“Uh, Timothy, sir,” said the servant.
“Timothy,” said the emperor, smiling. “If my son doesn’t show up looking presentable at the wedding, I’ll have your head.”
Timothy gulped.
Gabriel gritted his teeth.
The emperor clapped him on the shoulder and went on his way, whistling.
Timothy took Gabriel by the arm. “Come sir, we must get you to the bath.”
“He was joking,” said Gabriel. “He won’t kill you.”
“I don’t know,” said Timothy. “He seemed pretty serious to me. Anyway, I don’t plan to find out.”
Gabriel sighed. “Fine. A quick bath, then.”
But the bath turned out to be anything but quick, and his servants took forever dressing him for the wedding, claiming that he had to look his best.
By the time he got free of them, he knew in his heart that it was too late, but he had to keep trying. He went looking for Michal and found her in in the holy meeting hall, where the wedding would be performed.
She was in the back room in her long, pretty white dress. Her hair had been curled, and it fell down around her shoulders like a dark curtain. “It’s okay, Gabriel,” she whispered.
“It’s not,” he said. “There’s still time, you know. We could leave. Come with me. I’ll get you out of here.”
She pulled aside her dress and took out a small dagger that she had hidden there. “I have this.”
“He’s twice your size! You won’t be able to hurt him.”
“What if I won’t have to?” She gave him an earnest look. “Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me. Maybe I’ll be fine.”
“Michal—”
“It could be okay,” she said. And she smiled at him.
Damn it if she didn’t look a little bit, well… excited.
CHAPTER TEN
Darius stood at the front of the holy meeting hall in his long, black robe. He was waiting. The hall was packed full of people, all of whom were staring at him and whispering. He was quite the curiosity to the people in the capital, and none of them could keep their eyes off him. It only bothered him so badly because he could smell the crush of all of those people, and it was driving him frantic.
He had no idea how he’d kept himself in check thus far. Maybe it was Simon and his threats. Simon kept telling him what he would do to Darius if he failed him. He talked about tying Darius down and carving him up, one piece at a time. Cutting off fingers and toes and then limbs. And then your black cock, Simon hissed. I’ll stuff it in your mouth and choke you with it.
Darius knew that he’d live through all of that. There was only one way to kill him now, just as there was only one way to kill a revenant. His brain must be destroyed.
Still, he wasn’t exactly frightened of Simon. He wasn’t sure if he could feel fear anymore. But the thought of being carved up was unpleasant. Maybe it was the reason that he held back.
Darius didn’t think so, however.
He was fairly sure he was holding out for Michal.
He knew that if he gave in and bit someone, he’d never get the chance to be alone with her. But if he played the game, went through the marriage ceremony, and waited, they would be alone. She’d be presented to him for their wedding night.
And then he could…
He trembled at the thought of all the things he wanted to do to her. Taste her, whispered a dark voice at the back of his brain. Put my teeth in her.
He didn’t want her to die. He really didn’t. But he was dead already, and he was never going to be able to hold out forever. At one point, he was going to bite someone. It was only a matter of time. Then they’d kill him. So, this way seemed like the most pleasurable way to end it. If he was choking on his own cock afterward, at least he’d have the memory of seeing Michal’s skin—all of her skin.
Abruptly, the music changed.
She’s coming, thought Darius.
And yes, all of the people in the meeting hall stood and turned to the back of the room.
Michal appeared on the arm of her father the emperor. She wore a white dress. She was shrouded in a veil, but he could see her bare arms, dark curls falling out of the veil and bouncing as she moved.
Her hair was down. He sucked in breath. He’d forgotten that it would be that way. Women always kept their hair up except during the wedding ceremony.
And in bed, whispered the voice at the back of his brain. She’ll take her hair down for you at night.
No, she wouldn’t. There would only be one night, and after that, she’d be destroyed. There was no way she’d survive the things he wanted to do to her.
He looked down at his shoes, and he didn’t look back up until he heard the voice of the holy man who was officiating the wedding. His voice was a drone, and he plowed through the words. “Dearly beloved, we are here to join Michal of Sarrasarra and the Necromancer Darius in matrimony, which is thought to be honorable among all men, and therefore is is to be entered into reverently. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” Now he paused, waiting for a response.
Darius looked out at the gathered people, who were all seated again. They were silent.
Michal and her father stood below him, several steps down from the pulpit.
Darius pulled air in through his nose, wanting to catch the scent of her. But when he did, he wished he hadn’t. Though faint, it was intoxicating, and he wasn’t sure if he could resist it. He began to tremble again.
The holy man spoke again. “Who gives this woman to be wedded to this man?”
The emperor nudged Michal forward. “I do.”
The holy man nodded and motioned for Michal to approach. She stepped up onto the raised dais where Darius waited. She faced him, but he couldn’t make out her features through the veil. The scent of her was stronger now. She smelled rich and delectable, like a sweet dessert used to smell when he was human. Cinnamon and vanilla, caramel and cream. His breathing grew erratic, and he dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from moving.
The holy man was droning on in the background. “For this state shall a man leave his mother and father and cleave to his wife, forsaking all others for her. And they twain shall be one flesh, for it is written that man cannot live by bread alone, but by the fellowship therein of women and the love of his God. Thus sayeth the Lord, who looks upon all and is well pleased.”
Darius tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. She smelled so very, very sweet.
The holy man turned to Darius. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Darius tried to swallow again.
The holy man raised his eyebrows.
“I do.” Darius’s voice was a croak.
“Repeat after me,” said the holy man.
And Darius found himself parroting the familiar words, promising to have and to hold from this day forward, to love and to cherish until death did them part. And that will happen soon enough, he thought grimly.
The holy man then went through the whole rigmarole with Michal, and Darius stared at her through her veil, remembering her features, remembering how pretty she was. And struggling not to smell her, not to rip her apart at that very moment.
The holy man cleared his throat. “By the power vested in me by the Empire of the Life and the Lord God in Heaven, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Darius stood there like an idiot. Kiss her? But she was wearing that veil.
Seconds ticked by.
It was ridiculous anyway. He couldn’t kiss her. He’d bite her face off.
The holy man leaned close. A strained whisper: “Lift her veil.”
Darius gave him an alarmed look. He was meant to be that close to her? He… he couldn’t.
But then he did. His limbs moved through the space between them, and he was almost graceful. He fingered the edge of the
veil, touching the delicate lace, and then he pulled it up over her face, revealing her to him once and for all.
Mine, he thought.
And he put his lips on hers.
Quick—just a touch, a brush, her warmth against his lack of it, the scent of her overpowering and intense, like being buried in sweet nectar and lush, ripe fruit.
He recoiled from her, yanking himself away.
Not yet, he urged himself. If you can just wait, you can see all of her. He was past caring about the right and the wrong of it now. He didn’t care if he hurt her, if he killed her. He had to have her. But he wanted all of her. He wanted to take his time. The wedding night meant it would be private, just her and him alone, no witnesses. He could go as slow as he needed—savor it. If he tasted her now, they’d pull him off of her in seconds.
The holy man turned them to face the congregation. “I now present to you these who were separate, but now made one flesh in the sight of God and all gathered here. May the Lord bless them to accept their new state and to transcend their troubles into his welcoming bosom.” The holy man took their hands and put them together.
At the sensation of her soft flesh under his fingers, a frenzied yearning rose up in him, and it took all his willpower to shove it down inside himself.
The holy man’s voice rang out. “What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen.”
* * *
Michal watched the sun sink lower into the sky. It was nearly time for the test to begin. She’d been numb and quiet during the wedding feast, barely touching the food. The necromancer had sat next to her stiffly, hiding behind his black hood. He never looked at her, and he never touched her.
During the ceremony, when she’d still been wearing her veil, he’d stared at her plenty, and she’d seen that naked, raw need in the way he hungrily watched her. But afterward, he was quiet and tense. He didn’t eat either. But then, she wasn’t sure if necromancers did eat. Well, other than their wives, that is.
Now she was in a private room off the banquet room, staring out the window at the sunset. From here, she could see ocean, and she could see the path she would be taken down for her wedding night.
She and the necromancer would not be in a bed, not like a regular couple. Apparently, when these things went badly, the necromancer was likely to become crazed and go after the rest of the household. So long ago, a place had been established for the test.
Michal had been there. When she was a little girl, she and the other children in the mansion had gone down the path to the place. It was hidden in a grove of palm trees. There was a stretch of rock that jutted out over the water. It was flat on the top—flat and wide like the shape of a bed.
She and the children had gone out to the edge, and they’d seen the dark stains still etched into the rock, even after fifty years. You can’t get blood from stone, one of the other girls had said solemnly.
Michal was terrified. She should have run away, she realized. She should have taken Gabriel up on his offer and left this place. Maybe she still could. She could get away from her servants and take off through one of the hallways. She could—
But it was no use, because she couldn’t get herself to move. She was numb and still, and her servants were fussing over her, removing her wedding dress, washing her body, and then clothing her in a filmy little red robe. It fell open in the front, exposing her. She wasn’t allowed to wear anything under it, but when she walked, she could clutch it together so that she was covered.
Trouble was, of course, that she couldn’t walk.
And the other trouble was that it left nowhere to hide her knife. She wasn’t going to be able to smuggle a weapon inside after all. She couldn’t run away, and she couldn’t fight. This wasn’t good, was it?
She stared at the setting sun and the reddening sky, and she felt her heart began to thud faster and faster.
Run, she whispered to her limbs.
They didn’t move.
When it was time for her to go, they came for her, but she couldn’t move then either.
Her father’s face got red, and he began yelling at her, telling her that she had asked for this, and now she had to go through with it. She should stop trying to play on his sympathy. He couldn’t get her out of it now.
But Simon held up his hand to quiet her father. Her half-brother approached, and he put his head close to hers, as if sharing an intimate secret. “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you. I know it.”
She hated Simon, and she knew that he bore her no great love either, but she looked up into his eyes, and she was reassured, because she knew that if the necromancer failed, it would also mean that Simon failed. And Simon would never let himself fail.
So, she allowed herself to be led out of the room and out of the mansion, into the gathering dusk. The air was warm and balmy. The breeze was pleasant on her face. It blew her hair away from her neck. She gathered the robe close to her skin, and she walked.
They took her to the opening of the path.
She hesitated, but they told her that she must go down the path. They would not accompany her, but guards would stay at the end of the path in case the necromancer became dangerous and tried to hurt anyone else. He was already waiting for her.
She looked back at her father and Simon and the guards. Gabriel wasn’t there, and she wondered why not. The feast was still going on, and she knew that Gabriel loved feasts, but she couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t leave for this.
They must have kept Gabriel away somehow. They must have known he’d try to stop her.
“He won’t hurt you,” Simon said again.
She took a deep breath. She began to walk down the path.
The shadows of the trees swallowed her almost immediately. It was quite dark. She let go of her robe, letting it fall open as she continued her trip into the darkness.
And then she could see the light of the setting sun ahead and hear the sound of the sea, water colliding with the rocks.
He was standing at the edge. The reddish sky framed his form. He’d lowered his hood, and she could see that his head was shaved and smooth.
When she saw him, she stopped.
The sun was behind him, so he was nothing but a dark shadow, but it was illuminating her, and her robe was open. He could see everything.
She shivered in terrible pleasure. Some part of her was excited by how badly he needed her. Some part of her wanted to give herself to his hunger. It was a deep undercurrent, a shadowed corner of her soul. But it ruled her now.
He lurched forward, coming at her.
She was frozen for a second, then she stumbled backwards. She should run.
But he stopped. Suddenly.
And then she did too.
He was closer now, and she could make out his features better. He was exotic. His skin was so dark that it made the whites of his eyes look brilliant in comparison. His teeth too. Bright white. And his tongue was pink. He ran it over his white teeth.
“I thought they would drag you to me kicking and screaming,” he said, and his voice was deep and rich. It reached inside her body and curled around her spine. The sound of his voice—a purr, a growl, a roar—pulled her closer to him.
She approached. “I thought so too.” She sounded out of breath, as if she’d been running.
He raised his eyebrows. “But you come willingly?”
“I…” She didn’t know if she was willing or not. She only knew, now that she was closer, that he wasn’t wearing anything under his robe either. And she could see that the sight of her naked body had affected him.
She’d spent enough time with the married women in the castle, listening to their giggling conversations, to know things about men and their bodies and sex.
But she hadn’t known the necromancer would be interested in anything other than, well, eating her. Feeling emboldened by her observation, she tucked her robe back over her shoulders, exposing herself completely. She thrust her bare breasts at him, and she kept walking closer.
“You should keep your distance.” His voice was strangled.
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”
His tongue ran over his teeth again. Over his lower lip. She wanted to put her tongue on his lower lip.
She was close now. Four steps away. Three. Two.
His arms shot out to stop her, to hold her at arms’ length. “I’m sorry. You are very beautiful, and you don’t deserve a death like this. But you should know that I’m not going to be able to stop myself from doing it anyway.”
Her heart leapt. “What are you saying?”
He shut his eyes, tilting back his head, and breathed in through his nose. “You smell like cinnamon.”
Her legs felt weak.
He opened his eyes. “You should run.”
“Would you come after me if I did?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know. Probably.”
She eyed him. He was tall and powerful and muscular. “I think you’d catch me if you did.”
He smelled her again. He groaned. He shoved her.
She absorbed the impact. “Maybe it would be better just to get it over with.”
He took a shuddering breath.
“I mean, if you really can’t help it. Can’t you?” She gave him a pleading look.
He cast his gaze up at the darkening sky. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”
Oh, heaven help her, she felt a thrill of pleasure go through her at that. Things between her thighs clenched and released. She gasped. “Try not to let me suffer for too long.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s wrong with you?”
She wasn’t sure. She felt warm and slick and loose, and she wanted to surrender to him. She’d never wanted anything so badly.
“If you think that going along with it is going to change my mind…”
She shook her head. She stepped closer.
His eyes widened, and he groaned again. “You smell…” He grabbed her, tugging her body close.
She tensed in anticipation.
His hands ran over her body, fingers rippling over her shoulders and arms, her breasts, her rib cage, her hips.
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