From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 40

Chapter 40

I don’t notice his hand has moved so quickly to my skirts until it lifts them and reaches my bare thigh. He raises it, fitting himself better between my legs, pressing his hips against the softest parts of my body. I feel like I might faint at any moment. My legs tremble, my vision blurs, and I feel my blood pulsing in my lips. Those cold fingers now drawing slow circles on my thigh don’t make me shiver with cold–instead, they send waves of pure fire through my body. I tell myself this is wrong. I try to lift my hands and push him away, but they’re pinned against his chest. There’s no space between us.

“Your blood is like a siren’s song to me, Elara.”

He’s said my name before, and only now do I realize how good it sounds in his mouth, with that velvet voice. I want to say something, but everything I can think of feels stupid… or maybe I just don’t want to break this moment and betray myself.

The nearness of his mouth to mine is dangerous–I can feel the warmth of his breath brushing my lips, and I bite them when his hand slides higher up my thigh. If he moved just a couple more centimeters, his hand would be pressed against the very center of me. Just the thought makes me flush every possible shade of red. His eyes focus on my lower lip caught between my teeth, and what he sees makes him swallow. There’s something almost erotic in the way his throat moves up

and down.

“You disgust me,” he says, mere centimeters from my mouth. “And I disgust myself.”

The distance between us couldn’t even fit a needle. The impact of his scent drives my senses wild–everything begins and ends with him. He surrounds me completely, not just because he literally has one hand on my nape and the other under my skirts, but because his presence seems to seep into every inch of my skin. He brushes his lips fleetingly against the corner of my mouth. His body moves, and his lips follow, touching mine in a way so subtle it almost seems like a mirage–but it’s not. It’s not, because I feel a tingling exactly where he touched me, and the darkened look on his face tells me it was real. He pulls away from me with a growl, wild.

Wherever his skin had touched mine, cold spreads once more. His hands are now rubbing over his face, and I hear him stifle more than one growl. I’m too stunned to act normal right now. No words come out–only instinct tells me to get as far away as possible. I’ve taken only two steps when his words stop me cold.

“I hope my touch is punishment enough, knowing how much you hate us,” he says coldly, cutting. “It certainly was for me.”

The truth is, I was far from feeling that way, though I know it’s the right thing to feel. I let him touch me and nearly kiss me -a creature like him. What does that say about me? Am I that disturbed? Leaving my family, my home, my beliefs… it’s affecting me to the point where now I let a vampire touch me while I bite my lips to suppress moans. It’s pathetic how a single brush of his fingers could awaken such a strange reaction.

I keep walking, though not for long, knowing I’m lost among these hedges. I have no idea how to get out. The thought of retracing my steps is not an option–I wouldn’t be able to look Cassian in the eye right now. So no matter how lost I am, I’ll have to find my own way out–or freeze to death. I hug myself, missing the cloak I lost earlier tonight. I don’t know how much time passes as I turn one way and then the other, without much hope. I should feel relief knowing my actions won’t bring about my death–for now–but what just happened has tainted that feeling.

I feel dirty, wrong, immoral.

Invaded by those sensations, I manage to get out of the labyrinth, only to my disappointment it is not the end of these gardens–they’re far more extensive than I thought. This area is less dark, bathed in the silvery light of the moon. There is a small stone bench, and around it grows vegetation I have never seen before. It looks nothing like what grew in Ravag. The lilac flowers I saw at the beginning of the maze now cover everything here. I step closer to admire them; from their center, like a cascading fountain, fall tiny droplets that shine as if they were diamonds. My fingers, driven by curiosity, stroke them, expecting them to be wet. They are solid and dry. For a moment I consider the possibility that they are actual diamonds. I

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Chapter 40

shake my head–it’s impossible. They’re flowers; jewels can’t grow from them.

Others, in a dark crimson shade, catch my attention. I approach them expectantly, raising a hand to my mouth to stifle the gasp that wants to escape. The flower remains closed in a bud, but it pulses, as if it were a heart. I glance around and find more oddities. Flowers with small bells that truly chime when the breeze touches them; others, silver ones whose petals seem sharp and ready to wound anyone who dares to touch them; and lastly, roses, blacker than the deepest night, along which drip beads I could mistake for dew, but whose reddish tone leaves no doubt.

There is a cruel beauty in this garden.

I sit on the bench, determined to catch my breath before attempting to find a way back to the castle that doesn’t involve crossing the maze again–though the gardens themselves seem just as confusing. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimmering light and turn toward it. At first I think it’s a firefly, though I doubt one would come out in the dead of winter to freeze–it would probably have more survival instinct than I seem to have. Like everything else here, it too holds an inexplicable beauty and rarity. It shines like a star in the sky, flitting around me so brightly that tears sting my eyes from the effort of keeping them open.

Another light joins it. Then another. Soon I’m surrounded by tiny stars. I raise my hand and extend a finger toward one of the tiny shining lights. When I touch it, it feels soft and warm, and I think I hear a tiny laugh. I lift my face, searching for someone else nearby who could have made that sound. No one is there–only me.

I repeat the gesture, touching another of the points of light with my finger, and get the same response.

I open my mouth, unable to contain my wonder.

“What are you?” I ask, not truly expecting an answer.

As I suspected, none comes. Instead, the lights begin spinning faster around me. Their glow warms my skin chilled by the night, and I feel my heart soften inside my chest. This sensation is so pleasant…

“You don’t speak?” I ask again, like a fool.

“Sometimes they do.” The masculine voice I didn’t want to hear again tonight answers from behind me. “You just have to listen to them in your heart.”

I don’t respond. I try to ignore him, though that doesn’t make him go away or leave me in peace. His footsteps sound firm behind me. The lights that had moments ago swirled around me with their glow and warmth now flutter around him, shining even brighter. Illuminated like this, his features are so… They don’t seem so cruel. They seem softer. Still, I remind myself that his beauty is as cruel as the rest of this garden.

“What are they?” I ask, just to satisfy my curiosity.

“They’re fairies.” One lands on the tip of his finger. “Very particular ones. They tend to appear where there are tormented souls.”

I jerk upright on the bench.

“Tormented souls?”

“That’s what I said, yes.” Now more than one perches on his fingers as he looks at me with one brow arched. “Why? Are you scared at the thought your soul might be tormented?”

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