Chapter Text
Violet leans against her favorite oak tree and contentedly sighs, smiling as she brushes her fingers against her kiss-bitten lips. Darkness has settled like a blanket, and Violet mentally replays the tender way Kyle first wrapped his lips around hers, with a reverence that sent goosebumps down her arms, before he cupped her cheek, deepening his ministrations with presses of his tongue until they were both trading passionate swipes. Kyle lacked the practiced polish of Halden, but his affection felt real, and the promise in his eyes when he reluctantly drew away made Violet’s heart thump in her chest. As a 1st year infantry cadet, Kyle sadly had to rush back to his barracks in time for curfew, but he gifted Violet one last warm smile as he slipped past the gate.
Violet, only 18, chose to remain because she was not yet a cadet and faced no such responsibility. Her mother, the infamous General Sorrengail, might have issued a curfew, had she cared enough to look up from her desk, but with only the two of them left of her family, hardly word a passed between them and it seemed Violet was far off her mother’s radar. So Violet was left to happily reflect on her blooming affection under the comforting branches of her tree, excitedly anticipating their next meeting tomorrow.
The air carried a slight chill, prompting Violet to wrap her knit cloak closer. Her normal attire would have been a loose tunic and trousers, but for her meeting with Kyle she instead chose a tight sweater, with a deep scooping neckline teasing her full breasts, along with tight-fitting trousers hugging every curve.
Smiling up at the stars, Violet continues to bask in her happiness a little longer, leaning against her tree and staring out over the river, Basgiath looming to her back. Only after some time, does she decide to head back in, wanting to chase sweet dreams of today’s encounter.
Violet stands, stretching her whole body, chest curving out, arms extending to the sky.
Without warning, strong arms grab her body, crushing her into warm hardened muscles, her startled cry muffled by a giant hand.
At least she thinks that’s what’s happening, but though she is restrained and silenced, she can’t see anything of her attacker, not even the hand clamped over her mouth, or the lips leaning down to order,
“Don’t move, or you’re dead.”
The deep voice causes panic to seize Violet’s body and her heart pumps double-time, leaving her trembling like a rabbit pinned by a wolf. The thick scent of leather pushes a possibility into her mind: invisibility as a signet power. That thought, plus the obviously hardened musculature of the body clamped around hers, leads to a damning conclusion—a rider now holds her hostage with no hope of escape.
The rider must be huge, she thinks, well over 6ft, but many riders are tall, so it does little to narrow down her captor’s identity. However, she then remembers her mother’s warning from this summer—this year is the first that the children of the Tyrrish rebellion enter Basgiath, and Violet’s reckless disregard for the warning is her downfall.
Many thought the Tyrrish cadets would be killed the moment they entered the quadrant. Violet had surmised that had been the point of conscripting them in the first place. But most proved to be skilled and resilient, and even accomplished the unfathomable by bonding dragons. After Threshing a palpable tension fell over the college, leadership expecting the marked cadets to try to take retribution any day now. The thought causes a sickening feeling to bloom in her stomach. She’s positive now that, as the daughter of General Sorrengail, who captured all the Tyrrish rebels for execution, Violet will be the instrument of revenge.
Warmth brushes her ear again, the low voice confirming her suspicions with a taunt, “Look at the pretty prize I captured, a little Sorrengail.”
When she tries to whimper a muffled response, the invisible warm hand disappears from her mouth, her captor obviously wanting to revel in her fear. Her head now has some freedom of movement and she tries to recall the self-defense lessons her sister, Mira, taught her, but nothing other than mercy would grant her freedom from this capture. She clings to the hope that maybe the marked ones are less vengeful than Navarrians.
Wanting to show deference, Violet begs in Tyrrish, “Please, I’m not my mother, please don’t hurt me for her transgressions.”
Solid forms unnervingly appear around her. She can now see the massive arm crushing her body backwards, and in her peripheral she sees dark wavy hair brush down as her captor spits out,
“Now why would I listen to your pleas, when no one listened to ours as our parents burned.”
Violet’s heart contracts in her chest, both out of pity for the marked ones and resignation that her fate is sealed by a vicious punishment meted out years ago. Helpless tears fall from her eyes and thoughts rush through her head as she tries to identify her captor. The immovable muscled arm grasping her has tawny skin, marked with an intimidating pattern of black swirls starting at the wrist and ending above an enormous bicep. Given this information, there is one obvious choice, maybe her captor was cloaked in shadows when she thought he was invisible?
“Xaden,” she sobs pleadingly, “I will do whatever you want, please spare my life.”
Her captor suddenly and viciously grabs her hair at the roots, pulling her head up and to the side, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck. A low chuckle vibrates through her bones as her captor’s mouth pauses threateningly, an inch from her pulse point.
“You’re not as smart as you think, little Sorrengail, guess again.”
His biting Tyrrish alights every nerve in her body while Violet’s mind spins, how could it not be Riorson? Who else?
But then-
“Bodhi?” she questions, her voice small and panicked.
She feels his predatory smile.
“There you go little Sorrengail, it’s the cousin who’s always forgotten, never noticed, invisible.”
That can’t be right, though, no marked cadet, no any cadet, has manifested invisibility in decades, the last rider with invisibility just retired from the Southern Wing. Yet, Violet is left disoriented and confused when Bodhi blinks out from sight while still holding her deathly still.
“That’s impossible, I know about you, you have the power to cancel signets!”
She is considering the possibility her captor lied about his identity, when she is suddenly spun around and shoved back against the tree. The form controlling her towers as tall as estimated, and his black curls and closed-off face are unmistakable. Her body shudders as Bodhi’s massive hand pins her throat, and she dares not move as she stares up into frightening light brown eyes, illuminated with hatred and malice.
“Knowing you are not going to walk away from here, little Sorrengail…”
he pauses to delight as Violet blanches in fear,
“…I don’t mind revealing my secrets. You see, my dragon previously was bonded to my father, gifting me a second signet. And I want you to know that because I will have way too much fun using this signet to ruin you.”
In the back of her mind Violet wonders if somehow Bodhi’s dragon used an alternate identity to enable this bond.
But these questions vanish when a massive hand grabs and pins Violet’s wrists against the rough bark of the tree. In an instant they are bound with a leather strap, secured in place by a low branch.
Violet’s body stretches uncomfortably, she is barely able to stay on the balls of her feet. This isn’t the main concern, however, when a steel knife glints in the moonlight, drawn precariously close to her throat.
“Please Bodhi—“
Her pleading cries are cut off with a snarl,
“My mother and father were ripped from this world thanks to your mother, it’s their name that should be spilling from your tongue while you beg for mercy!”
Bodhi’s form is as tight as a bowstring, and his eyes are now deep pools of death. One wrong move and Violet knows her life will be extinguished in an instant.
She lowers her eyes in deference and shame for a crime she did not commit.
“Please Durran, please let me live. Please, I will do anything you wish.”
“Anything I wish, huh? Let’s see what a little Sorrengail can offer.”
Bodhi relaxes a fraction, and Violet almost allows herself to hope, until the silver steel blade slashes against her chest.
Violet blinks, then shudders. She was not cut, is not bleeding, but glee shines in Bodhi’s face.
Fabric rustles in the breeze against the sides of Violet’s chest. Bodhi’s blade has vertically bisected Violet’s sweater and slashed through her breast bindings, leaving her breasts and tense nipples exposed to the night wind and Bodhi’s malicious gaze.
“Please Durran, no, please…” she whimpers. She’s not sure why she’s still begging in Tyrrish, but she continues to use his language.
Bodhi leans towards her, the blade still dangerously bared. Violet withers in fear as he comes closer, his mouth twisting into a smirk.
“So are you choosing death, little Sorrengail? Because I was gracious enough to give you two options.”
Violet realizes that she has no other hope than to endure and survive. She relinquishes her fate to her captor.
“Whatever you wish, Durran, please let me live,” she whispers dejectedly.
Bodhi grabs Violet’s hair and pulls her head up, forcing her to rise to her tiptoes as her scalp screams in pain. Bodhi’s face leans inches from her, and he rests his knife against her neck.
“Whatever I wish could still be your death, I am the one who decides.”
His eyes blaze with dominance as Violet cowers in defeat.
“Your death would certainly please me. But I may be persuaded by your pretty Tyrrish begging.”
Violet seizes the opportunity for survival.
“Please Durran,” she angles her wet eyes up to meet his, still straining on her toes, “Please let me live, please let me please you in other ways!”
Bodhi drags the blunt edge of his knife along her neck as soft as a caress.
“You are now mine, and I want to mark you as such,” he whispers firmly into her ear.
“Right now I’m deciding between my blade,” another caress of steel against her throat, “or my mouth.” He punctuates the word with a teasing scrape of his teeth against her pulse.
Violet’s body tenses, the intimate gestures drawing her skin tight into goosebumps, causing her nipples to pebble in the night air, and causing her core to clench traitorously. Bodhi stares at her stretched neck hungrily, and Violet realizes Kyle’s love bites must be visible.
As if reading her thoughts, Bodhi muses as he taps his blade against each sensitive mark, “You seemed to really enjoy that infantry cadet’s mouth along your neck.”
Violet’s body both trembles and thrills with each delicate tap of the knife.
“Kyle Lingbaum, right?”
Sudden, cold dread flashes through her body and she stills. Bodhi’s been following her, stalking her, how many times was he around without ever being seen?
“You see, when I said I would ruin you, I meant it. Your infantry cadet, your little friend Dain, both could easily have itsy-bitsy little fatal accidents. I would need heavy persuasion to prevent such tragedies.”
“Please Durran, please mark me with your mouth!” Violet’s desperate pleas tumble from her lips, drawn out by her cold fear.
Bodhi finally releases her scalp, and she slumps back down onto the balls of her feet. Her breasts give a quick bounce at the motion, causing a slightly pleasurable pull of the skin around her nipples. Violet’s body trembles with confusion, arousal, terror.
Bodhi moves the knife away from her throat, and leans down with a wicked, expectant smile. He wants more.
“Durran, please, I’m yours, please mark me with your mouth, let everyone know I’m yours!”
Bodhi viciously grasps Violet’s jaw, drawing her chin to the side, his hot mouth on her in a flash. A gasp escapes her lips, his mouth sucking a painful bruise, completely covering one from Kyle. He continues down the column of her neck, and to Violet’s shame she finds herself whimpering with involuntary pleasure, stretching and presenting herself to him.
Bodhi leans back to admire the patchwork of possession that now marks her, and Violet’s feelings war between relief and craving. Her face must betray her want, because Bodhi’s heated gaze snaps to hers, a Cheshire smile blooming across his face. He slowly lowers his full lips towards hers, and pauses tantalizingly close. Violet knows what he wants. “Please Durran,” she whimpers, almost automatically, “I’m yours.”
His lips crash to claim hers with arrogant possession, pressing dominantly against hers, ordering her to relinquish not just control of her body, but also her mind. With a soft release of breath she does, and Violet forgets the swirling terror, forgets the strain of having her arms stretched and bound, forgets the shame of bearing her breasts in the open. Instead, her mind chooses survival, chooses release.
Bodhi spreads one large hand against her throat, fingers tilting her jaw so he can push his tongue aggressively into her mouth. Violet moans, curling her tongue and sucking his with worshipful abandon. Bodhi’s body crushes against her with a groan, his cock straining through his leathers as he ruts into her. Continuing the possessive plundering of Violet’s mouth, she realizes he must have sheathed his knife because his other hand curls around her ribcage, pushing her to rub her nipples against his cold leathers. Violet lets herself get lost in the sensations, her mouth, breasts, and dripping core betraying her wanton need. This is nothing like the warm sweeping of lips she shared with Kyle, this is a wildfire devastating her body, screaming Bodhi’s ownership.
Violet arches up against Bodhi, her desperate, “Please!” forming around his tongue. Cruelly, he instantly pulls away. Violet’s eyes go wide, her body automatically arching into the cool air, into nothing. Bodhi’s gaze hardens and he presses a controlling hand against her windpipe.
“You will take what I choose to give, and be thankful.” His growl drips with death.
Violet tries to whimper in assent, but his hand sharply cuts off her air. Her eyes start to water, her body panicking at the sudden loss of air. He pushes against the rest of her body when it starts to struggle, then thrash, watching with malicious curiosity as her vision begins to darken around the edges.
One second before losing consciousness he releases her. With a derisive sneer he watches as she gasps desperately, her breasts heaving with the effort. When her breaths start to normalize, he grasps her jaw, forcing her to look up at him.
“I own you. I take what I want and you will serve me.”
Violet trembles as she peers into his eyes, until he shakes her jaw, obviously expecting a response.
“Yes, Durran, whatever you wish.” Her humbled words form naturally.
Dropping her jaw, Bodhi’s eyes betray a cruel glint. “You need a reminder of what I can do, and what is expected of you.” Violet flinches when the knife appears again in his hand, her eyes staring with trepidation.
And then Bodhi disappears.
Looking out, she remains hanging, alone and helpless to the world. Her arms stretched completely, her breasts bared, nipples pushing out stiffly. But Bodhi is still there.
Without warning Violet is pulled up again by her tender scalp, Bodhi’s invisible hand fisting her hair tight.
“You are mine, and I do what I wish”.
Bodhi takes a cruel little bite of Violet’s lip, drawing blood, then drops her, forcing a short cry of pain. She can’t see him, but feels him sneering. Bodhi’s body heat and breathing indicate a position in front of Violet, but she can’t anticipate his actions, his invisibility a blindfold.
Bodhi’s knife suddenly slashes down her neck and she tenses, yet feels no cut or trickle of blood, it was the blunt edge. But then his teeth close around the delicate column, pushing painfully against the existing marks of his possession. Violet closes her eyes, her body trembling against the threat, but then his tongue laves the area briefly before she feels the warmth of his mouth evaporate into the empty night air.
“You bare some of my marks, but it’s not just your pretty little neck that belongs to me.”
Bodhi’s breath dances across her chest and goosebumps erupt, following his murmured words. A sharp point suddenly presses against the top of her sternum, and she whimpers as blood slowly beads up from the tiny cut. Bodhi’s hot tongue licks out to catch the drops, and Violet’s body is left confused, terrified, aroused.
Bodhi’s knife presses in again above her breast, but not enough to break the skin. Jumping at the sudden sensation, Violet feels a large hot hand wrap around her rib cage, stabilizing her as Bodhi’s mouth suctions a painful bruise at the spot. Then his heat vanishes, Violet left guessing what comes next, until a swipe of metal grazes across her nipple. It’s sudden, but not painful, and the bud stands taller, demanding more attention. Then, on the inside of her other breast, the knife pierces a small cut, and Bodhi’s hot mouth encloses it, suctioning another possessive mark. Violet almost cries out in pain, but it changes to a gasp of pleasure when Bodhi’s dexterous fingers pull at both nipples simultaneously, making it appear she’s arching out to nothing.
Bodhi continues the invisible sensual assault, piercing, lathing, threatening, teasing, marking.
Then Violet feels him step back before he reappears in front of her. Violet’s body is a riot of fear, anticipation, lust, and confusion. She can now look up to see Bodhi’s face smirking and admiring his handiwork, the pure domination hardening his features into something dangerously attractive. Her body twitches as she holds back from trying to rub against him, though her hardened nipples strain straight out, like beacons of her desire. He looks at her challengingly, expectantly, daring her to give in to her lust. She catches her moan before it can escape her lips.
Instead it’s, “Thank you Durran.” she quietly, obediently exhales.
Bodhi’s wolf-like smile reveals he’s not done yet. Violet’s not sure if she’s thrilled or terrified.