took her.”

  “Saved her, from you.”

  “Why?” Noctis tightened his grip at the Lycan’s hesitation.

  “So we can trade her to the demon prince.”

  “Demon prince…?” Suspicions rose. “What does he look like?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Tell me!” Noctis bellowed.

  “Six…foot…two, brilliant platinum hair, pale blue eyes…the face of an angel.”

  It can’t be! Does that mean that she is with him now?

  He ground his teeth so vehemently that his jaw was near breaking. “You Lycans have no idea what you have done.”

  As promised, he spared the Lycan and returned to his bedroom in a blink of an eye. He collapsed onto the bed and covered his face with his forearms. He let out a low growl, dreading the absolute silence.

  Her scent still lingered about.

  Her scent may be here, but she has already returned to her rightful place.

  He should be happy – no – celebrating the awakening of is arch-nemesis. He should be plotting and scheming his way to bring Lucifer down, not thinking about that irritating mortal. How blissful she must be nesting in the arms of the man she loves.

  Noctis sneered at the revolting images bombarding into his head. Surely, there was something terribly wrong with him. He could not focus on the task at hand. His thoughts scattered. His mind…his concentration… was breaking down once again.

  How much time do I have left before this madness consumes me?

  He must have his vengeance before that happens. Just a little longer. He needed to stay sane, at least until all was said and done.

  Chapter Twelve

  It appeared all of the wrinkles had been ironed out, because the Lycans released Amara to her brother. Trent stood in the middle of the room waiting for her. It had been many years since she’d last saw him, but she recognized him by his distinctive platinum hair and otherworldly blue eyes. When she said that he was the vision of Heaven itself, she didn’t exaggerate. He was every bit of Heaven – transient, intangible, and unattainable.

  You can’t forget a face like that either.

  Her mother had mentioned many times of how much Trent resembled Lucifer. Although she’d never personally met Lucifer, she’d heard that he carried an exponentially imposing aura that commanded attention and struck fear in the hearts of his enemies. Seeing Trent, it may not be rumors after all.

  “Brother!” She called out to him.

  He turned to her and gazed at her with icy cold, blue eyes. For as long as she knew him, he’d always looked like that. She knew it wasn’t because he had something against her. He’d always been a kind brother. The coldness seemed to be projected from the depth of his soul. He was missing a gear or two. There was no doubt about that.

  Amara wondered what could have happened to him that made him that way.

  “Amara...” He forced a wan smile when he saw her. “It’s good to see you.”

  She had intentions of giving him a hug, but aborted it at the last minute. Her eyes widened when he stepped forward. He dipped into his pants pocket for a lovely sapphire necklace and helped her put it on. There was a strange scent on it. Why the gift, she wondered.

  “Did you have a comfortable stay?” Trent asked.

  “Oh yes,” she nodded, “I feel like a walking piece of meat in Lycan territory, but other than that, everything is dandy.”

  “That is good to hear,” he said and then offered her a hand. “Are you ready to depart?”

  “What did the Lycan King want from you?”

  “His problem solved itself. Fate has a way with things.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “One more thing... If I get out of here, wouldn’t Noctis be able to track me down by my scent?”

  He pointed at the necklace. “There is a spell on it. As long as you have that on, he won’t be able to detect you.”

  So that’s what that was about. She almost misunderstood. Amara took the offered hand and braced herself for the transition.

  They materialized in Chevalier’s apartment and at the wrong time. A stunningly beautiful female was sitting on his lap, kissing him deeply. The waterfall of her long platinum hair cascaded over her small frame. Noticing their presence, she broke the kiss and slightly turned to their direction. Her dark lashes sensually lifted to reveal a pair of drop dead gorgeous, pale green eyes. Her lips, swollen red from the kiss, curled upward as if she wanted to display a smile.

  The air was filled with a faint tantalizing scent that could have easily gone unnoticed.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Amara gasped. “We’ll come back later…”

  Trent released her hand and walked past her. He marched to the couple and yanked the female away from
Chevalier, whom sat like a statue. His movements were slow. His eyes were lifeless, like he was in some sort of trance.

  Trent removed the champagne bottle from the ice bucket sitting on the coffee table and dumped the ice water over Chevalier’s head. Chevalier shook his head violently and bolted up.

  “What the hell!” Chevalier bellowed. His fingers jabbed into his thick, dark hair to shake the ice cubes off. “That’s cold, Trent.”

  Ignoring Chevalier, Trent turned to the girl. He tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her closer to him. “Not. Him.” The words came out low, deep, and aggressive – an obvious warning.

  “What did she do this time?” Chevalier asked, completely clueless. When Trent did not provide and answer, he turned to Amara.

  Amara unconsciously sucked on her lower lip and then broke into a smile. “You two were making out when we arrived,” Amara answered honestly.

  Chevalier blinked. His expression immediately took a turn for the worst. He sharply turned to the girl, at Trent, and then his eyes focused inward as if he was looking at himself.

  “My god…” he murmured, looking like he had just tasted something bitter. His attention immediately turned to his clothing, and a sigh of relief escaped him when he found everything was where it should be. “My god…” This time, Amara caught the relief in his voice. He jabbed his fingers into his hair once again. Anger abruptly smoldered in his golden eyes.

  Tensions were building up in the atmosphere.

  Amara turned her attention to Trent, who looked as though he was going to murder the girl. He raised his hand in the air and the girl lifted her chin an inch higher to provoke him to strike her. Trent inhaled a deep breath, his fingers curled into a fist, and returned to his side.

  Chevalier shoved Trent out of the way and grabbed the girl by the shoulders. He shook her violently. “You’ve crossed the line, Nala!” Chevalier roared. Amara had never seen him so angry.

  Nala reached up to cup his face. Her thumb brushed by his lower lip. “You liked it.”