Chapter 16

16

I wake up in the middle of the night. The room is dark and foreign, and for a moment, panic swells in my breast. I immediately reach for my baby, but the place next to me is empty.

"PomPom?" I ask in a low voice.

She doesn't answer me. BonBon doesn't either.

I strain to look around the room. Nykander is not here either. He'd gone to sleep on the floor as he declared, but the blankets where he slept are an empty mess.

Where did he go? Where did the dogs go?

I swing my legs over the bed, carefully making my way around the cabin without hitting anything. But I don't need to go outside to search for them. Not when the small window leads directly to a backyard where Nykander is hanging out with the dogs.

"No. It is not the time to play around, PomPom," he says in a low voice as he waves his finger at PomPom. She runs around him excitedly while BonBon is going potty a small distance away. "Come on. It is your turn, PomPom," he instructs her, but she doesn't seem to listen.

BonBon finishes his business and joins her as they both run around him. I expect him to get annoyed. PomPom doesn't listen to anyone but me. Yet as I silently continue to watch them, Nykander drops to his knees to pet the two dogs. A genuine smile appears on his face as he tentatively tries to play with them.

The dim light from the moon illuminates his face and makes my heart still in my chest.

The dogs jump on him at the same time, making him lose his balance and fall on his back. His laughter fills my ears as he lets them lick him and sniff his face. Every now and then he encourages them, giving them a light pat or scratching their bellies.

Eventually, with enough coaxing, he gets PomPom to potty, all the while giving her words of praise.

"That's a good girl," he murmurs, scratching her behind her ears. BonBon jumps around, wanting to be praised too, so Nykander gives him attention and calls him a good boy.

Moisture clings to my lashes as I stare at them.

I want to be a good girl too— his good girl.

Damn it. Why does he have to be so awfully attractive? And why is he so kind to my dogs, making my heart leap in my chest at the smallest interaction?

Once the dogs have done their business, he takes them back to the cabin.

When he opens the door, he doesn't seem surprised to see me—of course he doesn't. He has super hearing.

He gives me a tentative smile. "They wanted to go out."

"You should have woken me up."

He shakes his head. "You were sleeping."

That's all he says as he resumes his place between the covers on the floor, but somehow it's enough to make me ache like crazy for the same attention my dogs got.

Isn't that pathetic? I am now jealous of my dogs!

I muster a smile.

"Good night, then."

He grunts a reply, but it's clear he's not inclined to make conversation with me.

With a heavy heart, I join my babies on the bed and will myself to sleep. Mentally, I count down the days until we can get that artifact and find someone to break our bond. Because until then…I fear my heart is in too much danger in his presence.

The following day, we wake up in the morning and make our way to the village. Jeya appears by our side and tells us the village works as a commune, which means that everyone must participate in an activity. Every morning, there is an event called the drawing , in which every member of the commune draws a ticket that lists an activity. Since Nykander and I are considered a pair, we only get one draw.

Nykander mutters something under his breath about meeting the High Priestess sooner, which I would normally agree with, but in this instance, I don't want us to be seen as ungrateful or rude.

I elbow him and tell him to cut it out while I plaster a smile on my face for Jeya. Alas, that seems to get Nykander even more rude.

"I know you have been imprisoned for a long time, but you need to mind your manners. These people have graciously allowed us to stay here. You won't help our cause by being rude."

He glares at me.

I roll my eyes.

"We are here to speak with the High Priestess, not engage in frivolous activities," he declares, rather loudly.

People stop what they're doing to stare at him, some even muttering a few admonishments under their breaths.

"You do realize that by being a boor you won't get the High Priestess's favor. You need her to tell you where the artifact is."

A mutinous expression appears on Nykander's face.

"I know you don't want to do this. I don't either. I mean, there's nothing in it for me except getting rid of this bond faster."

"Fine," he grumbles.

The entire village is gathered together in front of a bucket holding a multitude of pieces of paper. Families and couples form one group while children over the age of twelve are on their own. One by one, they go and pick one, which designates their activity for the day. Since Nykander doesn't seem inclined to play by their rules, I head forward and stick my hand in the bucket, rummaging through the pieces of paper and drawing one.

I read the text.

"We are on laundry duty," I tell Nykander.

He scoffs.

Jeya appears by my side as he peeks at my note.

"I will show you to the laundry room to pick up the garments."

"You don't have washing machines by any chance?" I ask as he leads us to one of the main buildings in the village.

"What?" He frowns.

"Yeah, I figured," I mutter. "So how are we supposed to wash them?"

"By hand, of course. The river is at the edge of the village. Since this is a daily task, there will not be that many clothes to wash. Do not worry," he assures me.

"Not so happy about this now, are you?" Nykander murmurs in amusement as he sees me scowl.

"I can wash by hand," I fire back at him. "Can you?" I raise a brow at him. " Without using your powers."

His eyes narrow at me.

"Are you sure you want to turn this into a competition?"

"Bring it on, oh Dark One," I mock him.

"It is on," he declares confidently as he crosses his arms across his chest.

"You need to be done by noon," Jeya tells us as we enter the laundry room. He gives us a few instructions before he leaves to take care of his own tasks.

Nykander and I stare at all the clothes we have to wash. Jeya said there wouldn't be much, but this room is full from floor to ceiling with dirty clothes.

But just as we think we're going to have our work cut out for us, more villagers come to the laundry room to deposit their dirty clothes. One after another, it's almost like the entire village suddenly decided they have clothes in need of washing.

"They did this on purpose, didn't they?" I mutter numbly.

Nykander purses his lips and nods.

"Maybe I can allow for your abilities just once—to transport the clothes to the river."

He slowly turns to look at me, his brow raised, his lips curved in a lopsided smile.

"We shall have to locate the river first. I will then bring all the items."

For the first journey, we both get an armful of clothes as we traverse the village. PomPom and BonBon are following behind, getting the first dose of exercise of the day.

Despite the fact that it feels as if the villagers had purposefully given us a heavy workload, everyone is hard at work. There are people cooking, cleaning, and tending to small children. Every task required for the optimal working of the village is accounted for, and I can't help but admire how well they do it.

"Where do you think these people are from?" I ask Nykander as we pass around families doing their tasks together.

He shakes his head.

"I am not sure. But most people here have abilities."

I frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I can feel the energy simmering around. It is strong and heavy, but it does not come from one individual in particular, which leads me to believe it is the energy of the collective."

"Oh. I wonder why they would choose to live so cut off from the world."

His smile turns sad.

"Because it might be the only way they can be at peace," he says. I glance at him curiously as I wait for him to continue. "I have traveled to many worlds since I left Tartareia seven thousand years ago. And while some realms celebrate those who exhibit strong spiritual energy and extraordinary abilities, most do not. The number of human mortals far outweighs the number of supernatural ones, and that establishes a norm within a population. To deviate from that norm means to be ostracized. Sometimes hunted…killed. The world is not a safe place when you are different."

"But why is the number of supernaturals so low? Wouldn't it be the reverse? I would assume that humans can die far more easily than supernaturals, no? That would decrease their numbers while those of supernaturals would keep on climbing."

"In theory, yes." He nods pensively. "But there are those factors I mentioned. Supernaturals are hunted, sometimes even seen as prizes. But that is not the only reason for their scarcity. It is also the fact that the stronger the spiritual energy of a species, the lower the birth rate. For example, my kind is considered mature at three thousand years old. It is very rare for a female to bear a second child before the first one has reached at least one thousand years old."

I stare at him in wonder.

"Wow. That is so interesting. I guess it's similar to apes in my world," I mention thoughtfully. "Gorillas are endangered because of their low birth rates. They only bear one child at a time and it is very rare to have a second one before the first is weaned. And because humans keep encroaching on their territories, they are now susceptible to some of our diseases too."

"Yes." He nods. "That is, indeed, a good analogy. I have noticed this in the realms I have visited, too. Some diseases that were previously only encountered in humans have now spread to supernaturals, too. But due to a different biology, the effects are far more dire," he adds. "It makes me wonder how the plague in Akkaya manifests in humans and supernaturals alike."

"I can't say about supernaturals, but I saw how it manifested in humans. It was grotesque." A shiver goes down my back as I remember the first time I came face-to-face with death. I recount my experience and what I witnessed in the village the soldiers burned down.

He listens thoughtfully to my explanation, and before I know it, we have reached the river.

"This is…beautiful," I whisper as I take in the landscape.

The water of the river is a see-through crystalline blue. A few feet away, there is a waterfall coming from the mountain that feeds into the river, the water splashing onto the river bank.

I drop the load of clothes to the ground as I dash toward the water, taking off my slippers as I run. Plopping myself on the lush grass, I dip my fingers into the cold water and release a loud squeak of excitement.

"Come try it, Nykander! It's so cool and refreshing!"

He regards me with an amused expression as he shakes his head. Instead, he drops his load to the ground before he teleports to the laundry room to bring the remaining clothes. PomPom and BonBon run around and play, and it seems I won't have to worry about them for the time being—except watching to make sure they don't eat some weird plant.

It takes Nykander a couple of trips to get everything. What's even worse is that these people don't even have liquid soap. They only have a lye-based solid soap that people in my world used long ago—and some might still use in the countryside. But that means we will have to scrub the clothes by hand with the soap.

My expression falls as I look at the mountain of clothes. It will take us the entire day! Maybe more!

As Nykander comes toward me, I look up at him, batting my lashes.

"Can't you use your powers and you know, do some magic?"

He chuckles.

"We convened I would not use my powers."

"That was before I saw how many clothes there were! We're never going to finish this!"

"Then we might as well start."

He surprises me when he unbuttons his shirt and throws it aside. His naked torso greets my eyes, our bonding mark there in the open for anyone to see. Somehow, knowing that I have a claim on him—a visible one—makes my insides all restless. I cannot wrench my eyes away from his hard chest and even harder abs.

"Barbi!" Nykander calls my name, shaking me from my reverie.

"W-what?" I stumble over my words as I bring my hand to my mouth, wiping it. I'm pretty sure I was drooling. And the devil knows it, going by his smirk.

"Get to work." He winks at me.

Stooping down, he folds his pants to his knees. He grabs an armful of clothes and places them on the bank next to him before he steps into the river. He visibly shudders at the contact with the cold water, but he wastes no time in starting on his task. The soap is in his right hand while he holds the garments in his left one, scrubbing intently.

I'm still frozen to the spot, unable to look away from him. Minutes pass and the sunlight shines on his skin. Drops of water splash onto his torso, slowly dripping down his hard abs.

I bite my lip.

What I wouldn't give to be one of those drops. She's so lucky, damn her!

"Barbi, I am almost done with my first load and you have not even started," he mentions, once more catching me staring.

My cheeks heat up and I feel like the biggest fool.

"Right. I'll get to it now," I mumble.

My dress is long, but I can't roll it up like Nykander did with his pants. Instead, I knot a corner and make it shorter. Grabbing an armful of clothes, I place them next to me and get to work.

By the time I'm halfway through my load, Nykander is already done with his and moving to the next.

I grumble something under my breath and push myself harder. My competitive side rears its ugly head as I see the ease with which Nykander washes the clothes while I'm out of breath after one scrub and a half.

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You are cheating. You're using your powers, aren't you?"

He turns to me, a bored look on his face. He gazes at the load I've done so far and sniggers.

"You wanted a competition."

Then he's back to work.

My nostrils flare as I think of all the possible ways I can catch up to him. I glance back at the remaining clothes and an idea comes into my mind. Well, it might not be a great idea, but it is an idea.

I unknot my dress and step farther into the river until the water reaches past my knees. I fold the skirt around the corners into a makeshift basin and let water creep inside. Taking all the clothes, I plop them inside my skirt and I add soap, spending a few minutes scrubbing it against the material. The water in my skirt is all soapy and it helps to wash all the clothes at once.

This speeds up my process and my excitement soars as I get my first load done. I quickly go on to the next.

Nykander looks at me, his lips quirking up in amusement.

"You are inventive, I will give you that."

"Of course," I huff, scrubbing some more. "I will not lose."

"I did not realize you had such a competitive streak, Barbi," he mentions, his eyes twinkling.

The light hits his eyes at the perfect angle to emphasize that beautiful shade of gray.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Damn my treacherous heart! Why does it have to be so weak in front of a pair of beautiful eyes?

"Why enter a competition at all if not to win?" I raise a brow at him as I try to divert my attention from his otherworldly appeal.

"Some might say the journey in itself is worth it."

"I don't see how washing clothes might be a worthy endeavor," I grumble.

"Because patience is not your strongest suit, is it, Barbi?"

"Well… I suppose so," I mutter under my breath.

He smiles, and we're both silent for a moment before he speaks again.

"How did you know the answer to those riddles?" His voice is no longer playful or teasing, a dangerous gleam entering his gaze as he stops what he's doing and turns to me.

"The same way I knew about the flower. From my books."

"Those books again?" He frowns.

"Maybe now you will believe me. I really did read books about Akkaya and they contained all those riddles, together with the answers. It was all part of the lore of Akkaya. The loza is an ancient traditional Akkayan weapon. Mazu is the mythological river that surrounds the whole of Akkaya, and P'asala is?—"

"The intermediary realm all souls cross to reach the afterlife."

"You know about that?" I blink.

"I did not know about the first two, nor have I ever heard about them, which is odd considering I have been in Akkaya for long enough to know its entire history. As far as P'asala goes, that is the intermediary realm under the control of Aperion. It is a long road all souls must cross before their merits are weighed and they are sent to the appropriate level of the House of Psyche in Aperion."

"What?" I blurt out. Either I am dumb or he's speaking in terms I've never heard about. "I did not understand anything of what you were saying."

"Your concept of hell and heaven. The House of Psyche houses levels that would technically qualify as your understanding of heaven or hell."

"Oh." I nod. "But why would hell belong to Aperion? Shouldn't it be in Tartareia? After all, you said the Sons of Tenebreis were the descendants of the Seven Primordial dark gods."

Nykander smiles.

"You're clever."

My eyes widen at his compliment just as a deep blush stains my cheeks.

"Oh, thank you?—"

"That was the initial design of the afterlife according to the treaty between the light, nether, and dark gods. There was heaven, where the souls of good mortals went; purgatory, where the stained souls went, and lastly there was hell, where sinful souls went. Each one of the Primordial triad had control over one. But after the war, the light and nether gods fully took control of the afterlife. Tartareia was built in response to that. While Aperion is, indeed, the most common destination for souls, it is not the only one. The Sons of Tenebreis search for corrupted souls and turn them into their thralls before Aperion can send their messengers after them."

"You mean you turn them into demons."

"Correct." He nods.

"Have you ever turned a soul into a demon?"

He shakes his head ruefully.

"I was not concerned with it. I had my kiyrayà and my vocation. That was enough for me."

My brows furrow at the foreign term. But I have one more pressing curiosity.

"How come you were not in Tartareia when it got sealed off?"

His body freezes. A look of pure horror descends upon his face before he averts his gaze.

"Perhaps it was a blessing that I was not present," he murmurs, his voice far away.

I take note of his body language and I don't probe more. It seems to be a painful memory, perhaps because he was separated from his family for thousands of years—well, except his awful brother, whom PomPom, BonBon, and I have decided that we don't like.

"Tell me more about those books of yours. It is intriguing that stories about Akkaya would reach your world," he adds thoughtfully.

"No one knows who the author is. They've chosen to publish the books anonymously. But they are super popular. Even more popular than Naruto and that says something since it was a global phenomenon." I lean in closer to whisper, "Don't tell anyone, but I did have a Naruto phase, too. I imagined myself as Sakura, of course, since she eventually ends up with Sasuke and he was the hottest illustrated character to ever grace my world." My mouth widens in an O. "Sorry for the spoiler."

Nykander looks thoroughly confused.

"But that was around a decade ago." I wave my hand. "Since I first read the books on Akkaya, I became an immediate fan. I've been attending conventions and I even lead a discord based on the mage system in Akkaya where we do more role-play," I explain. I don't, however, tell him about the fact that Lady Jocelyn and Sir Damien were the main characters since I am still nursing the wound of finding out just how foul they are in real life. He doesn't need to know that Lady Jocelyn has been my role model my entire life, or that I modeled everything after her.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I berate myself again for being so foolish as to make a fictional character my entire personality. Yet despite what I know now, fictional Jocelyn did help me get through some rough patches in my life. She was there when no one else was.

"I see." He nods.

"Yes! It's the best book series! If you ever come to my world, I'll lend you my special editions to read. You should be honored, you know. I've never lent those babies to anyone, but for you, I will make an exception."

His lips tip into a smile.

"But only for you…" I trail off.

In my excitement to tell him all about my favorite book series, some garments escaped from the makeshift net I'd made with my skirt. I startle as I see them being carried away by the river, and before I can think it through, I throw myself after them, losing the others too.

"Barbi!" Nykander calls out after me.

But as I step farther into the river, my foot catches on a rock and I trip forward. But as I try to find my footing again, I realize there's a steep incline and the water is much deeper.

I fall, water flooding my mouth and nose.

But before I can panic, strong arms lift me up.

I splutter as I draw a deep breath into my lungs.

Nykander holds me in his arms, pulling me out of the water and onto the shore.

"You mad, mad creature," he mutters as he lays me on the grass.

I am drenched from head to toe. Moisture clings to my lashes, some of it dripping down my face and neck. Yet all I can do is stare at the handsome face above me. He blocks the sun with his body, looming over me.

I gulp down as I watch drops of water dance on his skin, hypnotizing me with their odd movements as they traverse those hard and delicious planes. My tongue peeks out to lick my lips.

"Are you all right, Barbi?" he asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

It takes me a moment to get my bearings together and meet his concerned gaze.

My lips strain into a smile that quickly dies as I note the grave look on his face.

He's staring at me intently, his pupils growing in size as his fangs elongate, pricking his bottom lip and causing drops of blood to fall onto my body.

"I am fine. Just a small accident." I make light of the situation.

But he doesn't reply.

His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he bites his lip hard, more blood pouring out of the new wound.

"Nykander?" I whisper.

His gaze is fixed on me, or rather, on a point on my body. I look down, following the path of his eyes, and a gasp leaves my lips as I realize what he's looking at.

My light pink dress is completely drenched. The material is a thin cotton that has become see-through.

And I'm not wearing a bra.

My nipples are hard from the coldness of the water, and they're poking through the material, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He still has not said a word, nor has he looked away from my rather nude form. And it's not just his fangs that are having a reaction to my breasts. Eyes wide, my mouth forms a shocked O as I stare at the dent in his pants. They are entirely wet, clinging to his muscular legs and emphasizing the outline of his hardness.

Oh my!

That is quite…something. A big something.

I nibble at my lips as I continue to shamelessly stare at that part of him, committing it to memory.

I've watched porn. Who hasn't? But those men weren't quite as…gifted as him in that department. And supposedly porn stars are quite well-endowed. I mean, it's a requirement for the job, no?

And if he's bigger than a porn star… Just how big is he?

I lean forward, trying to get a better look and gauge his size—for research purposes, of course. And for my dreams. Girls have wet dreams too, after all. They're just a little more…romantic? And dirty. Let's be honest. My dreams about Nykander have been dirty as hell. The amount of times he told me what a good girl I am while he's deep inside me, claiming me fully and branding me as his…

I sigh.

In my dreams only.

Unfortunately, in real life, he only tells my dog what a good girl she is.

Up close, I can make out the outline of his shaft. It's thick. I glance at my forearm. Good Lord! Those old-school romances were right! It is the size of my forearm.

A shiver of alarm goes through me.

You're a big girl, Barbi. You can take it.

The pep talk is rather useless, though, since I doubt that would happen—he's made it clear that there will be no skinship between us. But that monster in his pants certainly has other plans.

I slowly drag my gaze up, meeting his hungry one.

We stare at each other, both unmoving.

My breathing grows labored as I see the signs of desire become more pronounced on his features. He's breathing equally hard.

He leans forward, and the intensity in his gaze should scare me. The darkness of his pupils eclipse his light irises, lust and longing echoing in those beautiful depths.

He's close. So close.

His hand moves from my shoulder to my neck, then slowly descending down my collarbone until he reaches the valley of my breasts. His touch is intoxicating, so much so, my mind becomes a blank mess. He's the only thing I see. The only thing I feel. The only thing that matters right now.

He spreads his big palm over my breasts, the breadth of it almost covering my chest.

My heart thunders against my ribcage, seizing this moment as she wants to make herself known and show him just how fast she can beat. She wants him to know how hard at work she is, pumping my blood and getting me ready for him to sink his teeth into me.

Taste me.

Consume me.

Get drunk on me and let me get drunk on him in return.

His breath fans my face, a cool breeze that makes me shiver with want.

I lick my lips. This is it. Oh, God! This is it. The moment I have waited for all my life.

My first kiss.

My eyes squeeze shut as I pucker my lips, waiting for that magical moment when his lips will touch mine and fireworks will explode.

I wait.

And I wait.

But as I slowly open my eyes, I realize he's no longer on top of me.

He's a distance away, scrubbing his face with his hands as he mutters a string of curses.

"Nykander?" I tentatively call out his name.

"Do not come closer, Barbi!" he grits out, his tone harsh and full of anguish.

"Are you all right?"

"Stop!" He puts his hand up, but he doesn't look at me. He keeps his eyes closed. His chest expands as he drags a long breath into his lungs.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he bites into it.

Hard.

He's feeding on his own blood.

Worry flutters in my chest and I take a step forward.

"I can give you blood. Here," I say, extending my arm.

"Do. Not," he rasps.

"But—"

"Blood is not the only thing I will take, Barbi. Stay. Back."

Confusion swirls inside my mind as I watch him struggle with himself. Yet as the seconds trickle by, it seems the animal within is winning over the man.

He swivels.

His eyes are wholly black, his fangs long and daunting.

Blood dribbles down his chin as he comes toward me.

And if it's possible, he's even harder than before…

"Barbi…" he groans, as if with each step he takes, his pain intensifies.

I open myself wider to him, tilting my head and offering him my neck.

His eyes flash with desire. So much desire I want to drown in it and never resurface again. But I want him to drown with me. Because my own eyes echo the same desire. So much so, it burns my insides until I become a slave to these foreign and all-encompassing sensations.

Only a few steps separate us. A few steps, but they feel like worlds apart.

"Come," I whisper, beckoning him to me.

He stares at me hungrily. He's like a ravenous wild bear coming out of hibernation.

"Come to me," I whisper again.

He grinds his jaw, his fists clenching by his sides.

"Fuck," he curses before teleporting himself out of sight.