And from the way that they did continue working—with only momentary pauses toward me—I believed him.
I swallowed roughly. The front of my tunic was hanging in two separate pieces and he pushed them both aside, revealing the full expanse of my upper torso, everything above my breasts. I could see it in his eyes. He was growing impatient. His energy had changed. The lust was consuming him, and he was starting to remind me more of the others—of the akadim that couldn’t think, couldn’t use reason.
“Rhyan,” I said, my voice pleading. “What about the rules? What about what Morgana said. No rape.”
He made a noise low in his throat and slowly shook his head. “It wouldn’t be like that between us. It never has been.”
“It would if I said no,” I gritted, working the thread more quickly.
“Then don’t say no. Say yes. You think I don’t remember our last night together? How many times I plunged inside you, how many times I made you come.” Shit. Shit. More threads snapped.
“But the others,” I said, looking behind him. “They can see us.”
“Let them watch,” he said, his fangs skittering across my collarbone. “Let them see me take you. Let them all know you belong to me. I could never claim you before publicly, and I hated it. I hated that I had to stay in the shadows, and keep our love a secret. And then I had to watch as Tristan and Viktor and Kane put their paws all over you, put their claims on you while I had to hide. Well, I’m not hiding anymore.”
I tugged on the rope behind me, loosening another thread, and then another. He bent his head down toward me. Fuck. His tongue was on my collarbone.
I was breathing heavily in a way I hadn’t expected. My body had been starving for his, desperate, and dying for his touch. But this wasn’t it. This wasn’t him. Wasn’t Rhyan. It wasn’t even really his body—but a distortion of it. A mangled twisted joke of what he was.
But yet, my body didn’t seem to know that. I was afraid, my body sensed the akadim behind Rhyan, and yet, as dangerous as he was, his touches were igniting a fire inside of me. By the Gods, I didn’t want this to happen. But I couldn’t stop reacting.
I squeezed my eyes shut, and tugged again. And finally, finally, I felt my shoulders shift. They were sore and numb, but they moved away from the taut position they’d been forced into. My arms tingled as blood flowed freely through them, reaching out toward my fingertips.
“You want me, Lyr,” he said. “Admit it. I can smell it.”
“Not like this. Not when you’re akadim. It’s just my body reacting. It’s confused.”
“Are you sure it’s your body that’s confused?” he asked, his claws tangling in my hair. “I think it’s your mind. Not ready to accept this. To accept us. We can still be together, Lyr. We can be together for real this time. Forever.”
My mind flashed to Auriel, to his explanation of the Celestial Realms. An eternity together in these forms, even as we expanded, even as our souls continued to reincarnate, to live more lives, to fall in love again and again. We’d wake up in new bodies, find ourselves with new faces, new names, but we’d always recognize each other, always feel our soul connection. We’d always remain Rhyan and Lyr. Because we were Auriel and Asherah. Because we weremekarim.
Unless I couldn’t save him. Unless I couldn’t bring his soul back from the in-between and let him heal. But I wanted more. I wanted our life, this one. Mine and his.
“Rhyan—no! There’s another way.”
He laughed. “You’re lying. You want this. And you know how I know?” He traced his hand down my stomach to my waist. I snapped my feet together, and pushed my hips back, dodging his touch. “You’re wet for me. You always were.”
“Maybe I am,” I snapped. “But it’s not for you. It will never be for you. My mind is not confused! Because Rhyan—the Rhyan I know—would never do this to me. Would never touch me when I said no. I know what you are. And you are not him,” I growled, hiding the sound of another thread tearing, the rope loosening further.
He grabbed me, pulling me close, his hand reaching between my legs as he pushed me back against the wall.
Not knowing what else to do, I spat in his face.
He only grinned, and licked my spit with his tongue. “Mmmmm. I miss the taste of you.”
My heart began to pound so loudly in my ears it was all I could hear, a steady beating rhythm. I hissed, my fingers moving rapidly. Another thread in the rope had come loose and I had to make an effort to keep my shoulders back, to keep my arms still so he didn’t notice.
“You’ll put the others in a frenzy,” I pleaded, trying to find any sort of delay. “You saw how they reacted already. How many more will you have to kill? It’ll delay your work. Lessen the numbers of your soturi. Your power. You won’t finish in time for Morgana to return.” I pressed myself back, using the rough-hewn stone of the wall to my advantage, to further tear and weaken my ropes. My fingers were getting scraped up, my arms. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I just had to get free.
“I’ll control them,” he said. “And the work will finish.” His eyes flashed, and he tongued his fangs, sharp and glistening.
“I’ll take you when I want, how I want. And I’ll make you scream like you’ve never screamed before.” His hand reached for my tunic, ready to tear it apart. Tear it off. It was the final straw. Rhyan knew—knew how much I hated this. How much it upset me, having my clothing torn, removed.
This was it. No more chances. I had to act now—or never.
I chanted under my breath.
“Ani petrovaRakashonim, me ka el lyrotz, dhame ra shukroya, aniam anam. Chayate me el ra shukroya. Ani petrova Rakashonim!”
