A Meet of Tribes (A Shade of Vampire #45)(58)

My heart tied itself up in knots at the sight of his pained expression.

“He brought shame to my family, to our entire nation, and to the Strandh lineage.”

“I am sorry, Bijarki,” I said. “I can only imagine how that must have felt.”

My hand instinctively covered his on top of the book, my fingers squeezing gently enough to express some of the affection I felt toward him. He’d shown an emotional side of himself, and, judging by his military upbringing, it had taken an effort for him to open up like that. Even if it was just one expression in front of a little fae.

“I stopped grieving a long time ago, Vita. I’m a soldier. I fight. He’s made his bed, and he will have to lie in it.”

He took a deep breath and straightened his back, finally noticing my hand on his. I moved to take it back, but he stopped me. His fingers gently brushed my knuckles. His gaze shifted to my face, and our eyes met. I felt my throat dry up, and I licked my lips, unable to stifle the thirst that had suddenly taken over.

He brought his hand up, leaving mine tingling on the book. He cupped my cheek and smiled, his eyelids dropping slowly. He parted his lips as his face came close enough for me to feel his breath over my lips. My heart galloped in my chest. My head swam as I gazed into his eyes, mesmerized by the silver swirls around his pupils.

I felt my lower lip quiver, my core beckoning me to taste him.

Then an image formed in the black pools of his pupils. It grew larger, expanding outward until it enveloped me entirely. Before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of a vision. A dark chamber, made of black stone and heavy iron chains rattling from the ceiling.

Green flames flickered from the wall-mounted torches. I gasped, recognizing the interior of Azazel’s castle. My heart stopped at the sight before me. Bijarki was on his knees, his wrists cuffed and bleeding, pulled up by the chains from the ceiling. He was in a lot of pain, bruised and beaten all over, his bare chest slashed diagonally.

A tall incubus walked around him, holding a whip. He was older than Bijarki and bore his physical resemblance. My stomach churned with the realization of who it was.

“You gave up everything for her, son. You stupid, stupid boy,” the incubus said to Bijarki.

He struck him. The whistle of the lash cut through the air and bit into Bijarki’s back.

I cried out. Stop it!

“At least I fought for what I believed in. At least I wasn’t a coward who sided with the enemy of my people, of my world, like you did, father,” Bijarki replied, gritting his teeth from the pain. “At least I fought with honor!”

“Your honor is useless here, son! Your Oracle will rot away in a glass bubble! You have failed, and now I have to convince you to join us, or die!”

Another lash. Another cry.

“Vita!” Bijarki shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks as his father continued to hit him.

His voice echoed through the chamber, and I trembled and cried out.

Stop it!

“Vita?” Bijarki’s voice pulled me back into reality.

The image dissipated like a drop of ink in water, swiftly replaced by Bijarki’s worried expression. I was lying on the floor in his arms. His hand caressed my face, and his voice gently drew me back into the present.

I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful not to be in that chamber anymore. In that future.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding me close.

I relaxed in his grip and reached a hand out to touch his face. I saw black runes dancing on my skin again, and I stilled, my fingers on his sharp-edged cheek. He saw them as well and frowned before shifting his focus back to my face.

I watched the runes slowly disappear and took a deep breath. My cheeks burned, and my pulse raced.

“I saw you, Bijarki. You were captured, a prisoner in Azazel’s prison. Your own father was punishing you, calling you a failure with each lash of his whip.”

I felt his grip tighten. His embrace brought me closer to his face. He nodded and helped me back up on my feet. I wanted to tell him about other visions I’d had of him. I wanted to tell him about the two of us in bed, sleeping blissfully before the Destroyers crashed into the room and tore us apart.

But I wasn’t sure whether that had been a vision or a dream. And I lacked the courage to describe such a scene to him. I wasn’t used to opening up to people other than my closest family.

“You see the future so that we may prevent it,” Bijarki replied.

He ran his fingers through my hair and brushed his knuckles against my cheek. His gaze softened, and his lips stretched into a warm smile.

“Next time I see my father, I’ll have to run my sword through him.”

He withdrew his hand, bowed curtly, and left the library, while I spent the next few minutes recovering my breath and reeling from the delicious sensations that his touch had ignited in every inch of my flesh.





Serena





Several hours later, we reached Mount Inon. The journey there had been swift and uneventful. Bijarki and Hansa did a good job of keeping the shape-shifters away with poisoned arrows. The weather was in our favor, and the sun was high in the sky as we climbed the rocky volcano ridge.

It led us to a narrow plateau surrounded by tall shrubs, where giant sculptures adorned the limestone wall of the mountain. Draven and I didn’t exchange a single word, and I kept my distance from him, thankful to have Hansa standing between us.