NOVEL NEXT CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - ORACLE
Kaelen straddled her bare thighs around Alistair's waist, her body flushing as she gasped beneath him. His hands gripped harshly on her hips, every thrust selfish and rough during his pursuit of self-pleasure, already marring new bruises on her skin. But she clung to him still, revelling in the fullness of his body that buried deeply within her; to her, those marks were a sign that he claimed her for himself.
Alistair watched her with emotionless eyes - the way her head tipped back in pleasure, the hitch of her breath - feigning just enough of his own affection to keep her anchored into the moment; but in the throes of pleasure, his mind slipped away to someone else entirely.
Autumn red hair faded to a pale, silvery blonde that tumbled in long waves over slender shoulders dusted with freckles. Aqua eyes paled to glacier shades, defined muscles softening into a slim, curvaceous figure. In his imagination, she surrendered to him entirely, crying his name and aching for his every touch.
He didn't even want for Naomi in a lustful way. But the very fantasy of possessing someone that would break Cassien was far more intoxicating than any act of intimacy. Watching their lover's quarrel in the chamber room had been amusing, but it didn't compare to the satisfaction he felt now. It was enough to break him over the edge; though as soon as the buzz of his ecstasy faded and Naomi's face shifted back into Kaelen's, he pulled out and began to dress.
Kaelen sat up quickly, pressing the front of her bare body against his back as she nuzzled into his neck. "You're not leaving already, are you?"
He rolled his shoulders in a way that nonchalantly dismissed her touch. "I have some matters to attend to."
"Will you come back once you're done?" Kaelen murmured, hands lingering on his waist, gently tracing the still-healing crimson scars. "I've barely seen you since you got back."
Alistair didn't answer as he tugged a shirt over his head, removing her touch from his body. "Don't wait for me."
He pressed a stony kiss to her temple to placid her, immediately heading for his usual working chambers before she could even respond. Scattered, half-baked plans still lay unfinished on the obsidian table, sending a wave of frustration through him. At this point, he had figured that the last bit of shattered power was most likely interrupted by Naomi and Cassien - but all that mattered now was how he was going to retrieve it.
A sadistic smile spread across his tanned face. Scratch that - he knew how. But how exactly was he going to reach them? No doubt Tudor would be on high alert, and reaching either regions of Rivain or Monroe would be like sailing into suicide. But just as eager as he was to reclaim every shred of power that belonged to him, they had to be itching for revenge as well. It was only a matter of finding out how it would happen, if a certain someone broke.
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He dug his nails into his own palm so deeply that blood began to trickle, allowing his magic to unfurl at the same time. The air grew heavy and red as his mind drifted from his body, the world falling away to a vast aurora of pure silver. Alistair saw her immediately among the colorless void, her long, sleek silver hair wafting out in a semi-circle. She was dressed still in the same crimson dress that she spent her last conscious night in, a thick dagger protruding from her chest. Her chin was upright in defiance, the quiet fury in her eyes present as always as he approached.
"Have you remembered how to speak yet? Or does your physical handicap extend here, too?" He drawled, mockery lacing his words.
Princess Seraphine's mouth tightened as she turned her head away, though her body remained frozen in a standing pose.
"It really does you no good to stay quiet," Alistair sighed dramatically as he whirled behind her, running his fingers through her hair. "You know the deal: provide me with your prophecy, and I might just release you from this limbo. I'd really prefer not to use the other option."
Seraphine snapped her head away as quickly as she could to rid herself of his unwanted touch. Though she didn't answer, he relished in the pure look of hatred on her usually reserved features. He was surprised though that she had held on for so long, trapped in this one-sided tether ever since he had plunged the artifact dagger into her the very same night as the shattering. She had not cracked a single time, begged for mercy or relented - not yet, at least.
He leaned in closely, tapping the dagger's hilt. "It's really a shame that you'd choose this hellhole over seeing your brother again. He's probably lost his mind by now."
The princess merely clenched her teeth in response, her eyes staring straight ahead. Her silence was her defiance.
His lips curled upwards. "I'll have to give you props, princess. You're very strong - but everyone breaks at some point. I guess this means you chose the other option."
Alistair tightened his psychic grip between them, a ray of red puncturing straight into the middle of her forehead. It was a tactic he'd done for nights on end, but she was annoyingly persevering at keeping him locked out from accessing her magic. Not to mention, his own wounds inflicted by Cassien reopened each time, greatly delaying their healing process. But Alistair pushed through his own pain, letting it spike between them. Even back in his physical body, he could already feel the wounds splitting open, blood seeping once more.
Seraphine's eyes squeezed shut as her body went more rigid than it already was, her breathing labored and ragged. A layer of sweat broke as the agonizing sensation rippled throughout her entire body, like a constant wave of lightning coursing from head to toe. For a single heartbeat, his power finally overwhelmed her after the repeated torture, surging past crumbling defenses to reveal the silver haze of her magic: two pairs of eyes - golden and pale blue - their faces otherwise obscured by a desert wrap as sand swirled around.
It was gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough.
Alistair sucked on a sharp breath before a slow, vicious smile spread across his face. "It seems I'll have to throw our guests a welcome party. Do you think the lovebirds would prefer to share one room?"
Seraphine glared at him with hateful eyes, sweat trickling down her face. Her one consolation was he had no experience or skill in interpreting the crypticness of her visions that often followed. For all he knew, they could already be halfway through the city or arriving a year from now. She just had to hold on for as long as she could until they showed up. Until then, Seraphine continued to quietly rebuild her walls as much as she could, refusing submission.