“It’s complicated.” He went to her bag and, rooting around inside her things, pulled out a water canteen. He unscrewed it, sniffed the contents, and then walked back to the river. He dumped the water that was in the canteen out and refilled it with river water. Then he moved to her side, kneeling beside her, and held the metal container out to her. “Besides…you doted on me while I was tied up. Don’t you want a turn?” He smirked.
“No. I really don’t.” She took the canteen and drank from it, grateful for the cold water. It helped push the bile back down to where it belonged. She studied him for a long moment. He was healing faster now that he was fed. The red, raw blotches of skin on his neck and face were no longer so prominent. The scars that ran down his cheek were thinner and smoother. His pale-yellow eyes were no longer so bloodshot.
It meant he was growing more dangerous.
“How do you feel?” He reached out and stroked her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The feeling of his sharp nails grazing against her skin made her shiver again. “Poor thing…you must be cold. So sorry, but your clothing was pretty well ruined.” His fingers wandered down her throat and ghosted over her collarbone. She was still just in the bindings she used to flatten her chest. His eyes drifted down to follow the path of his fingertips as they traced the edge of the bandages. “I didn’t think you’d be very pleased if I removed these, even if they’re soaked through with blood…”
The way his voice dropped low and grew thick made goosebumps explode over her. She swallowed again, feeling like butterflies were now trying to escape her abused stomach. “I—yes—please don’t.”
He sighed and shrugged. “Suit yourself. We’ll be home soon, and then I can rustle you up something more appropriate for you to wear.”
“Can you untie me?”
“Mm…no.” He grinned.
“But I’m no danger to you.”
“That’s not the point. I’m no danger to you either, yet you had a great deal of fun stringing me around for a few days.” He sat down on the ground beside her, his back against the tree, his arm touching her shoulder. He was a good six inches taller than she was.
“You really don’t understand, do you?”
“Understand what?” He arched a thin blond eyebrow at her. It was bisected with the scar that split his eye and left a small dimple on his lips.
“Why do you think I’m afraid of you, Rxa?” She took another sip of the canteen. After a pause, she offered it to him.
He took the container and sipped it himself. “I’m a hideous wretch who’s bent on destroying the world?”
She sighed. He really was a madman. “You eat people.”
“Sure, but—” He gestured idly with the canteen. “Only like—y’know—maybe twenty. That quillbeast over there doesn’t count.”
“You’re in command of an army filled with the monsters I’ve dedicated my life to protecting people from. You’re—”
“It’s revenge, then? You hate me because you hate the creatures I’ve been gifted? It’s not my fault I’m like this.” He pointed at her. “That’s hypocrisy. You ask me to give up my quest for revenge, but you get to keep yours? I didn’t ask to be a face-eating zombie god, sweetheart.”
She felt her eye twitch. She sighed and looked away. “You’re terrifying to me because you’re violent and insane.”
“Welcome to Under. Those are prerequisites for joining the club.”
“Then I’m glad I’m mortal.”
“Me too.”
She glanced to him. “What?”
He handed her canteen back to her. She sipped the contents. The lip tasted just a little like the blood that was on his lips. “I’m glad you’re mortal. I’m glad you’re not from Under. It means you’re not corrupted like them. It means you’re innocent of the sins of the Ancients.” He hummed. “I wonder if that’s why Aon liked Lydia as a mortal so much, or if it’s because he liked to tie her up and do terrible things to a helpless human.” He grinned playfully at her. “It is kind of fun.”
“For you.” She shot him a glare.
“Exactly!” He laughed and shifted to face her. He turned her to him with the gentle press of fingertips to her cheek. “You would enjoy it if you let yourself…” He traced the line of her lower lip with the claw of his thumb before he settled the pad against the hollow of her chin. “I can make up for my disfigured body, Ember…I promise you that. I could bring you to such heights if you let me.”
“You’re not—”
She broke off in a squeak as he moved suddenly. He was so fast she had no time to react before he was straddling her thighs. When she went to shove him off—or at least to try—he caught her bound wrists in one hand and pulled them over her head, pinning them to the bark over her.
Lidded eyes dark with hunger, he trailed his gaze over her body and groaned low in his throat. “Oh, Ember…Look at you.”
“Get off me!”
His lips twisted into a grin. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you’re angry? You’re scowling at me like you want me to burst into flames. Don’t worry, little dove…I won’t hurt you. I can be a gentle lover. I can caress you like the sweetest prince. Although I think you might want me to be violent, don’t you?” He lowered his head closer to hers. “Do you like to be taken, pretty girl? Do you want me to hold you down and ravage you?”
Her face exploded in heat. She must be twenty-eight shades of red. She struggled, but he was too strong. He might as well have been a building on top of her, for how much she could budge him. “I don’t—”
“Liar.” He shushed her, placing his fingers to her lips. “I’m going to kiss you, Ember. But I’m going to let you wonder how.” She watched his fangs distend from his teeth, growing long and dangerous. “And where,” he purred with a wicked smile.
“No—I—”
Once more, she was moving against her will. He laid her down on the ground, pinning her arms once more over her head. He slipped a knee between hers and balanced his weight on his elbow, leaving his other hand free to trail sharp nails over her throat.
“I want you to tell me the truth, Ember—always. No more lies. No more hiding. Everyone has lied to me my entire life.” He grimaced briefly. “I was nothing but a falsehood. I need you to look at me—see me—and answer me truthfully. Can you do that for me? Please?”
She swallowed the rock in her throat and nodded weakly.
“Good…” He was wandering his fingers over her collarbone and throat in slow circles, up and down, making her shiver. “Am I repulsive to you?”
“No,” she whispered.
He smiled sadly. “Poor girl…must have been hard up for lovers in your old world. Ah, well. Better for me, I suppose.” His morose expression quickly faded, leaving only the strange, vicious lust she could see burning away in his pale-yellow eyes. His left eye was still split, as if it healed just slightly out of alignment, the circles not matching up quite right.
But it wasn’t disgusting to her.
May the old gods or the Ancients—anyone at all who might be listening—help her. Even the slight traces of crimson that streaked him, proof of the gruesome way he had been devouring the beast, didn’t bother her.
He was beautiful. He would be idyllic without the scars. For that reason, she preferred them—they made him reachable. They were the only things about him that made him anything but some terrible, vengeful god.
“Do you want me?” he whispered, watching her expression with the hunger of a starving man. As if his very being rested on a knife’s edge, waiting for her answer. “Please—I’m begging you—don’t lie.”
She hesitated. She gaped for a moment, trying to form words like a dying fish. The breath seemed to have rushed out of her lungs. “Are…are you going to rape me?”
“No. Never.” He wrinkled his nose. “I promised never to hurt you. Now…I do like me a good game or two. Like the one you were playing with me before. Like the one I’m playing now.”
Games
. This was all a game to him. “I thought you were—I thought my blood poisoned you.”
“Oh, it did. At least the first time. But the more I tasted you, the less it burned.” He grinned.
“You…were faking it?” Hopelessness crushed the air out of her lungs almost as if he had punched her. She had tried so hard, and it had all been a ploy. A diversion.
“Mmh. Mostly.” He frowned. “Oh, don’t make that face.”
“Why? But why?”
“You were so sweet to me.” He lowered himself closer to her. She turned her face away as he placed a kiss to her cheek. “You tended my wounds…comforted me…I’m afraid I couldn’t give up the chance for a little compassion after so long.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she resisted the urge to cry.
“You changed the subject.” He tapped the end of her nose with a sharp claw, making her jolt. “Do you want me, Ember?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh…that’s a yes.” He chuckled, a low rumble that reverberated through her. “That’s a resounding yes.”
“It—no, it’s not!” She glared at him furiously. “Let me go—get off me.”
He laughed louder, and taking her chin in his hand, turned her head to the side and kept it there. He whispered, his hot breath pooling against her skin, “You want me. But you fight it because it’s wrong—because of who I am. That’s all right. I can break down those walls in time. The important thing is that the spark is there. I’m more than happy to fan the flames until it consumes you…until it consumes us both.”
He nipped at her earlobe before pulling it into his mouth and biting down hard enough that it stung. She let out a small, choked cry as a feeling like ice water and electricity cascaded down her spine. Her body felt too cold and too hot all at once. Fear and traitorous excitement crashed through her, making her dizzier than she was before.
“Good…that’s it. Last time I drank from your throat, you were under my thrall. It dampened the experience.” He trailed his tongue along the skin of her neck, pausing to lavish the spot where he had bitten her before. “Now, there will be no excuse. Feel me, Ember. And feel what we can be together.”
And with that…he sank his fangs into her skin.
There was no pain.
No sting.
She arched her back off the ground, pressing her chest against his. A whimper left her as she felt something like liquid iron sear through her veins.
And then came the throb.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. And with each beat of the drum that was her life, he drank from her. She could feel the pull. The sensation of him consuming her.
Why does it feel so good?
She was left to writhe beneath him, unable to fight the pleasure that joined the heat that overcame her. She felt like she was sinking into the tide, helpless to fight the pull. Just a little more, and I might—
He removed his fangs from her throat. Lifting his head, he chuckled at what he must see. Her, lips parted, panting for air.
He smiled and licked his lips, her blood staining them a slight tone of pink.
Why did he stop…? She couldn’t form words as she watched him—the beautiful, terrifying creature over her that held her life in his hands. He could kill her at any moment. In a split second, he could tear out her throat and eat her heart from her chest like he did the quillbeast.
But he didn’t. He shifted, sitting on the ground, and lifted her up. Her hands fell weakly against his chest as he positioned her on his lap, straddling him. Her cheeks felt flush. Her whole body felt too warm. Her legs were around his waist like they were lovers.
He stroked her hair with one hand, nails combing through the strands and scraping lightly against her scalp until he reached her neck. Cradling her head gently, he wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close to him.
The smell of sandalwood was there again, tinged with the barest scent of blood. He bent his head to her throat, rolling his tongue along the wound he had just reopened.
She barely even felt his fangs reenter her. There was only bliss.
And then came that strange and bestial purr—that inhuman sound that came from him as he sipped from her. She could tell he was savoring her—taking his time—making her feel every second of it.
There was nothing she had ever experienced in her life that could compare to how it felt. The sensation of his heart beating in time with hers—falling into her rhythm as he took from her.
It was sensual. Primal. She wanted more. No, she needed more.
That simple word left her lips. Just a single, gasping syllable, betraying to him what she was trying too hard to hide, but was so obvious to him.
The purr turned to a growl as he bit down harder. The pleasure was edged suddenly with pain as he dug his other teeth into her skin, hard enough to bruise.
It was perfect.
She cried out, as it was too much for her. It left her grasping weakly at the bandages on his chest as ecstasy built into a crescendo that wiped away all her thoughts of right and wrong. Of if she should or shouldn’t.
There was only this moment.
And him.
And the feeling of him as he took her. White-hot pleasure burned through her and slowly faded. He pulled away from her, the purring sound growing in volume as he lapped at her wound. She felt lethargic. Exhausted and dizzy. She whimpered—it was the only thing she could do.
He cradled her head to his shoulder and shushed her. “Sleep, little dove…I have you.”
Her world dropped away to darkness.
11
Rxa untied Ember’s hands as she slept cradled against his chest. He might tie her back up later, but he needed her arms free so he could slip a coat over her. Now that he was fed, he could feel the edges of his power returning. It was changed—malformed and twisted like the rest of him—but power all the same.
But at least he could will items into existence once more. He had really, really missed being able to do that. He debated creating himself a new set of clothes as well, but decided he rather liked the bandaged look. It suited him.
But Ember would get cold, dressed like she was. He decided blue was her color and created a warm, long, blue peacoat that would fit her well. Carefully dressing her in it, he placed his back against a tree and held her in his arms once more.
A dark red splotch on her neck was beginning to grow—a wicked bruise in the shape of his teeth that surrounded the two pinprick dots left by his fangs. It would heal, but it would smart for a time. He smiled. He wasn’t ever one for marking his territory. He didn’t covet his lovers in such a way. That wasn’t why he found the bruise amusing.
She had wanted it.
“More,” she had whispered to him. And once he had dug his teeth harder into her tender skin, he felt her release, her body tensing as she let out a cry of ecstasy. How he wanted to keep her in that place, in the throes of bliss. But he couldn’t drink much more of her blood without her feeling the worse for wear.
It was selfish enough of me to bite her at all. But she’s so tasty! And…I mean, it was a good idea to make sure I was immune to her poison. And besides…um. He tried to come up with another excuse and failed.
Fine. He was being selfish.
He smirked and kissed the top of her head as he settled back against the tree, getting comfortable. Her forehead was against his neck, and he could imagine if he shut his eyes that they were summer lovers, enjoying each other’s company.
She’d wake up a little tired, maybe. It was better she got some rest. The horse was almost healed, and that meant they could get on their way soon. He was eager to be home. To really be able to take a moment to think. And to enjoy her company.
And to gather his army.
He could feel them stronger now—his drengil—buzzing away at the edges of his mind. There we so many more of them now. It was rather nice, having a hoard of monsters at his command that seemed quite happy to go about their day destroying the world without his di
rect intervention.
It meant he had plenty of time to be distracted.
He kissed the top of her head again, enjoying the smell of her hair. He had every intention of spoiling her rotten as soon as he had the chance. I can take my time ending the world. No reason to rush things.
Oh, he would still head south, even if Ember weren’t the one leading the way. He had his own reasons to go to the Temple of Dreams. There were a few royals hiding there that he needed to kill, after all.
And he would follow them wherever they ran.
Maverick walked along the line of the fallen. He sighed. Some of them were mortals—but most of the refugees from the blighted and devoured world of Gioll had the good sense to stay within Ini’s protective circle.
The rest wore ink upon their skin. Green. White. Blue. Purple. Black. Turquoise. Red.
Too many of them were gone now. Torn to pieces by the drengil—the “zombies” that had invaded their world at the command of the newly risen King Rxa.
It seemed like an inconsequential thing, these hordes of the risen dead. What possible threat could they pose against creatures such as they? Immortal, powerful things, many of whom were older than recorded history?
It seemed there was a great deal of damage they could do, indeed. For strength and might may be paramount—but strength in numbers seemed to be the key. The hawk chased away by the sparrows. The ants devouring a spider.
Pausing at the feet of one of the fallen who had been lined up along the side of the road, he frowned. He knew the young man. He served in his own house. A scribe and a scientist—one who had been working on creating a lightbulb that could mimic the glow of the Earthen sun. He wished to see if he could cultivate a “greenhouse” of Earthly plants for study.
Now, he stared up blankly at the stars. His jaw was missing entirely—the skin stretched and shredded as if someone had grabbed him by the bone and simply pulled it from his face. And Maverick knew that was precisely how it had happened.
The drengil fought mindlessly. They did not care for whom they harmed, or for their own survival. They only knew only the need to kill. To devour.
Grave of Words (Fall of Under Book 2) Page 9