by Carol A Park
Her breath caught in her throat. Those words were too familiar. “Your pardon?”
He touched her face again, this time moving his hand to push her hair back, and then cradle the back of her head. “It could be different, this once. For me. For us.”
“Just a little longer, love, and you’ll see. We can be together.”
She laughed, and it came out sounding more nervous than she had wanted. “You just finished enumerating all the reasons you never sleep with a woman more than once, and now you’re telling me you’ve changed your mind?”
His eyes flashed eagerly. “But that’s just it. You and I…we’re different. I know you won’t ever expect or want anything more from me.” He hesitated, and then placed one hand on her waist again. “When we finally go our separate ways, or when we get tired of each other—whichever comes first—we can mutually part and it won’t matter. No broken hearts. No unfulfilled expectations.” He let his hand drift up again. “We’re the perfect lovers, Ivana, for as long as we have each other.”
But it was different. It was different, wasn’t it? He wasn’t promising her forever, and she didn’t want forever. She just wanted to be known…
His hand reached her side and hovered there. Almost tentative—a question.
The warmth that had been pulsing through her body grew more insistent, drowning out the voice of warning in her head.
It took sheer force of will to stop herself from turning reflexively toward his touch.
Ivana ran her tongue along her lips, and he watched her, hunger in his eyes. And then he looked back up at her, met her own eyes. “When is the last time you did this for yourself?” he whispered.
That broke her. She closed her eyes and sank against him. “I hate you,” she said, and then opened her eyes and looked back up at him.
He smiled and touched her face with his free hand. “That’s what I’m counting on.” And then he kissed her again.
Vaughn had broken Sweetblade, the hardened assassin, and his head was still spinning from the achievement. She melted into him, casting off any lingering pretense of resistance, parting her lips to allow his tongue to sweep into her mouth.
This was quite possibly the worst decision he had made in his entire life.
He was going to get what he wanted, and the cost was going to be enormous.
But he couldn’t stop himself. Against all odds, he had convinced her, and now she was offering herself to him. He couldn’t change his mind now. Right?
No. No way he could change his mind now. His mind was fogging, and any semblance of rational thought was already fleeing.
He untied her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. Though he half-expected her to shrink back, changing her mind as their dalliance grew more heated, she didn’t. She merely exhaled as his hands explored her body with one less layer of fabric between them and her flesh.
She tugged his shirt off and ran her hands across his chest.
No. She was serious.
He kissed her again. Her obvious pleasure intoxicated him further, in a way a woman’s pleasure never had.
He was losing himself in her, to her, and he felt like he needed a reminder of the terms of their engagement. He slid up, pressing himself close against her, sighing at the warmth of her body against his, and he kissed his way around to her ear.
“You don’t have to worry,” he whispered. “I never tell a woman I intend to bed that I love her.”
He might as well have punched her. Ivana shoved him back and slithered away from him. “Get out,” she hissed.
He stumbled back, blinking, obviously stunned. “What?”
“Get. Out.”
“Don’t worry, I never tell a woman I intend to bed that I love her…”
“I love you. Just a little longer, and we can be together.”
He was so different from his brother, that he was in reality just like him. She didn’t even know if that made sense logically, but it was what she felt.
He still didn’t move. His eyes flicked across her, and he licked his lips. “I don’t understand.”
She bent down and picked up his shirt, and then hurled it at him and went to the door. “I don’t know how to make myself more clear.”
He caught the shirt, but his face was pained as he adjusted himself. “Ivana…please…”
“You have a hand, and I’m sure you know how to use it.” She threw open the door and pointed to the hallway. “Get out of my room and stay out.”
He stared at her, mouth open. “Do you want me to tell you I love you?”
She didn’t have the energy for an explanation. She didn’t even know if she had one. All she knew was that this had been a terrible idea, and its fulfillment would come at too high an emotional cost. She couldn’t afford such a cost, not now, not ever.
She couldn’t be that person again.
“No. I want you to leave.”
He slowly pulled the shirt back on, seeming to finally believe her. He started to speak as he went out the door, but then shook his head, and left.
She closed the door behind him and then leaned against it, eyes closed. She had let him seduce her. She had allowed him to make her vulnerable, and in that state she had dared to reach for the unattainable—and yet what she feared more than anything: to stand unmasked, and perhaps in that terrifying state, find a way to be whole again.
But she would never find either in his—or any man’s—arms.
She slid down the door and put her head against her knees. She may have hated him, but even more, she hated herself.
He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. She had let this go on for too long, had let him get to her because he was right: the old Ivana was still buried inside her, deep down, and she wanted out.
Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen. She wouldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable again. She would rescue her girls, and then that person would die, once and for all.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Servants of Danathalt
Vaughn had no idea what had just happened. It was obviously the comment about never telling a woman he intended to bed that he loved her, but that made no sense. Why in the abyss would that matter? It was intended to reassure her—and himself—not upset her.
Damn woman. Damn women! Damn all of them. He pounded his fist into the wall once, and then strode down the hall toward his own rooms, fully intending on taking Ivana’s biting advice.
He was stopped a few steps from his door. “Vaughn? Vaughn!”
He turned. “What?” he snapped.
A young researcher he had seen around, but didn’t know well, halted, seeming taken aback by his tone. “Uh, thought I’d find you in your room, not wandering the halls.” He paused. “What are you—?”
“Never mind,” Vaughn growled, mood darkening every moment he was being kept from relieving his aching loins.
“We need you down in research,” the researcher said.
Xavin. That was his name. “What in the abyss could you possibly need me for in research at this time of night?”
“That woman is acting crazy.”
“Great. And the grass is green.”
“She’s asking for you.”
What in the— Vaughn gritted his teeth. “Can’t this wait?”
“She’s being quite…insistent.”
Superb. Just superb. Vaughn put one hand against the wall and leaned forward, taking several deep breaths, and then pushed himself back. “Fine.”
By crazy, they meant she was throwing things around her cell again, including herself. And howling. And screaming vulgarities at the top of her lungs. He could hear her all the way down the hall.
The moment she laid eyes on Vaughn, she stopped, and smiled sweetly. “Ah,” she said. “I knew that would eventually work. People will do almost anything to make someone stop acting insane.”
Vaughn fingered the syringe he held behind his back. “I’m in no mood for your games,” he said. “What do you want?”
> “They’re going to try and kill me,” she stated calmly, as if she had been commenting on the amount of wildflowers that had grown in the upper field that year.
Vaughn started and glanced toward Xavin and now Saylyn, who were watching from the now-broken window. Xavin and Saylyn exchanged glances and then shrugged. Didn’t hear it from us, the gesture said.
“You want me to sympathize?”
“No. I want to tell you that they won’t succeed. They can’t hold me back. And even if I die, another will rise in my place.”
Vaughn shivered. Was this a promise from a crazy woman, or a threat from Danathalt? “Look, woman. If you don’t have anything useful to say, I have other things I could be doing—”
“Do you know why I called you here?”
“I have no idea,” Vaughn said. He was about ready to plunge that syringe into her neck, immediate threat or not.
“Because I like you.” She smiled again, and it was half-coy and half-grotesque. “I just wanted you to know that. It’s nothing personal, you understand, not between Thaxchatichan and I. And for what it’s worth, I hope you survive.”
“Great,” Vaughn said. “Got it.” He turned and left the room, handed the syringe back to Xavin, and started to head back down the hall. Damned crazy woman. Crazy just like the rest of them, just a different kind of crazy. Waste of—
The alarms started ringing.
Within minutes, there were people rushing down the halls, shouting, strapping on weapons—pulling on pants as they ran. It was the middle of the night, after all.
Vaughn stopped in his room for his bow and quiver and followed the increasing stream to the hidden entrance. It didn’t take long for him to hear the rumor that this attack would be much worse than the others—combined.
It also didn’t take long for him to realize why.
The moment he stepped outside, he could hear them. The scrabbling of needle-legs. The howling. The screeching. The growling.
It sounded like every damn bloodbane she had summoned thus far had made an appearance, and possibly more.
He sprinted for the wall, took the stairs two-by-two, laying an arrow to his string as he ran.
Tharqan was already on the wall, an arrow held loosely to his bowstring, but he hadn’t drawn it. He was staring.
Vaughn joined him—and stopped breathing.
Bloodcrabs scuttling back and forth. Bloodwolves pacing. Bloodhawks circling the forest. New monsters as well. He saw at least one bloodgiant—a distant and thankfully smaller relative of the behemoth that had attacked them in the city, but still plenty dangerous. They liked to stalk travelers in the Dusty Hills, throwing boulders down on their heads in narrow passes—and then feasting on their flesh.
Bloodspiders with their poisoned fangs. The spiders themselves were only the size of dinner plates, but one bite from those fangs would leave a grown man convulsing and dead within an hour if he didn’t receive the antidote. They didn’t even congregate in this part of the continent, preferring to inhabit the humid forests to the east, dropping on unwary passers-by.
Bloodbats, normal-sized, but a spelunker’s nightmare. They didn’t let go once attached.
Even bloodrats. Individually, they were merely a nuisance, but in number they were deadly to anything—or anyone—they swarmed.
Creatures they had no name for—unlike any he had ever seen before—all of them terrifying.
And they weren’t attacking yet. They were congregating: pacing, chittering, growling and snapping when they saw people on the walls, but staying put.
It was like a scene from a nightmare. It was a nightmare.
He lifted his bow and sighted the nearest bloodwolf, but hesitated. Tharqan looked at him. “I haven’t attacked yet,” he said. “I’m afraid doing so will break whatever it is that’s holding them back.”
Vaughn didn’t know what they were waiting for—but whenever they decided to attack…
Tharqan was right. Not worth risking it. He lowered his bow and glanced back at the manor house. Lights glowed in a few of the windows; either the bloodbane had been noticed, or someone had alerted the staff.
Then he flicked his eyes down to the courtyard, to discern how organized they were this time. The training had apparently been beneficial; it looked like they were in units.
Good. Maybe that meant they had a strategy.
He turned back to the horrors outside the wall. Other archers had joined them on the wall and were spreading out, but all held, following Tharqan and Vaughn’s lead.
It was only after they were in position that a tall figure strode to the front of the pack of monsters. At first glance, he looked human, with human clothing and long, black hair tied back. But he then turned his face toward those watching on the wall.
This was no human—at least, no living human. His skin had the pallor of a corpse, and his eyes were the white, pupil-less orbs of all bloodbane.
He looked directly at Vaughn and smiled.
The monsters stilled, waiting.
Vaughn’s heart started beating faster. He didn’t know what this creature was, but it seemed to have control of the others, and that couldn’t be good.
“Servants of Ziloxchanachi!” the corpse-thing cried, lifting its arms in the air. Its voice was melodic, strangely soothing, and carried easily. “Your declaration of hostility has not gone unnoticed. Consider this a warning.”
What the—? It talked? Since when did bloodbane talk?
The corpse left its arms up, and an expectant hush fell over all those gathered there. And then it dropped them.
Vaughn’s first arrow was flying through the air before the corpse’s hands had returned to its sides. Time slowed, and it seemed like Vaughn could watch the progress of its flight. The corpse cocked its head, also watching the arrow. The moment before it would have pierced it in the heart—assuming it had one—a bloodhawk swooped down in front of it, taking the arrow through the wing instead.
The corpse smiled, shook its head, and disappeared into the advancing throng.
Vaughn cursed. Waste of a good arrow.
Time returned to normal, and the abyss broke loose.
At first, Vaughn thought they might barely have the upper hand. The archers collectively knocked three bloodhawks out of the air almost immediately, along with their charges—bloodcrabs carried again in each claw. The first coalition of bloodbane sent to take down the wall, led by the bloodgiant, faltered at another hail of arrows.
But it didn’t take long to realize that while they had the initial edge, they were far outnumbered. And unlike their previous encounters with the monsters, they were learning.
Bloodhawks started dodging, wheeling and turning in the air, swooping at the archers themselves, causing them to reel back or even flee from the wall. One went down—the bindbloods were tending to him already.
Only Vaughn and Tharqan had a hope of hitting the bloodhawks with their new maneuvers, and Tharqan had the disadvantage of not being a moonblood—for the enhanced sight as well as the ability to confuse the creatures by turning invisible.
Vaughn had the disadvantage of not being able to be everywhere at once.
And he couldn’t stop the spiders. Dozens came, climbing over the dead bodies of the bloodwolves and bloodgiant who had tried to ram it down by brute force, up the walls.
Archers backed away as the creatures came, which allowed the remaining bloodhawks free reign to fly right over their heads and drop their packages inside the walls.
Shouts rang out from the courtyard below, but Vaughn didn’t have time to look. A half-dozen spiders had just crested the wall, ten feet from where he stood. They took a few seconds to congregate, and then they headed right for him.
He backed away, shooting arrows as quickly as he could, but they were too fast. He cringed back right before they reached him, expecting the bites of dozens of fangs—
Fire exploded in front of him, licking at his face, causing him to stumble back in shock, almost off the edge of the w
all. Thrax gripped his arm, pulling him upright.
The spiders had collectively burned to a crisp.
“You singed my eyebrows!” Vaughn accused Thrax.
Thrax barked a laugh, slapped him on the back, and then jogged back down the wall, looking for more creatures to set on fire.
Vaughn’s attention was drawn by another group headed toward the wall. A second bloodgiant, and a half-dozen bloodwolves. This time, the bloodgiant was carrying a huge wooden shield, blocking Vaughn from finding a good shot.
The aether arrows might excel at cutting through monster hide, but they could be stopped by a thick piece of wood as much as any arrow.
So he started on the wolves.
The wall vibrated as the bloodgiant rammed into it. It wouldn’t take much to breach, and, desperate, Vaughn took down two of the bloodwolves closest to him, and then shot at the bloodgiant’s exposed leg.
The giant howled, but shook the pain off like it had been stung by a bee, and if anything, renewed its attack with more vigor.
Another vibration.
“They’re going to break through!” he warned anyone who could hear him below, though they had their own troubles, by the looks of it.
A glance told him that spiders were spreading out over the courtyard, bloodhawks were diving at prey, and bloodcrabs were chasing down men and women in pairs, separating them from their comrades.
Thud.
He shot the last bloodwolf that was with the giant, but the giant was still going strong. If there were more bloodwolves—and Vaughn had a suspicion there were—they were hiding in the forest now.
Smart. Waiting until the giant broke through. How and when had they grown so intelligent?
Tharqan had tried to get him from the other side, but a swarm of bloodbats dove at him. He flailed with his arms, almost losing his bow, trying to keep them back by causing turbulence in the air where they flew. Vaughn watched helplessly. He couldn’t shoot an arrow into that; even if he could hit the bats, he would chance hitting Tharqan.