“Is that so?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Then I suggest,” Azriel said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward him, “you get on your hands and knees and let me indulge in you again.”
Chapter 30
When Emillie had traveled from Algorath to Monsumbra, she had the distinct impression that it took entirely too long to get every one in their company moving each night. In fact, she recalled once complaining to Revelie about just how much time was wasted each evening when attempting to corral everyone and guide them in the correct direction. If she could revisit those moments with the knowledge she now had in regards to moving an entire army, she would apologize to Phulan and every one of those Algorathian prisoners for the nightly struggle to now move from Monsumbra to Central Province was, if possible, even more exhausting.
Riding her horse between Luce in her lycan form and Revelie, who now bore a small symbol of Keon on the back of her neck, Emillie bit back her frustrations at being held up by the agonizingly slow pace. She was grateful for her friend’s presence to keep her mind occupied during the moments in which they crawled along the highway leading to their destination.
“What is it like?” Emillie asked as they paused yet again for someone near the front of their procession to regain their tempo.
Revelie gave a start at the sudden question and tilted her head. “To what are you referring?”
“The bond.” Emillie resisted the urge to look at Luce despite her partner’s keen gold eyes swinging in their direction at the inquiry.
“Oh!” Revelie touched the tattoo hidden beneath her braids absentmindedly before a calm smile stretched her lips. “I was not certain I would understand it, to be quite honest. In fact, I did not believe it to be possible for anyone not of fae descent.”
It took every ounce of Emillie’s self-control to not dive into that particular theory of hers. She bit back the words detailing what she believed to be ancient fae blood that ran through the veins of every vampire. Instead, she said, “You seemed quite smitten with Jakhov before the ritual. Did it change anything?”
Cheeks flushing, Revelie’s gaze snapped to where the aforementioned dhemon flew atop his dragon overhead. The ease in which she located him without question was uncanny, what with all the others of various sizes swooping to and fro through the night sky.
“I believe it changed…everything.” Revelie’s brows creased in thought. “It is as though I can…” Her words trailed away as she considered what to say next. Only after shaking her head with a scoff did she continue. “It is as though I canfeelhim inside me.”
Emillie raised her brows at that.
“It sounds as though I have lost my mind!” Revelie laughed. “But it is the only way I can describe the sensation: as though he and I are one.”
Another round of holding back the need to look at her partner, Emillie chewed the inside of her cheek. “Did the two of you…” Now it was her turn for her thought to remain unfinished and for the heat to rise to her face. “You do not have to say—”
But Revelie laughed. “If you believe for one moment that I am not accustomed to questions such as that from Camilla, you have not been paying attention when we have tea.”
In all honesty, Emillie would not have been surprised if shedidmiss such personal inquiries from Camilla. It was typically around the time that their friend brought up anything of the sort that she chose to think of other things. For far too long, Emillie believed herself to be too critical and analytical to ever find herself quite as sexual as she had become thanks to Kyra, then Luce. Now she realized she was very similar to Camilla. Where her friend sought pleasure in whoever caught her fancy for the night, Emillie knew precisely where to find it.
These days, she found it by being strung up by Luce where she relinquished all control.
Rather than be embarrassed by her own sudden prudishness, Emillie joined the laughter. “Alright, then. Have you and Jakhov…explored further?”
Still grinning, Revelie shook her head. “Not yet. I think it is a lot for him, as it is for me.”
“I admit I am surprised by that.” Emillie stretched her neck to peer towards the front of the procession where she knew Ariadne and Azriel to be. “Azriel had no qualms about his bond, it seemed.”
The other Caersan hummed. “True. But I have been told that bonds are very different between each person. Some are consumed by them, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Azriel falls under that category.”
Emillie snorted. “I must agree with that.”
Indeed, Azriel’s relationship with Ariadne was vastly different from Luce’s with Emillie. While she had learned that the dhemons’ lack of connection to the Underworld prevented them from maintaining a true link with their mates, which caused anything from memory loss to aggression to downrightmadness, Luce never seemed to struggle in quite the same way despite Emillie not yet reciprocating the bond. Even from dhemon to dhemon seemed oddly different. Azriel and Ehrun succumbed to the darkest part of themselves while others found a way to cling to their sanity.
“Why is it so much for Jakhov?” Emillie pressed, not wanting to explore the possibility of what could happen to Luce, given their potential separation.
“Well,” Revelie said, stretching out the singular syllable for emphasis, “I spoke to Phulan about it, and she claims that, of all the dhemons close to Azriel, he is quite possibly the one who hates vampires the most.”
This struck Emillie as odd. Though she knew they had all once viciously fought against Valenul, going so far as to be the cause of the raids and destruction in Eastwood Province, she had thought that anyone who continued to hold such hatred would have gone with Ehrun. Then again, she was new to the politics amongst the dhemons and could not make sense of most of it just yet.
Before she thought it through, Emillie blurted, “Why does he hate us?”
Revelie’s brows flew towards the sky. “For the same reason we hated them for so long.”
