Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(96)

With a heaving sigh, he collapsed on a large, overstuffed chair I kept in the corner, his face and body cast in long, dark shadows, the blue and black moving over him like bars. The effect made him look like a villain in an Audrey Hepburn movie.

“Well, good morning to you, too, gorgeous.”

My heart tensed excruciatingly inside my chest as I tried to understand what I had been thrown into and wishing in vain I could at least move.

“What do you want, Sain?” I tried to say the words with as much warning and venom as I usually held, something I was marginally successful at. Not that it mattered, because he knew I was incapacitated thanks to the jagged cut down my back and the small, warm rivers running over my skin, making it obvious I was still bleeding.

“I want you to heal. I want you to survive what your father has done to you.” He spoke slowly, the same depth permeating his voice, the same powerful undertow still weaving its way through it. Still, I hadn’t expected that answer.

I also wouldn’t believe him. “What do you want of me?”

Sain sat still, his face covered in black shadows so deep I couldn’t see anything, even though I was certain he was looking at me, studying me.

The silence stretched between us like taffy, his fingers twirling something in his hand, the shape of it long and dark. He then leaned forward, his face slowly moving into the dim blue light as he rested his chin on his fingertips, the depth of his eyes absorbing me.

Clenching my teeth, I met his gaze, not wanting him to see into me as I was in no doubt he had. Nevertheless, I knew it was something I could not control.

“You were my mate for hundreds of years, Ovailia,” he sighed, his voice calm despite the unchanging intensity of his eyes. “Is it so hard to believe I still care for you?”

I cringed. “Cut the crap, Sain. I don’t know what you are up to—”

“You’re right.” He smiled, the grin menacing, the intensity of his glare rippling through me. “You don’t, but you will.”

Grinding my teeth, I found myself wishing beyond anything that I could rush him, attack him, do anything to hurt him, to make him spill whatever precious secrets he had been hiding from us for centuries. However, I was trapped, staring at him.

His smile widened before he rose from the chair, his eyes undeviating from mine as he stepped closer.

“Do you know what I am?” His voice was low as he sat down on the bed behind me, out of sight, causing my body to ache as the bed shifted underneath me. “You asked me that question before. I was wondering … Do you know what I am?”

The pain mounted as I attempted to move, putting as much force into even a simple kick as I could. Nothing came. I lay there, anger rising from the loss of what little power I had held in the situation.

“You are a Drak.”

“What kind of a Drak?” His voice was soft and so close I was convinced he was leaning into me. My heart accelerated at the close proximity, the need mixing uncomfortably with a painful throb of terror.

“The first.” My heart raced as the bed shifted again, my muscles tight as he leaned over me, his arm and hand locking me in place.

“Oh, I am more than the first. I am the first, the last, and the only, something you couldn’t possibly understand.”

I froze, focusing on where his hand leaned against my side, my eyes wide as I searched in vain for some shadow, some sign of what he was doing. There was only darkness. There was only silence. I couldn’t even hear his breathing.

“But I don’t think that was really what you were asking, was it?” he asked.

I couldn’t even bring myself to say anything as I lay underneath this stranger. His magic pulsed against me in that familiar need I had felt so many times before, the fingerprint of his power so different I didn’t recognize it, despite knowing it was him.

“You wanted to know who I am.” He was closer still, his warm exhale moved over me, fluttering through the loose strands of my hair, tickling my neck so perfectly I shivered, something he enjoyed judging by the laugh, the soft, airy chuckle that moved over my skin. “You want to know who you saw in the cathedral … in Imdalind. You know I am up to something, and you want to what it is. You want to be close to this power.”

“Yes.” The word was more of a sob as he pressed himself against me, his chest lying on top of my back as the weight smothered me in an agonizing heaviness that awakened every pain he had so recently taken away.

“You must want to know very badly,” he mused, moving his free hand to push the loose hair out of my face, his touch gentle.

I tried to wiggle, tried to move so I could see him, but it was no use. I was trapped underneath him, forced to stare at the shadows before me.

“Your father was right there, after all. Two words and you could have told him, told him everything…”

My heart beat faster at the realization, something I was certain he noticed with how closely he was plastered against me, his body pressed against my bare back so close I could feel his warmth.

“But you didn’t. You know I am right. Pet. Servant. Slave. He cares for nothing, just as I intended. Look at what he has done to you. He has done it before, you know.”

“What are you—”

“Your father removed your spine.”

I froze as Sain cut off my confusion, the question I had been about to ask lost in the shock of the words he had spoken, the painful reality shifting over me.