Her cheeks were brighter now as she stared at him in nervous fear and…maybe just a little bit of excitement. He understood. To her, he was the enemy. She still didn’t understand that they were on the same side. That she would work to destroy Under if she could truly grasp how cruel it was. That the creatures that strolled around wearing masks were far more degenerate than the drengil she spent her life battling.
He reached out and placed his palm to her cheek, stroking his thumb along her. She was so beautiful. Her big, dark eyes. Her fascinating hair. She was a little too skinny for her frame—the curse of being habitually underfed. He would change that soon enough.
She shivered as he ran the point of the claw of his thumb along her lower lip. I’ve never kissed anyone. Not that I can remember. But maybe I’ll make an exception. “You should rest. I plan to tire you out. And besides…if you sit here and watch me, I’ll get distracted. I don’t think I’ll be able to resist sampling our very special dessert…and I’ll wind up burning the cheesecake.”
She shuddered, her eyes growing wider as she caught his meaning. When he lowered his voice and let it grow husky and warm, she responded so sweetly. Like a deer in the woods, frozen by the growl of the wolf.
But this deer was so very tempted to let herself be caught.
And he was so eager to devour her. In all the best kinds of ways. He grinned, vicious and sharp, and knew she could see the points of his fangs when he talked. “Go on, little dove…before it’s too late.”
He watched her swallow before she slid away from him. She stammered something uselessly for a second, before she gave up and, with a shake of her head, walked from the room.
“Dinner’ll be ready in three hours!” he called after her, laughing like the maniacal fool that he was.
Oh, yes. Tonight was going to be fantastic.
Ember walked nervously into the dining room. She had stayed away from Rxa since he had vaguely propositioned her and vaguely threatened her in the same breath.
Namely because her response to both options bothered her. She should have been scared. Revolted. She should have kneed him in the groin again—fake quota be damned—and told him not to touch her.
But when she remembered how he had chased her, and the strength in his frame as he pinned her to the sofa, her face had exploded in heat. She had liked it. It was a strange game of cat and mouse, and she found herself…wanting to be the mouse.
She went outside to check on Cricket, who seemed to be perfectly content. He was hanging out in the carriage barn across the yard and was making himself quite at home. She patted his neck, let him chew on her coat, and reassured him that everything—so far—was going to be all right. Rxa hadn’t hurt her.
He was just confusing her.
When it was time for dinner, she had put on some nicer clothes she found in a wardrobe. It felt strange not to be wearing her mismatched outfits made from scraps that she had cobbled together over the years. But she figured as he was making her a fancy dinner, it was only polite to show up bathed and in something that looked a little more coordinated.
She refused to wear the weird underwear she found in the wardrobe, however. The panties were fine. But the strappy thing with clasps and wires that looked like it was meant to be worn over her breasts was strange and uncomfortable. And not nearly restrictive enough. She preferred her wraps.
The dining room was lit with candles, casting flickering amber tones washing through the room, making the shadows dance with every small movement of the air.
And there was Rxa.
His long, nearly white hair was clean and dry, hanging around his face and down his back in soft tendrils. He was wearing a simple linen shirt—one that should have been white as well, had it not turned a little yellow with age. It was tucked into tight black pants that made her mouth go dry with the way it accentuated his sharp frame.
He really was beautiful.
No matter what he thought.
He was pouring a glass of red wine—she hoped it was wine—into a glass in front of one plate. The second plate was just to the side of the first one. In front of both was a tray of meats, cheeses, and other things she couldn’t quite identify. It made her mouth water.
Rxa glanced up at her and smiled before focusing on the glass of wine. “Come on in. I won’t bite yet.”
With a shake of her head, she walked farther into the room, having to fight the urge to freeze or run for her life. Why do I feel like I’m stepping over some kind of threshold? Why does this feel like a point of no return?
Maybe it was. Maybe by agreeing to sit down to dinner with him…she was also agreeing to something else. Not just what he clearly had planned for them afterward—which she wasn’t sure she should agree to—but that she was willing to accept him as more than just her enemy.
It all felt wrong.
But it all felt right, too.
“Sit, little dove. Please.” He gestured to the chair with the glass he had just finished pouring. He poured another glass for himself. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
“Or you’re going to rip me out of mine, either way.”
“The only thing I’m going to rip you out of tonight is your clothing. Don’t worry.” He smirked.
“About that. Look. I—”
“No.” He interrupted her and raised his hand. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I know what you’re going to say, and it’s a lie you keep saying out loud in hopes of convincing yourself. We are not enemies, Ember. We’re allies. You’ll see. And what this is between us? Whatever it is?” He finished pouring his glass and set the bottle down. “It doesn’t make you any less of a hunter. Any less of a graedari. You’re a healer and a priestess. You can still be those things. It doesn’t change who you are to accept that maybe, just maybe, things are more complicated now.”
Picking at the hem of her shirt, she went quiet at his speech. There was nothing she could say to argue with him. She just let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Oh, don’t pout.” He chuckled. “C’mere, little dove. Sit. Drink. Eat. Drink some more. I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway.” Lowering his voice, he almost purred his next words. “And only if you like it.”
Her cheeks went warm at his words, and she wished she could turn around and run. But she already felt caught in his web. His insinuations of what was to follow made something coil low in her body. She was afraid, yes. She was terrified of him. But she also wanted him to do the terrible things she knew he could, and very much desired, to do.
It felt wrong. It was a deadly temptation. It made her some kind of freak.
But the spider had already sunk his fangs into her a few times. The poison was already in her veins. She was already lost. The idea of submitting to the inevitable should make her want to break the bottle of wine over his head and run for her life.
It did the opposite.
“I have problems.”
“Don’t we all?” Chuckling, he reached out his hand to her.
She felt helpless. Walking to him, she slipped her hand into his. He pulled her close, lifting her fingers to his lips, and began to kiss them one at a time, slow and sensual, his yellow eyes never leaving hers.
Shivering, she felt goosebumps crawl up her arm.
“Cold?” he teased. Snapping the fingers of his other hand, the fireplace by one wall roared to life. She should have been shocked, or at least commented on the blatant show of magic, but she was too distracted by what he was doing.
Rapt, unable to look away, she stood there dumbly as he began to nip at her skin, working his way to her palm. He placed a kiss at the sensitive spot in the center, sending another shudder down her spine. Little by little, inch by inch, he reached her wrist. His tongue rolled against her vein, and she gasped.
“Soon,” he growled low in his throat. “Soon. Not yet.” Who was he scolding? Him, or her? Or both? He grazed his teeth over her skin once more, before slowly lowering her hand to her side. In a split second, like
the flip of a switch, his sultry huskiness was gone, even if the heat didn’t quite leave his eyes. He grinned, pulled out her chair for her, and gestured. “Sit!”
With trembling hands, she moved to sit in the chair, and squeaked in surprise as he pushed it in for her.
“Sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “I forget you’re not used to romance.”
“Romance…”
“That’s what this is, after all. A nice dinner, good wine, candlelight.” He sat down in his chair. “Maybe I could train drengil to play music.”
She grimaced. “Please don’t.”
Chuckling, he reached out and began placing some food on her plate for her. He probably correctly predicted that she was too shy to do it herself. “These are olives. These are figs. This is apricot jam. It will go well with the bleu cheese,” he explained as he pointed at things on the wooden chopping block. “Help yourself. And please, have some wine. It might take the edge off.”
He had a point there. Picking up the glass, she sipped it. It was—like she expected everything was going to be tonight—fantastic. I’m sure he’s fantastic, too. She swore silently at herself for her own commentary.
“I know. You’re afraid of what this means.” He served himself some food as well, going heavier on the cured meats than the cheeses or the bread. “I promise you, it’s all right.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She began to eat, loving all the different flavors she had never experienced before. Without meaning to, she let out a sound of appreciation as she tried the apricot.
She expected him to make a comment or tease her about it. It was embarrassing. This whole thing was embarrassing. But instead, he had such a look of happiness and joy from her enjoyment of the meal he had prepared for her that it made her almost ashamed of trying to hide it. “This is really good. Thank you.”
It was almost innocent, the way his eyes lit up as she smiled at him. “You’re going to love the cheesecake. I promise.”
“I can’t wait.” She chuckled and sipped more of the wine. Careful. Don’t drink it too fast.
But it was hard not to. It was hard not to try everything on the platter several times. It was hard not to enjoy the meal…and her company. Especially with how ecstatic he clearly was about how everything was going.
The second “course”—whatever that meant—was stuffed clams. As she made her way into her second glass of wine, conversation flowed easier between them. He launched into a story about a time when he and Dtu had been on Earth and wound up in an altercation with some very angry locals who had mistaken Dtu for some kind of local monster from their lore, and he as some sort of holy savior. It had resulted in them getting into a false fight, and Dtu grumpily playing dead.
She laughed. A lot. And so did he.
The main course was the steak he had prepared. It was perfect. The first bottle of wine turned into a second bottle before they even had dessert. She realized, much to her chagrin, that she was enjoying herself. And she was enjoying herself a great deal. When Rxa wasn’t caught in one of his manic bouts of madness, he was…funny. Witty. And a fantastic storyteller.
Then came the cheesecake.
Ember thought she must have died and gone to be with the Grandfather, and she told him as much. The way he beamed made it easy to be honest with her compliments. The wine didn’t hurt, either. Savoring every bite, she had to stop herself from inhaling the dessert and go in for seconds. When her plate was empty, she was disappointed. “I’m tempted to lick the plate clean.”
Rxa stood from his chair and moved behind her. Leaning down close to her ear, he whispered to her, his breath hot against her skin. “I have something else you can lick…”
She shot up from her own chair and quickly ducked away from him. Her face instantly felt like it was on fire. The wine hadn’t made her drunk. But she knew the room felt too hot for other reasons. “I can’t—”
He caught her wrist. Suddenly, she was yanked around to him. He pulled her flush to his chest and, banding an arm around her back, pinned her there. “No. That’s a lie. You’re afraid. You aren’t a coward, Ember. You have never once looked at me, or the drengil, or the dark horrors of Under with true fear. I won’t let you hide from this. I won’t let you hide from me!”
She kneed him in the groin again.
Doubling over, he groaned in pain and released her. She took the opportunity to run. She turned on her heel and bolted through the house, intending to go out the front door and into the darkness.
She needed to get away.
Not from him. But from what he was saying.
Because he was right.
“That’s it! Run!” He was chasing her. And he was fast. His voice was sharp and snarly. It had lost the playful tone from before. “That’s it, my little dove…the wolf is on your heels!” When he laughed, it was dangerous.
She tore through his home. The door was right there! A few more steps, and she could get Cricket, and they’d—
Rxa appeared in front of her, lips twisted in a grin, his arms held wide for her. Skidding to a halt, she gaped at his sudden appearance.
“We’re full of surprises, us royals of Under.” His fangs were extended, promising that he had lust for more than one part of her. “We—”
She didn’t wait to hear what else he was going to say. She ran in the other direction. He laughed, cackling at her attempts to escape. But she wouldn’t surrender. She wouldn’t give up. That wasn’t who she was!
That time, she made it out of the house and into the courtyard. Still surrounded by the building on all sides, she scanned for another way out. Or a weapon. Or anything. The courtyard was dotted with cement benches and old, weathered statues, overgrown with vines and plants as nature tried to reclaim what had once belonged to it.
There! Another door. If she could just—
A hand snatched her wrist again and ripped her around. She instinctually punched him, socking him across the face. His head jerked to the side with the impact.
Silence.
For a beat, everything hung in the air. He turned back to her, and a slow, sadistic smile bloomed across his features. “Is that how you want to play? So be it.”
“No—I—”
“Here’s the terms of our new game, little dove. Our after-dinner entertainment.” He said the last word as little more than a rough growl as he stepped toward her. She took a step back.
He took another one forward. She took another one back. “I don’t want to play a game.”
“Too late.” He ran his tongue along her lower lip. “You want your chance to defeat me? To save Under? Here it is.”
He took a step forward. She took one back. “I don’t understand…”
“You and I are going to duke it out. I won’t use my power. I’ll even limit my strength. We are going to fight—hand to hand. If you win? I’ll stop my war. The drengil will lie down and rot. The world will be ‘saved.’” He put air quotes around that last word as he laid the sarcasm on thick.
“And if you win?” She hated to ask. She was pretty damn sure she already knew the answer. “What do you get?”
That sick, sadistic, dark, and dangerous expression came over him again. It churned her stomach like she had eaten snakes instead of cheesecake for dessert. It was fear, sure. She was terrified of what he was going to do to her.
But it wasn’t just that.
When he said a single word, she knew she was doomed.
“You.”
23
Ember gritted her teeth, glaring her best scowl at Rxa. If she could have set him on fire with her mind, she would have. Sadly, no luck. She was just a mortal, after all. “It isn’t a fair fight.”
“Oh, of course not.” He tilted his head slightly, looking her over. “I have thousands of years of experience. But it’s your only chance to saaaave the woooorld.” He gestured overdramatically.
If her heart weren’t pounding in her ears, she might have laughed. “You can’t be serious.”
/> He grinned. Manic and toothy. “Very.”
“And if I say no?”
The expression he wore fell so quickly into an almost childish, nearly pouting frown, that she nearly laughed a second time. “But…but it’s such a good plan. Why would you say no? If you win, you save the day. If I win, I get to rip your clothes off and ravage you like a wild animal, which we both know you secretly want. Either way, you win.”
That time she rolled her eyes and went to walk away from him. “You’re an asshole.”
For a third time in only as many minutes, he snatched her wrist and yanked her back toward him. She whirled and struck him across the face, rocking his head to the side.
When he looked back to her, his expression was feral and full of glee. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“No—I—”
“Here. I’ll even give you an advantage.” He gestured his hand, and from nowhere came the long, golden spear that Lyon had gifted to her. “Just no stabbing. Only hitting. Deal? I don’t want to bleed all over you while I rut you until you can’t remember your own name.”
Snatching the spear from him, she backed up, holding it out in front of her. It felt good to be armed again. Even if it was utterly useless. He was a force of nature. A demigod. And she was…just her. Just Ember. A mortal. Weak, vulnerable, and breakable. There was nothing she could do against someone like him.
This was all just a game to him.
He began to circle her, pacing around her in a wide arc, as if sizing up an opponent for a sword fight. She wasn’t trained to fight—not like Ash was. She held her own, but she wasn’t really meant to brawl. But she knew not to show him her back. “Why are you doing this, Rxa?”
“Because you’re in denial. And maybe a good old-fashioned fist fight will show you the light.” He pulled his shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants. Taking it off over his head, he balled it up and chucked it aside. He wore an X of bandages over his chest, still protecting the part of his back where his wings had been. But it didn’t detract at all from the tantalizing sight it gave her.
Grave of Words (Fall of Under Book 2) Page 20