When I shift to lie down, I find a small cloth with something, round and slightly pliant. The second I pick it up, the smell of bread fills my nose, and hunger takes over my thoughts. Pressing it between my hands, the smell grows stronger, followed by a delightful crackle.
Logically, I assume that the women brought it for me. When I don’t smell the sourness of poison, I tear off bits and pieces and stuff them into my mouth. The loaf isn’t large, but my stomach hurts when I’m done.
With a bit of food in me, the ache in my stomach subsides. Unfortunately for me, I’m stuck in a dizzy headache. Fragments of memories swirl, and I close my eyes, helpless but to watch them pass.
One in particular is clearer than the rest.
“A human queen will bring the light of hope
To those in the shadows, forgotten and alone
The strength and courage of a noble soul
Will be the catalyst for a new tomorrow”
I recognize it, mainly from the voice that speaks the words. Liana. Even thinking her name brings me more peace and easesthe dizzying throb behind my eye sockets. She spent so many days alongside me, teaching me how to use my magic and how to be something more than I was. Her stern expressions and gentle hands helped me change.
Dissecting the bits of her poetic song, I consider each line. Certain words stick out to me: hope, catalyst, shadows, alone. I realize… that Zlosian slaves live in the shadows, mostly alone. We don’t congregate as friends. We don’t hold onto ceremonies or traditions.
I just came from a place that was a dream compared to life here. I hate Zlosa, but so does everyone else. Mikal shouldn’t be here, and neither should the other slaves. If Rholker wants me so badly, I’ll stay. I’ll find Mikal, make friends, and I’ll take a few back with me.
I have the opportunity to bring hope. Teo is so good at inspiring such an emotion. I could act like a queen and be a good shining light in the darkness. The stones have already sung it.
I can do this. I just have to be strong.
Chapter 4
Henmilite
TEO
Ireach out my hand across the bed, feeling for the smooth, furless form occupying the other side of the mattress. Supple skin rewards my search almost instantly, and the lazy, contented hum of the crystal in my chest turns to an insistent melody.
My thumb runs over one of the jagged, bumpy lines left from an old scar and, for a minute, it is hard to let the past be the past. I remind myself that the harsh tokens the giants left her with couldn’t be solved at the moment, and I comfort myself with the surety that I would exact payment for each one.
Drawing my mate close to me, she makes a slight sound of protest, trying to curl further into the bed, and her long, disheveled hair sweeps off her neck, exposing two small bite marks.
Mating marks.
They don’t glow like mine, but they awaken something primal. A shiver of pleasure rumbles through me. Brushing my fingers over the marks makes her stretch her long, delicate neck, as if hoping for more touch. I’m more than happy to oblige as my hand circles around her throat, and then she grabs my hand, bringing it down to her breast.The pointed peaks are soft and electric against my palm, and she sighs.
Such brazen movements please me. But not so much as when her eyes flutter open and she looks up at me through her pretty, long lashes. Her smile breaks my heart.
Every harsh, defiant line of her face is smoothed away with an openness that terrifies her. Her want is painted in the mauve of her cheeks and the slight part of her lips.
“Buenos días,?1” she murmurs, greeting me in her people’s language.
My fingers edge toward the stone in her chest practically vibrating in my palm. Her eyes close again.
“How do you feel, my star?” I ask, and something pricks in my mind. It’s a small awareness that this isn’t real—that this isn’t the morning after our wedding.
But it should be.
Estela is predictable, still too shy to care for herself in the way she desperately needs and deserves. With her eyes closed, she wraps her hand around my index and middle finger. The shifting of the blankets causes the heady scent of her arousal to perfume the air.
If I could drown in the smell of trees, sunlight, berries, andher, I would. I certainly will try.
An ache blooms in my cock, twisting and braiding together in anticipation as she brings our hands lower… lower. I reign in the need that insists I move faster as my fingertips brush the soft curve of her belly.
