Louis
Soma's moans thrust through the room. They're filthy and unrelenting, the way I liked it. She was trained to perfection as if she'd slept with a thousand men, and she poured her heart and soul into it. Desperate to be away from an En-gannim jail cell and… overzealous to be the wife of an Ahmed.
On all fours, I have her hips firmly in hand and rut into my new wife for the hundredth time in only a few weeks. She had woken up a craving for my old life. The newness of a fresh face every time I went out hunting. Each with their own desires, fetishes, I happily indulged them in. What was Soma thinking about? More. Harder. Pushing against my snapping hips. The only way I could quiet her down was to satisfy her. Not yet… It was better to leave her obsessed with lust… At night, she slept in her vampire face and gave into it; the only way she could cope in this new prison… I didn't care… It worked out for me in the end. I closed my eyes, grabbed her hair, and bucked into her, grunting with pleasure.
My hips jerked out of rhythm, thinking about Juliet. Since the night of her auction, I read everyone. All the time. Even Jacklin. And unlike her, who whimpered and shivered at any amount of roughness, Soma cried out and enjoyed it. She reached between her legs to satisfy herself while I could focus on me… It was liberating, and I missed the control my ability offered. And yet… the only one who could get me to cum, was gone from the compound. I tried to work her into every scenario. Her face. Her mouth… Right now her ass. As soon as I did, she floated away… I cursed loudly as she didn't want to stay. My mind refused to turn on her the way I did with my wives.
I swore again, pounding harder and harder. It was Chris's f— fault! Denying me the indulgence. He had thought I would force Juliet every night… It cut—so deep, the weight hooked somewhere. Sudden accountability! Of making anyone do what I want. One night ruined fantasies for me… No, Chris wanted to throw up only thinking about it. Boiled over with rage at the sheer audacity of putting Juliet through what we did to our wives on a daily. His feelings had curled somewhere in me and made the vision in red walking down a carpet untouchable. He was ready to murder his way out of the compound with her… What had I done? Bid higher. Unable to let her near anyone else.
Jacklin walked down the hall, and my shoulders curled in on themselves. Our memories tasted like metal. Her every thought was of the past and what she believed we could've had. Desires. Regrets of marrying me. Hate for me, the compound, the boredom. What I had become. Disgusted every time I touched her, because of Ahasuerus's. I reminded her of him!
To make my ability a curse, the old man's face and his weird fantasy of indulging in her skin had become visceral to me. The way he stared at her reminded her of how unfair life was… Men only lusted and spilled their seed in her over and over. All she was worth. What about me!? Sharing a woman with him was now an insult. As if I were a prisoner on Earth and granted one of his leftovers.
After my inner voice churned on all of this, Sam's raw information the last time we spoke worked the last thread of my conscience. He felt my life was his fault. My father's death broke through. Memories of watching him torn apart. My mother's screams. How she cried. Grieved. Left me with Sam and said she'd be back.
I went limp in my new bride and my chin fell to my chest; this… this was never what I wanted.
For twenty-one years, I watched Basaam love Noya. He had shown me how to live and love one woman…
I spat in every man's face who fought so hard to leave En-gannim.
I literally fell out of her, shrinking to a microscopic size. My poor deflated ego, taking another hit. I didn't get what I wanted. Wasn't fast enough. Stupid for not reading everyone at the auction. Soren was clever about it, too. Stayed far away from me. I put my mindreader on because I wanted to know every thought Juliet had... And why would I ever read his fat father's mind!
Soma got off the bed and left the room.
Yes, trained to perfection. Not a word. Not a coddling session of how she could be good enough if I allow her to do her thing. No disappointment for not reaching her own climax.
The door closed. I was alone. Again. For real.
The door didn't give me a chance to get depressed. My valet for all intents and purposes came in, speaking hurriedly, in a mixture of confusion. "Marcus. At the house. Killed. Blood everywhere. Trouble."
His mind was even more of a mess.
"Shut up!" I grabbed my pants. "Wait outside." I slowly got dressed. What would be the point of rushing? They were dead.
His footsteps were fast while I lagged behind all the way to Qadir's house. Usually, it was busy, filled with people coming and going. So many thoughts, I could hardly keep up with them all. Now, only two remained, and my blubbering side piece.
"I told you to shut up. Go away."
He scurried off, pointing up the stairs.
I took them one at a time, listening intently. A female and Marcus… And one barely conscious. The woman chanted a mantra to keep herself calm. Marcus's mind was quiet like always… A few thoughts; a heavy sigh as he looked at his—mother!
I took the rest three at a time and rounded the corner. "What did you do? Is he dead?" I dropped to my knees at Qadir's side, feeling his pulse. His failing thoughts were for Kubra.
I pulled out my phone. "You better come. Qadir's office." I killed the call and headed to the woman, rocking back and forth in the chair. A blanket wrapped around her. "Are you okay?" She didn't reply. "What's wrong with her?"
"She has no tongue."
"What's her name?"
"Agatha."
I took a deep, calming breath to find a little patience for the female. I flinched away from my own train of thought. "Agatha," I said, taking her hands and rubbing them between mine. "I can read minds… So I can hear you."
Without moving her eyes, the images of what she went through played as a story.
"That's enough, stop there… I don't know if he'll make it if we don't take him to En-gannim." I walked to Qadir's table and pulled out the glass plate he kept hidden in a secret compartment.
Me [ I need to speak to Ahasuerus. Louis. ]
A return message came through just as Kubra ran into the room.
Ahasuerus [ Are you coming home? ]
Me [ Marcus almost killed Qadir. What should we do? He could still make it. ]
Ahasuerus [ Bring him here. ]
"Take him, Kubra. The king is expecting you… He doesn't want his son to die."
I stuck my head out of the room and yelled for my servant. He ran up the stairs. "Get someone to come take Agatha to her room."
As she was ushered away, she kept seeing a woman and her children being tossed into pink liquid of some kind. Their corrosive pain was still too much to bear. A flicker of Samuel on his knees, looking out over the ocean… His wife and children. I rubbed my forehead, adding another thing I should never have known. No one should know what others were thinking. Agatha's fear that it would be her fate after today crippled me. Flared into my legs. Women who misbehaved received no quarter. The numbness to feelings wasn't an issue as long as I stayed away. It slipped in now.
I walked over to the decanter and poured us both a large glass. Marcus sat dull and lifeless. Only despair. A constant loop of regret. Thinking about hurting himself again.
Was it this place?
***
To test the theory, Marcus and I travelled to France without our wives. For four days, neither of us said one word. And for one day, I gave myself a break from his instability. Fine one moment and disoriented the next. I didn't know how to help him, nor could I handle the level of dysfunction he was suffering. However, on the second day, he evened out. Settled.
It had to be the place.
The moment we sat on my expensive, hard leather sofas, I called my contractor. Told him to tear it all down. I didn't like it… The grey plastered, modern house wasn't warm. Or welcoming. Single story and boring. I could do better. Use the surroundings and the views. It didn't scream home. Not the one I would've wanted. In another life.
Marcus stared out and, without thinking, pointed a finger to open up a wound he had given himself. His first slip, thinking about nothing. I stilled his hand, took hold, and clasped it firmly. "So, what's going on?"
He pulled away and grabbed his glass instead. He felt no shame. Or even realized as if he was breaking in two. After downing the contents, he said, "For the last seven years… I've been feeling funny… Like something's not right." A derisive laugh escaped. "But this—" He lifted his arm. "I just have to get to En-gannim. I think it's this place."
"Hm," I grunted. "Try fifty years of feeling funny."
"Since you married Jacklin?"
I jerked a shoulder. "I shouldn't have done it… Sam just abruptly changed. I don't know it was—"
"As if he gave up?"
I searched Marcus's face, puzzled. "Why would you phrase it like that?"
"Rodrigo… he said the only thing that's changed is Samuel."
"What!? Sam sat me down and said the exact same thing!"
Marcus sat forward, rolling his glass through his hands. "I don't know what the guy was trying to say… He was speaking gibberish and kept bringing up Juliet."
Juliet! What did she do to us? Unleash hell! "You felt it too, didn't you?"
"As if she were a lifeline?"
"Yes! The only thing that would make all this make sense."
"Why would both of us feel like that? Rodrigo also said if anyone could figure it out, fix it, it was me. I've been trying… to think."
An understatement. He couldn't sift through anything at this point.
"Not only us… Chris was—as affected… The only person who can tell us what's going on is Sam."
Marcus shot to his feet. "I don't want to find her—them. F— it! She's free… If my grandfather does, it will be a different story, but I'm not messing up someone else's life because I can't stand myself."