Pine Needles (Veil Realms Series) (11 page)

He lifts my jaw upward declaring my eyes to his own. “You do not wear what has been offered to you Selene.” His possession over my jaw drops, but only to grip my unconcealed neck. Stroking his thumb along my tender skin I watch him consider his next course of action.

His tone
thunders through the empty corridors, “Nevaeh. Do you not wish to serve me?”

She releases my hand soundlessly and
poses herself unafraid, but the waver in her voice stresses her angst, “Sirius, I did offer Selene—”

I
sharply interfere and begin explaining before I even realize what I am doing. I voice my opinion as I hold his intrigued gaze. “I wish to show you, Sirius, that I hold no fear, I do not fear you. You tell me that you will protect me, this is my way to demonstrate my trust in you.”

Casting a wayward glance at Nevaeh she nods solemnly as if agreeing with my words, the bitterness in his tone slips away
as he orders, “You may go.” 

Dismissing her I’m left alone with him, fully aware I’m weighted down by his phi
landering eyes which conceive a devil-may-care lust between us. Inside I’m feverishly trying to control my own thoughts, and rampant emotions, but my need to touch him overrides me. I reach up and caress his dauntless face, and a shadow of a smile crosses his lips. “This shall be the only clothing you will ever wear or nothing at all.”

Taking my hand he leads me into the glowering throne room. Once we near the demoniacal, marble sculpt
ed throne Sirius presents me behind him. Completely satisfied with his exemplary warrior form before me I take in a breath to steady my nerves.

More warlords file in
, a row on either side of Sirius, as if each holds a particular ranking position. Rigel stands like a chiseled totem on the right of Sirius disseminating his four gold bands. Sirius’s second in command, out of my peripheral vision I notice the females, dressed in a similar fashion to myself, lining directly behind the warriors.

Nina with her rose pink lips grossly sutured shut
. Onyx beads garnish her full decorated headdress as she peers over to me with tribulation. I never thought someone so unworldly beautiful could possibly look so sad. 

A
voice beckons me to my right, “Hey…” turning I come face to face with the woman from the holding cell. Her velvet dark hair cascades down freely along her back, mother-of-pearl beads enhance her headpiece. She gawks over me just as I do her.

“Told you I would do whatever they wanted.” Shrugging with indolence at me she whispers, “Apparently so did you
.” Giving a shrewd snort she turns facing Rigel’s back. Taking a brief moment to sort out my newly gathered information, she must be Rigel’s. 

Cutting a glimpse at me
, I note her eyes are the same as before, the coloration hasn’t changed. So, he hasn’t converted her,
yet
. A slew of questions bombard my mind and I want to question her existence while she submits herself to the razor fiend. But now is not the time or the place.

“Abby.
” The name is only a wisp of a fading whisper from her and I understand she is introducing herself to me.

“Selene,” I quietly whisper back.

The air stills and a hissing sound rebounds throughout the monumental room. Every warrior stands errorless and faces the awaiting throne, so stock-still I’m not even sure they breathe.

The
view in-between the warriors are poor, but her essence is obvious. Gangling golden branded legs rove by us dragging a long leathered garment. Settling her abnormal form I freeze inside as I regard the taloned claws hooking the engraved armrest as she seats herself.

“Eat
!” The command discharges a number of slaves quickly delivering large platters of raw meat. Containers filled to the brim spill over with a livid bloody tint. The elongated stone table congests with repulsiveness; seeking for some type of comfort my hand skims the side of Sirius’s armor, when coincidentally my finger grazes his skin softly between the small mesh sections of his armor.

A current of warmth seeps through my fingers and I press my body closer to him. He has become my
console in this world of savageness. Within my next exhaled breath the warriors pivot and progress toward the banquet of flesh.

Sirius gives me a subtle
behest of a nod to sit in the center of the horde. Before I am completely settled, mugs and platters scuffle and scrape across the cross-grained stone table.

Hefty wooden bowls
filled with chunks of flesh and blood are heaved before me. Sirius picks up one of the bowls and all the warriors discontinue their feeding frenzy, averting all eyes upon us.

Some even in mid-bite allowing clots of ever-red blood to drip from their feral teeth. An anguished lump begins to form in my throat, but I remain with my chin raised. My toneless eyes scan the room and fall unwillingly to the
queen’s. Sickly and waxen, her colorless eyes consume me. In truth she has the ability to appear to see anywhere within the room with her vapid visual field, but I know for a fact she is watching me like a hungry vulture. 

Serrated bones shelter around her perfect
ly symmetrical face as muted silver hair fans out like wicked wings from the back of the queen’s headdress, and drape like a death fan, crowning her.

Other than her glaring death-sentence
stare every time she looks at me, she does possess the endowments to please a male of any race. Clad in a sheen black material covering the bare essentials, I’m eerily reminded of the fact Sirius will concede to her every commands and I shiver.

“Selene…
eat
.” His voice pulls me back from the demented muse and I redirect my focus to him. My heart constricts, and once again the cursed lump arises in my constricting throat. He holds in his hand a veined torn piece of flesh to my lips.

Astonishingly, I am not nauseated by the atrocious smell, but the mere sight disturbs me beyond words. My stomach turns as my mouth waters. What’s wrong with me? My body contests with my mind, this is not acceptable. A hunger starves my objecting thoughts and I part my lips for him.

Doubt, fear, and dejection, stampedes over my heart as my tear burning eyes lock onto Sirius. Constraining all my emotions inside, I bite into the fibrous tissue. As I permit him to feed me his offering, an iron curtain drops within the room, no one makes a sound.

They are e
xpecting, and eagerly waiting for my refusal. To rebuke him in anyway but I carry on chewing and swallowing the astringent taste down with as much detachment as I can possibly assemble. If it wasn’t for his prominent down-cast eyes fixated on me I would have retreated to a passage leading out, knowing I would never make it there alive.

The trickling fluid escapes my mouth and I dispute my weakness and fight to ratify my place beside Sirius. Enduring the last bite he upholds
to my chin as he then runs his thumb confidentially along my blood ruined lips.

Leering a valiant eye over to the
queen I keep alert as she proceeds from her bone shrine throne, it is apparent I have her complete, full and very unwanted attention. Sirius’s preference to me stems an obvious detestation in her. “She feeds as one must, and so she shall remain.”

Her voice hisses with grave animosity and it drenches me to the core making me physically
shudder, again. Rashly, her talons curl into the leather garment creasing the folds as she lashes out a demand, “Render me the prisoners.”

Scuffling and grunts reverberate through the bleary corridor, three males bound with iron chains securing their hands emerge into view. Followed by two females unrestrained, but traces of physical harm desecrate their bodies. Battered and blood stained clothes cling loosely as they stand before the carnivorous
queen.

“Bow!” The cell guard barks as he forces one of the men down to his knees. Like a domino effect the remaining prisoners hastily fall to their knees. Tears expel from the distraught women and weariness lines their faces. As one glances up, she meets my eyes, and I soften my expression. They are at the hands of mercy right now, but she embraces none.

The queen prowls past each one. She grudgingly grips one of the males and lifts him up to a stand. Slinking her needlelike talons across his face and down his neck, slow and purposeful she inches closer to his swollen lips. Prying his jaw open she inhales his scent, the extended pressure from her clawing talons cut acutely into his tender skin.

A trail of blood intermingles with
his sweat which courses down his throat. I want nothing more than to close my eyes. The presage is overwhelming so much so that I fidget with the golden beads that hang from my hip. Rolling the tiny globule impulsively between my fingertips which does not comfort me, but it eases my importune restlessness growing and building inside.

The
queen cocks her head to the side as she watches the droplets of ever dark rich crimson. Appallingly, her outstretched pursuing tongue ventures out to the stream of blood. Licking and relishing in the corporeal fluid.

I
t takes my mind a half a second to comprehend what takes place next. Pronged jutting teeth gash furiously into the male’s neck, intensely his body jerks and contorts back and forth. Fighting a battle he has already lost. A low ting sound suddenly draws my attention to my feet. The bead I was obsessing over unravels from the threading and abandons to the floor.

Such a minute thing, but I watch in horror as the golden embellishment
s rolls to the queen’s feet. The gorging queen halts her feasting and stares at the trifling beads, swiftly her head cranes queerly back, sweeping the room with her visage masqueraded in blood. Whirling her form around, she releases the male as his haggard body crumples without life and teeters over to the stone floor.

“Siriu
s. Bring her to me.” He rises up and clasps his hand stiffly around my upper arm. My gait keeps a steady pace with his while he ushers me a short distance away from the queen. I gaze at her as she wipes the wretchedness from her lips, gravitating herself nearer.

My stomach twists as her heinous open-mouth breathes heavily in my face. The evidence of carnage still drips from her disturbing teeth. With grim interest she curves a taloned claw through my hair, twirling
and pulling a strand around as if she was brooding over something. “Such tangibleness.”

She takes a
step closer leveling her tinged lips to my ear as she hisses, “You may belong to him, but it is I who rule him, pretty pet.”

Her figure moves stealthily beside Sirius and positions her hand possessively on his armored chest. My legs find strength to stand taller and I maintain an unwavering expression, even though my blood boils with rage.

“Sirius.  Have your pet escort the prisoners to their cells and you reside here.”

Nevaeh warned me not to
direct any attention to myself. My body feels so wound-up with tension. Sirius’s fingers fall loose from his hold on me, and convey a subtle touch as his fingertips drift downward along my arm. It is his way of telling me to go and get out of harm’s way. He stands inexorable, pensive, and revered as the other warlords gather alongside of him.

Swallowing hard I begin to rouse the numbness from my feet and progress forward. The
queen orders a cell guard to cart off the corpselike body and dismiss the pallid prisoners. Step by step I approach one of the prisoners, a man, cuts and bruises mar his tenacious face. One reddened eye is almost completely swollen shut, and yet he narrows his look at me as I approach him.

My pondering eyes reveal something momentous that I never thought could ever exist in this
unreal world… It’s Rayden.

Chapter Thirteen

Exile

Irrefutably
, the man that follows directly behind me is Rayden. I know this with every fiber of my being. My heart breaks to see him shattered and beaten. He’s so far from the man I once knew. He doesn’t even recognize who I am. Soon our agile footfalls vanquish the corridors. Guards shove and crowd the females as we descend to the lower level of the catacombs.

I do not ask questions as the two cell guards bluntly sling the panic-stricken women in one ironclad
cell and carry onward. Lightly my hand clasps the rugged bars. I’m morosely reminded that I was once behind those exact same bars.

Rayden darts a swift glance back
over his shoulder to the two women as we walk away. Hastening my stride I recover my position next to the leading guard, instead of veering off to the linking corridors, we take a different path. The grand limestone hall hauntingly calls to us as we pass the skull-capped structures. Torches are lit and we step through a dank and constricting passageway.

Pieces click inside my
dim witted mind and I shudder with understanding. It’s a prelude to the feast. Entering the bathing area flanked with lucent torches which shine a dreary essence throughout the water filled room.

The immobile guards station themselves at the entrance, and three frail women donning dull terra-cotta cloths scamper in.
Deliberately, I move myself to the side, masking my body in the eclipsed lighting.