Chapter 12 : Dreams and Nightmares

*Gemma* "Throne room?" I questioned, tempted to laugh. Volatile and pompous Alpha. Raisa ignored me and rushed to hide the bag and tidy the dresser. She was an absolute disaster. And I needed to help. "Raisa. Raisa. Stop, stop, stop." I walked into her path and caught her shoulders. I just noticed her smeared makeup and streaks of kohl down her cheeks. "Let's just sit down, okay?" I guided her to the vanity, gently pushing down on her shoulders to make her sit. "I look like shit," she told my reflection. "And I feel like I'm going to throw up. The physician said I'm already two months in, and it's odd that I haven't shown as many symptoms as all the other girls did." I helped her freshen up, taking off her makeup and drying her eyes to make it look like she didn't lose all her composure. She let me do it all despite my inexperience, and by the time I decided it was good enough—which wasn't much time at all, since I assumed going to this throne room wasn't just a casual summoning—she smiled, and the actor and her lovely mask had returned. Elegance restored. Raisa tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you, sweet. I can't believe I just showed the pathetic part of me," she laughed breathlessly. I beamed at her despite everything. "We're all a little messed up inside, right?" She gave another laugh and took my hand tightly in hers. "I suppose so. Come. We wear our brave faces now." But I planted my feet and whispered, "Raisa, do you mean it? Are you really going to try and escape? You said it yourself how many guards there are, not to mention Connor and Cillian. There are only miles of desert—" Her eyes flashed. "Do you want to get the hell out of here too or not?" *** Raisa led us down to the throne room after she hastily dressed. The doors were already open, Sharen waiting between them. She walked ahead of us and gestured to the girls—all still in skimpy nightgowns— already lined up facing a ridiculously large and ornate throne atop a dais. This grand room I had no interest in taking in. My mind was still occupied with what to say to Raisa's question. Sharen moved to the left side of the throne, dwarfed by its size, looking quite plain compared to the shining gold and black velvet. "All of you be quiet," she snapped when two of the girls murmured to each other. Raisa and I tacked on to the end of the line. It was utterly silent but for mismatched heartbeats and fluctuating lungs. I started to hone in on specific sets, but realized I only had to categorize two: the harem girls' breathing was fast and shallow. Terrified. And the six Epsilon lining each of the four walls of the room? Steady as could be. Dread was starting to make my legs tremble. Why would Connor summon the harem and twenty-four guards in the dead of night? "What is going on?" Raisa demanded. "Where is the Alpha?" Sharen's eyes flashed, and she curled her lip but didn't get the chance to snap back when the doors burst open, banging all the way to hit the walls. All the girls flinched and whimpered, the two pregnant ones hiding behind Raisa as Cillian strode in, his smug face splattered with blood. Behind him, several guards were jostling and grunting as if they were trying to control something. Suddenly, my chest tightened. I felt something loop itself around my heart and cinch tight. I pictured it as a ribbon, and once it was tied, I felt the rest of it start to tug. Gently at first, but then it was insistent, as if it was trying to pull my whole body forward. The dread in my veins was replaced by a kind of anticipation. I felt poised to move instead of wanting to stay rooted to the floor. I wanted to give in to the tug of the ribbon and follow it to its other end. To the someone tied to its end. Cillian moved to the right side of the throne, eyeing the harem hungrily as he swiped the back of his hand across his face to smear the blood. But I couldn't care less about him. Nor even Connor as he shoved himself through the struggling guards. He looked murderous. He was smattered with blood as well, but it looked like he had smeared his hand across his face, its pattern vaguely resembling an entire handprint. He didn't make any eye contact with the harem even when they whimpered and flinched again as he stalked up the dais to his throne and sat, crossing one leg over the other, leaning his elbow on the armrest. He erratically tapped his fingers on it. Nothing happened for five seconds. Without warning, he exploded. "What the f*ck are you idiots waiting for?! Bring him in!" The Epsilon struggled to bring "him" through the doors for only a second before hauling him in, pitching a body onto the ground with a chorus of grunts. He was a tall, broad male, and he landed ungracefully, barely catching himself on his hands and knees with an echoing smack before falling flat on his face. He coughed and spit up blood onto the marble floor and muttered, "Ow." I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, and the rock was threatening to crack to pieces and collapse plunging me hundreds of feet into darkness. My heart, the ribbon still wrapped around it, lurched into my throat to constrict my airflow. I felt something else stir within me, something warm in the center of my body just below my ribs. The male's head suddenly jerked up. His eyes found mine within the instant. I expected the cliff to crumble and plunged me into the unknown. Instead, the cracks sealed, and I felt steady and safe. Because it was him. The male from the ground in Niburgh. The one who appeared in my dreams on the moonlit beach. Those times he hadn't been covered in blood and dust. He didn't have a busted lip or a swollen eye or claw marks shredded through clothes and flesh across his chest. Despite him looking like shit, his gray eyes were clear and bright, wide as he took me in. "You," he breathed, barely audible. The ribbon stopped tugging. He was the someone on the other end. Connor's booted foot slammed into his back. He grunted and collapsed. The crack of bones sent a bolt of lightning through me and I stumbled in place. Raisa grabbed my wrist. "No," I heard her whisper quiet enough that only I could hear. "My lovely consorts," Connor announced in an exaggerated sigh, "have you ever seen a shifter with white hair before?" None of the girls answered, not even Raisa. His gold eyes flashed, and he roared, "Speak up!" "No!" all of the girls bleated, except Raisa. "No, of course not," Connor growled in satisfaction, grinding his heel into the male's spine. He groaned in pain. Raisa squeezed my wrist tighter. "Do you want to know why?" "W-why?" asked six trembling voices. "Because I killed them all. Or… so I thought. Shame on me, I thought I was more thorough." "Who—who is he, Alpha?" Marise asked, sounding sickeningly curious. "Where did he come from?" "Two questions, my dear, that I want to know as well. Would you like to enlighten us on your identity, esteemed guest?" When the male refused to respond, Connor snarled wordlessly, grabbed him by his already ripped collar, and hauled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing. He wavered, struggling to retain his balance. Connor slammed his hands down on both of the mystery male's shoulders, keeping him at arm's length as he grinned savagely. "Go on, don't be shy. You won't flee again now, will you? You tried that, what, at least five times since my soldiers caught you in that alleyway in Niburgh? It's a maze of a city, isn't it? I believed it to not have any value to me anymore, but maybe I just couldn't find all the clever crevices that all you fugitives burrow yourselves between?" The male didn't answer. I could only see his profile, but I didn't see a hint of fear—he wore no expression, in fact. No anger, no disgust, not even defiance. Just a flat look that seemed prepared to bear the pain without complaint. I wondered if he was just as good an actor as Raisa was. I prayed to the Moon Goddess that he was. Connor didn't like his silence. His manic grin flickered toward something more vicious. "I know you have a tongue, you bastard. Use it before I threaten to cut it out. You wouldn't want to subject these young females to the horror of that, would you? I excel at getting the names out of my enemies. They generally like to keep the body parts I put a knife to." The male inhaled, then exhaled, and said, "Just like them, I generally don't like submitting to my enemy who destroyed dozens of packs and murdered hundreds of families. I doubt they came here willingly." Connor's jaw worked. "While I enjoy my merits being pointed out, it is the tone that decides if I thank the speaker or bolt their tongue to my front door." "It would be an honor to be the first thing your enemies see." "It is a threat to the enemy." "Well, yes, but it's also a sign that they got under your skin enough to make you kill them." Some of the girls gasped at his audacity. Cillian growled and took a threatening step toward the male. "How dare you—" Connor held up a hand to stop him. "No, no, Cillian, he is allowed a jab or two. We all know he's right. These girls? Yes, I took them. I took them because they had nothing left, and I just didn't have the heart to leave them in the ruins of nothing." There—a flicker of emotion. Just a twinge of a neck muscle. Connor's smile twisted shrewdly, and he cocked his head to the side. "You seem like you have something to say to me. Go on. I said a jab or two." It was a trap, I realized as the male kept his mouth shut. Connor was goading him into saying something the Alpha could use against him. Don't give in, I willed as if he could hear me. Don't let him get even the smallest win. "Very well. If it makes you feel any better, they live in luxury. Look at them. Do they look emaciated to you? No, they are well-fed and cared for. Even after they bear me offspring, they stay here to be pleasured just the way they like. Go on. Look at them." When the male refused to turn, Connor grabbed his face and jerked his head to the side. He did look over the huddle of girls, but only for a fleeting glance, because his storm-gray eyes found mine and didn't leave.