The Dark God's Bride Trilogy, #3 (2 page)

“Look what the cat dragged in,” the woman sitting next to her ridiculed. 

The mask that
Noctis had taken from the table at the entrance of the ballroom was aiding him in his attempts to conceal his face. He did not wish to be seen or harbor any unwanted attention. The place was crawling with every immortal he had ever come across, and from the look of it, more of them were enemies than they were friends. Apparently, Lysander the Wicked had enough power and influence to command their attendance for his Queen’s birthday party. Artemis Herald was known for her extravagance and unsurprisingly, every inch of the venue was over-lavish and unnecessary.

He surveyed the room many times over, but he could not find his bride among the immortals. He sensed that she was close by, but it was difficult to pinpoint her exact location with so many different scents circulating the air. His eyes reverted back to the entrance, and it was then he saw his bride entering. She wore a ruby red gown that hung from her left shoulder and was
fastened with a bejeweled belt just below her voluptuous breasts. The fabric of the gown was clinging tantalizingly to the enticing curves of her body. Her lush dark hair was much longer, and it hadn’t lost that hypnotic midnight sheen. She wore a bold expression on her face which appeared as though she was heading out for battle. He looked around, saw that every eye in the room was preying on her, and understood. These immortals could smell fear. If his bride showed the slightest bit of anxiety, they would eat her alive. Knowing his cheeky bride, she would never give them the satisfaction of seeing a shaky little mortal fearing for her life however she may actually feel.

She suddenly paused and turned her head to her left. When their eyes met, he thought she saw through his disguise. She lingered for the briefest moment, subtly shook her head from her suspicion, and continued to the other side of the room. There she seated herself at the sitting area with three other women who were there before her. The women did not appear pleased; they voiced their objection immediately. Firstly, they interrogated
her about her invitation and then had the gall to call his bride a liar when she answered that she was personally invited by ‘the birthday girl’. His bride did not seem to be bothered by the accusation and coolly explained her friendship with Artemis. She was treating them with more civility than the three hags truly deserved.

Noctis observed with growing irritation as the scene escalated to open conflict. He was no longer the only observer. The immortals were waiting for an entertaining treat and his bride seem to be providing just the stuff. She was still holding up a cool visage.
Enough
, he decided. He didn’t want to make his return known but now it seemed he didn’t have a choice. If his bride extended her stay any longer, things could turn physical. As much as he admired her strong and more than often stubborn spirit, he couldn’t deny the sad truth that had always been a source of his worries. She was vulnerable.

His prediction became fully realized as soon as the thought passed through his head. The three hags revealed sharp fangs when their upper lips retracted into spiteful sneers. His bride sensed an oncoming attack and rolled backward just as the woman in the middle raised her arms and lashed through the space where his bride was standing only half a second before. It was sheer luck that she had gotten away and he highly doubted that she would get lucky again. Just as he was about to interfere, his bride summoned up a protective barrier around herself. The two other females couldn’t get through the barrier no matter how madly they slash
ed at it. His bride was mumbling something quick and inaudible. Her friend, Dimitri, stepped out from the crowd and volunteered his help, but she waved a hand to signal him to back down. She wanted to handle this alone.

What is she trying to do?
He lingered in a moment of indecisiveness.

Rationally, he knew there was no possible way she could fight this alone, but if he interfered when she didn’t want help
, it would be an insult to her. His brother, Liven, had once beaten him near death because Noctis had defended him from an enemy in a battle to the death when he was specifically asked not to. His brother would rather die a warrior in that battle than receive outside help. His bride had the pride of a warrior, but could he and would he risk seeing her harmed just to see her pride uninjured? Noctis curled his hands into tight fists. He didn’t want to see her harmed mentally or physically. For now, he would let her fight her own battle, but he swore he would put an end to this confrontation at the first sign of mortal danger. He would take her home in one piece, intact pride or not.

The incantation she was mumbling was a summoning spell. He couldn’t say that he approved. He had asked her to abandon it once before, but it appeared that she hadn’t taken his warning to heart. The art of summoning
was a unique set of skills that was almost always exclusively practiced by demons and Necromancers. The art required the summoner to open a gate between this world and the next, something very few individuals could undertake. It was a grey area, a fine line between art and abomination, and it wasn’t too far off from necromancy. If she couldn’t control the things that she had called forth, her life was as good as forfeit. He couldn’t say he approved at all.

“Enough!”
came a voice, as loud as thunder and mighty as a roar of Lysander Wolfram. He was the indisputable King of the Lycans. He was a man who could measure up to Noctis by the centimeters. His command brought everything to a complete halt. Amara stopped the summoning before it could be completed. Lysander calmly positioned himself between Amara and the other three women with a presence that silently challenged any protest. There was none.

The Lycan King turned to Amara and extended his welcome toward her. “Artemis was worried that you wouldn’t come, Amara.”

“She
insisted
,” Amara said with a light shrug. “Bunny always gets things her way, one way or another.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “Shall I escort you to find her?”

“If you would tell her that I came, that would be good too. I’m coming down with a brutal headache. I think… I think I ought to leave. Bunny would understand. I’m sure she would.” She retrieved a small blue gift box from her clutch bag and handed it over to the Lycan King. “Give Bunny this for me.”

The Lycan King nodded. “I’ll have Dimitri escort you home.”

“It’s fine. Let D enjoy himself.” She respectfully bowed her head and then turned.

As she headed for the exit, Noctis sensed a shadow slipped through the wall of the room. Only a few people seemed to notice. The massive chandelier hanging in the middle of the domed room was starting to move on its own just as his bride was passing
underneath.

The crystals
hanging from the massive chandelier above her were chiming against one another, catching her attention. Amara looked up, wide eyed and helpless when the chandelier dropped from its place. She heard Artemis cry out in horror. She quickly ducked to the floor, slammed her eyes shut, hands instinctually defending her face from the sharp shards. They would pierce through her. It was only simple physics. Of all the deaths she had imagined for herself, never had a fallen chandelier occurred to her.

Amara slowly opened her eyes after a long still moment. If she had died, she was glad she didn’t feel any pain. But it was not so. The crystal chandelier was suspend
ed picture-still above her, its sharp shards only mere centimeters from the surface of her skin. Too stunned to move, she laid still on the floor while the immortals stared with the same incredulity.

She heard very light footsteps echoing toward her amidst
the unusually quiet atmosphere. Slowly, she turned her head. Her lower lip was still trembling from the fright. Her eyes traveled up the length of him, but before she could see his face, he bent down to collect her from the floor.

She had her suspicions, but it was his scent that she recognized almost immediately. Amara didn’t dare to look up. If she did, he would disappear like he so often did in her dreams. So she stayed quiet just to feel him close a moment longer before the alarm clock put her back to her own bed.

After he set her firmly on her feet, he moved past her. Then, she heard the women screaming in pure horror. Amara couldn’t help but look up then. She saw him holding up his arm. Piercing blue eyes flickered dangerously. His powers sent two of the women across the room and directly to the floor. His eyes then turned to the remaining woman who was frantically looking behind her for an escape. Even if the witch did deserve it, Amara still couldn’t stand idly by and watch. She leaped at his arm and pulled him back. He turned to her, their eyes met for the first time in years.

Even through the mask, she knew who he was. His six-foot-five frame, his scent, in combination with the blue of his eyes
, couldn’t belong to anyone else. Still, she needed to be sure. Her shaking fingers reached for the mask on his face and slowly removed it. She felt her guts being tied in knots. His confession the last time they saw each other rang in her ears and brought a bright blush to her cheeks.

He returned his attention to the crowd. He then moved again,
in very slow and graceful steps that forced the immortals to back off, even if it were only by an inch or two. They recognized him. Three years hadn’t been nearly long enough for them to forget who and what he was.

“No,” she whispered with a light shake of
her head. The stern look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t done. “Home,” she said very softly. “I want to go home.”

He turned his gaze to the three women who were staring back at him in absolute fright. He shot them a warning glare, got his message across, and did as Amara asked of him.

He swept her off her feet as though he thought she wasn’t capable of walking and carried her out of the ballroom and out of the private mansion. No one said a word to stop him.

He did not teleport them both home like he usually
did. Instead, he took her home in the cab waiting outside the gate. She would have thought he had lost his powers if it weren’t for the demonstration earlier. Was he being considerate of her because he knew she would have a terrible headache if they were to teleport?

It was hard to think of him as a considerate person. It was very hard.

They were home and in their bedroom sooner than she realized it. She was staring at him the entire ride home as though he was still a part of her dream. He had been gone such a long time that she had almost fictionalized him as part of her imagination.

He let her down on the soft bed. She propped her head on one arm and watched him move around the room. He was scrutinizing around the place to see what had changed.

She hadn’t changed anything in the bedroom since he left. Everything was as it had been except for the new bedding and pillows. Finally, he turned to her. She gave him a small smile, but didn’t know what to say. She should have asked him how he escaped his time trap, but the answer didn’t seem to matter that much to her. He was here now. He was in their bedroom.

She wasn’t used to him being so quiet either. For several moments, he didn’t speak. He came closer to her;
his hand tilted her chin and turned her head to the side. It was then that she noticed that it was stinging. Her left hand covered the area and then brought it in front of her. There was a small amount of blood on her fingertips. A loose shard must have grazed her skin. She was probably too panicked to realize it when it happened.

“I… err… I’ll go get a Band-Aid.”

Before she could get up, his powerful frame came over hers. Her heart was hammering inside her chest when he lowered his mouth to her neck. She hissed a breath when his lips came in contact with her skin. It has been so long since they’ve been intimate that his touch felt so excitingly strange to her. Amara closed her eyes and sank back with a sigh.

Lost
, she thought,
so lost.

“Have you brought another man into our bed in my absence?” His voice was rough against her ear.

Amara lifted her dark lashes and stared into his fierce blue eyes. They were questioning her, interrogating her. She didn’t want to answer him. Not because she would anger him if she admitted that she did, but because she would be angry with herself if she admitted to him that she didn’t. She was afraid that he would ask why. She didn’t want to tell him why.

“No,” she whispered the truth; her lower lip trembled as she spoke. She prayed silently that he would not question her further.

“I believe you.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that. Not straight away. There was no question in his mind? No doubt at all?

He lowered his head and fully claimed her mouth with a possessive kiss. He had no idea how much she missed the taste of him. How many times she had fantasized that he would kiss her this way again. How many times she had fantasized about kissing him.

And now she could. She would.

Amara wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. It felt necessary, so necessary that she pulled herself up against him to have him even closer, to kiss him even deeper. In the beginning, there was raw chemistry. And now… and now… there was more.

The baby’s cry startled them both.