by Kira Brady
His body was whole again. Not the full breadth of the Lady’s gifts, but his physical human form was completely his. He’d never appreciated it as he did now. Power ran through his muscles, strength as he flexed, the ability to run and fight and fuck. Nothing could stop him now that he could see.
He looked up from his hands and saw Lucia. “Lady be. Beautiful.”
A light pink washed over her elegant cheekbones. Her white hair cascaded down to cover her breasts, which hung free in the firelight, but it wasn’t long enough to hide below that, where the smooth curve of her belly flashed white and the soft V at the base of her thighs glinted with the light pelt of her femininity.
“If this very vivid dream is just another figment of my imagination, I hope to never wake up.” He swallowed. He’d learned her scent and touch and taste while he was blind, cataloged her every sound. But as sight, his strongest sense, came roaring back, he felt as if he were seeing her for the first time. Beautiful, not for the gentle innocence as he’d once thought, but for the ancient wisdom in her eyes, the grit hidden beneath her elegant skin, the confidence she’d earned with each step into the Land of the Dead. “You’d tempt a dead man.”
Her gaze dropped from his face down to the front of his trousers. “You seem very much alive.”
“Gods, yes.” There was a deeper sense about her, like a young plant that had taken to the soil and shot down new roots. “Forgive me. I can see I was wrong.”
“About?”
“I had some notion that innocence was fetching. That I should shield you from the world to preserve that carefree light of you. To keep you from becoming hard, cruel, like I had become. To keep you always safe, but that safety would seal you off from experiencing the fullness of the world, the sadness of the world.” Unable to help himself, he reached out and slid his fingertip along the smooth curve of her jaw. She had a tiny beauty mark to the right of her ear. Her lobes were detached, and a tiny bump of skin curved from the tip of her ear like the memory of some elfin ancestor. He pulled her hair back on the other side and found no small bump. They were mismatched, those ears. He’d never seen a more perfect pair.
She crossed her arms over her chest. His attention was drawn down to her perfect breasts, small and high, a handful, nothing more. “So now that I’m not innocent?”
She drew a smile from his lips. “You are a thousand times more bewitching. Damn, but I was an idiot. Hey, now.” He lifted her chin. “I can finally see you. Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m naked.”
“That fact has not been beneath my attention. Your body is beyond comparison.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “But hear me, love, were you a misshapen troll, you would still be more beautiful to me than moonrise.” His hunger grew. A wild thing, it was possessive, dominant. He’d always tried to shield her from the untamed part of him, but that was when the Aether and Raven had run beneath his skin. Now he could see he was just as much a danger. His senses were on overload, and he craved Lucia like the Lady Moon called to a marked Wolf.
And she knew it. She uncrossed her arms and let her hands fall to her lap, where they twisted together.
“Are you afraid?”
A little smile played at the edge of her mouth. “Terrified.”
He let his hand drift down over the edge of her jaw and along her neck, enjoying the way his touch made her shiver. His fingers played along the curve of her delicate shoulder and down her arm. She had a few freckles here too. Restraining himself, he leaned in and kissed one. Gently, gently. He would burn every mark on her into his memory to light his dreams.
Beneath long white lashes, her eyes flicked to his crotch and back. Her breath hitched in her chest. “So now that you can see . . .”
“I mean to take advantage of you.” He let his lips trail down to the racing pulse in the thin skin of her wrist. Her pounding blood made his breaths come harder, faster. The hunt, the race. The sweet takedown of his prey. Closing his eyes for a moment, he reined himself in. The iron control he’d cultivated for a century had been irreparably damaged on this journey. Could he even go back to the Living World and not be a threat to those around him?
“But the Scepter, the Enkidu, Tiamat—”
He placed his finger over her lips. “I can’t promise you tomorrow. I can’t protect you from what comes next, because I don’t know what we’ll face. The only guarantee I have is that the worst is to come.” He took her hand. “If I could guarantee your safety, I would. You have to know that. I would do anything to see you safe. But I was wrong. I was arrogant. I know now that I can’t control the future any more than I can change the past.”
Lucia blinked, a sheen in her eyes. “I don’t want empty promises.”
“The only promise I can make you is that whatever we face, we will face it together. I’ll not leave your side come hell or high water.” Tiamat would have to exterminate his soul entirely; if there were even a spark left, he’d come back to Lucia. Leaning forward, he kissed the tear that had escaped to trickle down her pale cheek.
“And now?”
“Tiamat can wait. I’m bloody scared of losing you.” The maze was quiet; he heard only the snap of the nearby wall of fire and the gentle buzz of the night. “We have a few minutes together before the next task. Spend them with me.” He forced his body to relax, to appear unthreatening even as adrenaline pumped through him. “Please.” A slow smile spread across her face. It eased the fear he saw mirrored there: miles to go, battles to fight. It wouldn’t be an easy victory even with the Scepter. “A few minutes, huh? Promises, promises.”
He had to laugh. “My lady, let me show you just what I can do with a few minutes. I promise to make them ones you’ll never forget.”
She took his hand and pulled it to her breast. Her hand crushed his, hard, around her soft flesh. “Don’t hold back. Don’t be gentle.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking—”
“If I’m going to be true to myself, it’s only fair you do the same. No more hiding. You say you see me, but what about you? You’re a dominant man, Emory, even without your animal side. I can take it.”
Corbette dropped his hand from hers and stood up.
Disappointment flashed over her features, but she firmed her shoulders. “Don’t hide from me, Lord Raven.”
“Lady be, and you’d think I was doing it just to torment you. Don’t you see? These shields are all that keep me together. I am not human.”
She rose too. The sight of her naked skin and those mile-long legs made him want to sink into a kneel and beg her to have mercy on him. But she asked for something he couldn’t give. “You have no Aether to speak of. You can’t lose control and hurt me—”
“I can’t?” Anger growled in his throat. He took a step toward her, toe to toe, and let her feel the energy coursing through him. “This oh-so-Aetherless body isn’t powerless. I can’t fry you to bits, but I’m still more than capable of breaking you in two.”
“I trust you.”
“You’re a fool.”
“Maybe you’re right. But better a fool than a coward.” She stared up at him, feet planted, lit from behind by the wall of flame, and naked as a jaybird. She looked like an avenging goddess. “I trust you. Let go and show me the beast inside. Break it all down for me, for if we are to go anywhere from this point, there can be no lies between us. I won’t return to the way things were—”
“I would never ask you to.
“—and so here is where I make my stand. Show me your worst. Show me your best. Show me all that is in you and all that you could still be, but don’t protect me in the dark any longer.” There was weariness in her eyes that tore at him. She’d shouldered so much of the burden leading him here, navigating over the sea and up the mountain, banishing Rudrick without his help. He wanted to hold her and take away some of the pain, but she wouldn’t let him. “Don’t make me less than I am. I deserve better.”
He swallowed hard. If he thought letting her lead him through
fire was a leap of faith, he’d been wrong. He hadn’t seen the fire, and so had little fear of the unknown. But this—he knew the deep madness inside himself, and that wild abandon scared him more than an army of Tiamat’s racing across the mountains. “Yes.” The word grated through his system and cut every control he’d bound himself in on the way out. It freed him. “Yes. You do.”
Her inhalation brought the tips of her rosy nipples into contact with his skin. It was the lightest touch, but enough to snap the last restraint inside him. He leaned down and took her mouth. Let go? She would regret those two little words. Holding nothing back, he let her see the full force of his power, the full might of his body, the intense need she kindled inside him, and his intent to let this fire rage through them until they were nothing more than smoking husks.
Sucking in her bottom lip, he slid his teeth along the sensitive skin. With a little moan, she melted into him, her curves molding perfectly to his hard body. It stoked the fire in his veins. How could he have ever thought he wanted a wisp of a proper Kivati lady? The Spider had sent him exactly what he needed—a woman who could meet him as an equal at every level. Lucia bended like a willow, and the last vestiges of his fear gave way to something sweeter: the knowledge that she could take everything he could give and still not break. He’d been too blind to see the gift right in front of him. Thank the gods for second chances.
Corbette slid his hands over the curve of her ass and lifted her to fit snugly against his hard cock. He let his tongue make love to her mouth while the V of her thighs rubbed against him. It was a preview. A promise. She melted beneath his onslaught, sending a thrill of domination through him. This. This is what he needed: to take her with everything in him until he was wrung dry.
He reveled in the damp heat and the smell of her feminine arousal that bit the night. “Gods, Lucy. Get on your knees.” Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed. He wanted to watch her take him in her mouth and feel that soft pink tongue and the back of her throat. A question danced in her eyes. “You said to show you all of me. The gloves are off. I’ll have your surrender.”
She hesitated only a fraction before sliding down his body and dropping to her knees, her face turned up to him exposing the long line of her throat.
“Trust me to take care of you, Lucy. I’d never hurt you.” He unbuttoned his trousers. She watched his fingers move and swallowed. “Trust me to see to your pleasure.” He dropped the pants over his lean hips, baring himself to the wind, to the heat of the fire at his back, to her piercing gaze.
The reflection of the flames danced in her eyes. “I trust you.”
“Open your mouth.” The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and even though the dominant part of him wanted to assert his control, that small vulnerable move broke him. He dropped to the ground in front of her and seized her biceps. “You are magnificent.” He took her mouth in a soul-searing kiss and chased the question from her eyes. She met him, tongue for tongue, thrust for thrust, driving him higher, winding him tighter, until his body vibrated and the sky started to spin. He broke away, chest heaving.
“Was that a test?”
“Touch yourself.” He brought her hand down to the crux of her thighs and laced their fingers together. Together, they spread the soft curls and found the small nub of nerves hidden like an egg in the nest. He brushed his knuckles over it, feather light, and her body shuddered. “That’s it, love. Gods, you’re so wet already. Come for me.” He guided her hand to slide her wetness across the lips of her femininity, circling around but not entering the place she wanted. She tugged her hand in his toward her entrance, but he only smiled and held back. He took one of her fingers and pressed it to her core, slowly, slowly, gliding it around and across, teasing her until the glade was permeated with the scent of her arousal.
A frustrated moan broke from her throat.
“You will come when I say you can come.” He hoped she heard the deadly intent in his voice, because she had let this monster free. He would show her what it meant to love the true heart of the Raven Lord. He settled her fingers to press the bud and with his other hand he pinched her tight nipple. Her body jerked forward. “Not yet,” he ordered. “Not yet.”
“Please—”
He let go and pulled her fingers away from her core. “Do you want me?”
“Yes.” The word was a moan.
Laying her on her back, he replaced her fingers with his own. “Then surrender.” He bit her breast lightly and then kissed the brief pain away, ran his tongue along her navel and over the soft curve of her belly, all the while keeping pressure on her clit. He could tell she wanted to move. She fought the control, an instinctive need to see to her own desire, and he couldn’t fault her for that. He admired her strength, her ability to stand on her own two feet. But in this—in this he would teach her body to obey him. He would light a fire of need in her that would heed no one else. He would feed those flames until they consumed her, and then he would drive her over the brink until she craved only him. Until her body remembered down to its last atom that only his touch could bring it that ultimate pleasure. Until she collapsed, happily sated by his hand alone.
Chapter Seventeen
An onslaught of sensation, trembling limbs. Lucia had craved to be taken by the Raven Lord with no holds barred. No retreat, no half measures. She would never be able to hold her head up in the Land of the Living until she looked into the black heart of the man and knew she could hold her own. But, oh, there was no going back from this razor edge.
Trust, it came down to, was a fragile word. She’d ordered him to stop fighting his nature, and now he held her on the cusp of something vast and wonderful. His thumb pinned her like the talons of a hawk. His scent, crisp rain and rich earth, seduced her nose. The press of his knee between her spread legs and the heavy fall of his muscles as he lay half over her were enough to send her head reeling.
And then he shifted his body lower and replaced his thumb with his tongue. Her hips launched off the ground. He settled his hand over her navel and pressed down. Anchoring her, he feasted, touching, tasting everywhere and everything except the empty place that clenched for him. She writhed, every nerve begging for release.
“Not yet,” he breathed against her curls.
She whimpered.
His mouth left her, and he sat up, eyes midnight black, sculpted body carved of firelight and madness. “Turn over,” he ordered.
Limbs like jelly, she struggled to make her body obey. He didn’t help, but watched, his eyes touching every curve and valley of skin. Stripping her of all secrets. She was no more than blood and bone and endless need. With her ass in the air, her vulnerability shifted to the surface of her brain once again. But as the bubble of conscious thought lifted and broke, she found she didn’t care. Please, she moaned in her mind, and further words were untouchable. Aching, she stretched back, offering herself to him in unspoken plea. He wound his fingers in her hair, pulling back almost to the point of pain, anchored her hip with his other hand, and filled her with one long, blinding drive. A scream rent the night, and it might have been her own, but all she knew was the feeling of fullness, stretched to the limit. Her inner muscles clenched around his intrusion, every nerve ending blazing.
“Not yet.” His words were a distant roll of thunder, but her body obeyed. “Not until you let go of every last scrap of fear. Not until your body trusts me as much as your reasoning does. Not until you submit—not out of fear, but out of the knowledge that I will fulfill your every darkest fantasy and bring you skyrocketing back to the light. You are Lucia Crane, the Harbinger, a goddess who walks the Living World, and you are mine.” He pulled out and thrust again on the beat of that last word, and his possession twisted her to a blazing plateau. The world dissolved into colors: silver and ember and deep cerulean. Her skin thinned to parchment with every stroke, until the color of her own soul rolled out of her in a cloud of powdered paint.
“Now!” he ordered and thrust, and she broke ap
art in one shining nova of a dying star.
Kai walked through the Needle Market, barely seeing the mostly empty stalls and the handful of anxious shoppers bidding hungrily on scraps of last year’s food. As he passed a grimy black tent that reeked of vinegar, Constance slipped next to him.
“I got your note,” she said.
He didn’t answer. He stopped at the tent and surveyed the stall stacked with jars full of murky greenish liquid.
“Pickled spleen,” the shopkeeper barked out from where he stirred a steaming pot of vinegar over a fire. Above his head sat a row of pickled fetuses. “Five gold pieces.”
“Human?” Kai asked.
The shopkeeper squinted at him and nodded. Maybe he’d lie to the next customer, but not to Kai.
Next to him, Constance fidgeted. Her nervousness made him angry. He turned his back on the shop and strode down the line of stalls. “How did you find out your half-Kivati, half-Drekar baby had a soul?” he asked.
Constance tripped. “Not here. Not—”
He spun and grabbed the front of her shirt. “Enough hiding already. I know Lucia isn’t your child.”
“No!” Constance spluttered, but Kai shook her once, and she dropped her head. The Needle Market patrons looked the other way. No one would lift a hand if he broke her neck right there. That thought was enough to sober him, and he set her down and took a step back. He breathed deeply through his nostrils and tried to find some semblance of peace.