Grave of Words (Fall of Under Book 2)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  “Stop—” she gasped. It was all too much. He was too much. The feeling of him against her, each time he pressed against her body, made her want to whimper in pleasure. It felt electric. It felt like bliss.

  “I don’t think you mean that.” He sat up, kneeling between her legs, her thighs on top of his. It gave him the freedom to use both hands as he gripped her waist and began to slide his touch up her sides. “Now, I get to finally see what you’re hiding.”

  “No, I—ah!” She tried to protest, but as he dragged his sharp nails down her sides, hard enough to sting and leave welts, she whined and arched her back, tossing her head to the side.

  “Good…oh, I knew you liked it rough, my little dove. I knew you did. Which is great ’cause I’m in no mood to be gentle.” He repeated the gesture, raking his claws along her.

  Squeezing her eyes tight, she whimpered and arched again, squirming under his hands. She tried to fight, tried to kick him—tried anything. But it was no use.

  When his hands stroked back up her body, soothing the scratches and welts he had given her, and wandered up to the fabric strips she used to bind her breasts, she froze. She looked up at him, eyes wide, and redoubled her efforts.

  Laughing, he leaned over her and snapped a hand around her throat. He didn’t squeeze hard—not enough to hurt or really cut off her air. He just restricted it enough to make a point.

  Her body blazed. She should be angry. She should be furious. She should be snarling and swearing at him. But as he tightened his grasp ever so slightly, she could only let out a quiet, mewling noise that sounded afraid to her own ears. Not because she thought he was going to hurt her…but because she was afraid of what he was doing to her.

  He hovered his lips close to hers, his breath hot as it washed over her. “Be good. Or else I’ll have to restrain you more. And I like being able to put you in whatever position I want. So…lay still for a few more minutes and let me unwrap my present, hm?” He licked at the split in her lower lip, shuddering from the taste of her blood. “Oh, Ember…you’re perfect. You really are.”

  He released his grip on her throat. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. She was helpless to watch as he sat back up and began to slice through her wrappings with his sharp nails and brute strength. She jerked in surprise with each rip and pop of the cotton fibers as he tore them to pieces.

  He sat on his heels and looked down at her, taking in the sight of her naked chest as he tossed the ruined fabric aside. “Happy birthday to me! How the fuck did you manage to flatten those wonderful things down so far? Are you a magician?” He laughed as he slid his palms up her sides again, drifting more and more north until he reached his targets.

  He cupped her in his palms, gentle at first, teasing and toying with her, as if learning her body. She turned her head, looking away from him, her cheeks blazing in embarrassment. “Stop it. I don’t want—anh!”

  He pinched her nipples, already hard and pert from what was happening, between his fingers. Her complaints broke off in a cry that was equal parts pleasure and pain.

  “Liar.” He grinned triumphantly down at her. She turned her face back away and shut her eyes tight. But it didn’t last for long as he lowered himself back down to her, scootching down her body until he could replace his fingers with his teeth.

  A broken sound left her as he bit down on her, hard enough that she wondered if he broke the skin. But as he relented, he rolled his tongue over her, soothing the pain. Now she couldn’t help but watch him as he lavished her, his eyes shut, his expression one of pure pleasure.

  His free hand kneaded and groped at her other breast, pinching and clawing at her in time with his bites, and then soothing the pain away when it reached her limit. She would have marks and bruises in the morning.

  She’d be disappointed if she didn’t.

  No! Damn it all!

  When he switched sides, she tossed her head in frustration. She couldn’t do anything! She could only lie there and whimper and whine as he tormented her body with all the patience in the world. He was violent. He was sweet. He was careful and careless. He was taking her by force, and he was seducing her all in the same moment.

  It felt so good.

  More. Harder. Please. She barely kept the words from slipping out of her mouth. She felt lost at sea, and he was the storm and the raft around her all in the same moment. She jolted with each new stinging embrace.

  As he began to kiss down her body, it broke her out of her reverie. When he began to undo her pants, she started kicking and struggling with renewed vigor. “No! No, don’t you dare. Don’t you even dare!”

  “I think I will dare, thank you.” Once more, he laughed. There was nothing—absolutely nothing she could do—to stop him as he pulled off her clothes and tossed them aside. She was naked, lying in the grass, tied to a knife stuck deep into the dirt. And helpless at the mercy of a madman who made it very clear exactly what he was going to do to her.

  He lifted her calf to his lips and kissed her leg. She watched in frightened fascination as he dragged his teeth along her skin, lifting just a little blood to the surface, only to lick it up a second later.

  Pinning her legs back down, he kissed at her navel, slowly drifting lower. She struggled beneath him, but she might as well have been trapped beneath a boulder. Her protests stopped suddenly as he ran his tongue—hot and slow—up her core.

  He hummed in approval. “Something tells me you’re enjoying this. Call it a hunch.” He laughed at her angry growl. “Oh, don’t be so put out. You wanted to lose the fight. Don’t worry, I’m more than happy to make this decision for you.”

  Spreading her legs wider, he caught the sensitive ball of nerves in his mouth and began to flick his tongue over it. She cried out as pleasure crashed over her. When he slipped a finger into her, she almost peaked from that one movement alone. All she could do was toss her head.

  He lifted his head and kissed her inner thigh. “I can retract my claws. Don’t worry.” And with that, he pressed a second finger into her. She bucked beneath him, desperate to get away and desperate for more in the same motion.

  And then it happened.

  He sank his fangs into her thigh at the same moment he slammed his fingers into her.

  It was as if she had been struck by lightning.

  Her mind went white. Arching her back, she threw her head back and let out a loud, strangled cry. Her body clenched, every muscle going taut as the sudden ecstasy consumed her and pushed her over the cliff into release without a moment’s warning.

  The sensation of his bite kept her there—the beautiful, throbbing pleasure. The feeling of him drinking her. He was going to take her in as many ways as he could, it seemed.

  How long he kept at it, she didn’t know. It could have been seconds. It could have been years. All she knew was that when he finally stopped, she was dizzy. The world felt strange and fuzzy. It was as though she were drunk. Her limbs felt like jelly as he licked at the wound and pulled his fingers from her body to stroke over her stomach in slow, lazy circles.

  He began to kiss up her body until he reached her lips. Bit by bit, her world was staring to come back into focus. When she could put together more than single-syllable thoughts, she found him tenderly kissing her. Stopping every few seconds to watch her, and then resuming.

  She was trembling. She felt like he had wrung out every nerve in her body. And she knew it had only just started. “Please…stop.” Her plea was halfhearted and empty, even to her. She knew it was a lie. She knew that if he got up and let her go, and let her walk away, she would be disappointed.

  She wanted this.

  But she wanted him to make it happen.

  He grinned. “Welcome back. Now for the main course, little dove. Are you ready? I know you’ve never been with a man before…so I’ll try to make the first moment easy on you. But after that, you better buckle up.”

  “I—I don’t—no, wait!”

  The world was moving again. Without warning, he flipped h
er over onto her stomach. She grunted as the ground met her cheek. Her arms were crossed at the wrists. He grabbed her hips, yanking them up until she was forced onto her knees.

  “Rxa! Don’t—let me go!” She pushed up onto her elbows. Or rather, she tried. His hand tangled in her hair and slammed her head back to the ground, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to make her see spots.

  “Down. Stay. Good dove.”

  She heard his belt buckle. She heard it hit the ground beside her.

  The seconds dragged by. Each one felt like an eternity. Each one left her shivering in anticipation and fear.

  And need.

  Gods help her, she needed this. Needed him to make it simple. Easy. And brutal.

  Stroking a hand over her bare ass, he hummed. “Wonderful view. Beats the lake.”

  “Shut up you—Ow!” She jolted as he smacked her ass. She snarled and struggled, trying to buck him off.

  Laughing, he rubbed the spot where his palm had impacted her. “We’ll do more of that later. I think I’m at the end of my patience, sadly.”

  And then he was there against her, his free hand gripping her hip. The pressure began to build.

  “Wait—wait—Rxa, stop, I—”

  He didn’t wait.

  It was done. She wailed, her cry joined by his loud moan behind her as he slid inside her. It was only a little. She knew there was much more to come. She gripped the grass beneath her hands, desperately needing something to hold on to.

  Then his hand was on hers. He let go of her hip to slip his fingers between hers and hold her hand. For a moment, she didn’t understand why. And then she understood. This was her first time with a man, after all. And she wasn’t an idiot. She knew what was going to happen.

  He paused, only just the first part of his hard, throbbing presence in her body buried in her. “Are you ready?” His voice was soft and gentle. There was not a single ounce of cruelty in it. He squeezed her hand.

  She was shivering as if she was naked out in the winter snow. But she felt anything but cold. Shutting her eyes, she tucked her head into her arm. “Y…yeah. I’m ready.”

  He rammed himself into her. All in one moment, he filled her. She almost screamed. Not from the pain—oh, it stung a little—but the sensation of him inside her made her wail. There was so much of him!

  It felt impossible. He was so deep. Stretching her, filling her, hot and throbbing, buried to the hilt. It ached.

  He roared behind her. She felt him press his hips harder, forcing the last bit of him inside her by sheer strength alone. And her body took it happily.

  For a second time, he sent her reeling into pure ecstasy without warning. She wailed again, almost sobbing she was so overwhelmed. She needed him to give her a moment. Just one moment so she could try to glue herself back together.

  But Rxa wasn’t going to give her anything of the sort. He knelt behind her, settling both his hands on her hips…and began to piston himself inside her like the engine of one of the few functional cars she had ever seen.

  “Yes—oh, yes, Ember—ah! Oh…by the stars, you feel—this is better than I could have ever—nngh!” He snarled as he rammed into her, slamming into her depths with each powerful stroke.

  She lurched against the grass, her cheek rubbing against the dewy strands as he made good on his promise to ravage her. Each time he impacted her, stars exploded across her vision. By the old gods, it was…it was the most incredible thing she had ever felt.

  She would have fallen over if he wasn’t pulling her back against him, holding her in place. It felt like he was going to pummel her raw. And there was nothing she could do to stop him if she wanted to.

  And now, it was the farthest thing from her mind to make him stop.

  She moaned in bliss and let the tension melt from her limbs. It made it easier for him to lean into her. Easier for him to go faster, harder, to give her more. And that was what she wanted now. More.

  “There it is. Do you surrender? Do you admit you want this? That you want me? Say it, Ember. Say you’re mine. Say it.”

  “Yes—ah—” She could barely think. The words left her before she could stop herself. “More, please—oh, gods, Rxa—”

  He moaned loudly, stopping for a second to shudder over her. “Fuck. You almost ended me early.” He leaned down over her, kissing her cheek. “Say you want me…please.”

  She gave in. What was the point in fighting it? What was the point in lying to herself? It was the truth, and she was only hiding from what it might mean. She never considered herself a coward. “I want you, Rxa. Please…I need you.”

  He groaned and leaned his head against hers as he was overcome with another shudder. “Thank you.” With another gentle kiss against her cheek, he straightened, grasped her hips, and made good on her request.

  If she wasn’t bruised in the morning, she was going to be shocked. He railed against her, each impact harder than she could have thought was possible, just stopping shy of being painful. He wasn’t human, and he was going to love her like the demigod that he was.

  Her pleasure climbed and built into crescendo after crescendo as he worked inside her like an unstoppable machine. It seemed he could sense her limit better than she could. For each time she thought she was going to beg him to stop, he gave her one more. And then, just when she thought she might pass out, his thrusts changed their tempo.

  With a loud growl, he yanked himself out of her. His sudden absence left her shaking like a leaf, unable to do anything but kneel there, her head on the grass, gasping and whimpering. She barely even registered as he yanked the knife from the ground. She was moving again, the sudden sensation almost making her black out.

  He was kneeling, and she was sitting on his thighs, her legs spread around him. He put her arms over his shoulders, still tied together behind his neck, as he lifted her by the hips, and in one movement, sank her down onto him to the hilt.

  She arched, tossing her head back, letting out a broken cry as he sent her over that peak once more. It felt impossible. It felt like he was going to kill her from pleasure.

  He lifted her and pressed her back down once, twice, and then pulled her against him and buried his head into the crook of her neck. He let out a broken howl, and she felt him surge and throb inside her. He twitched and jerked, pulling her hips to his, as if trying to somehow push himself deeper.

  When he kissed her throat over where he had bitten her a few times, she weakly turned her head away. Not to hide from him—but to offer it to him.

  As his fangs sank into her skin, it was all too much. Darkness came for her.

  If I have to die…let it be like this.

  25

  Dtu held Kamira as she wept into his shoulder. He had once more taken human form—he had done so more in the last forty-eight hours than he had in as many years prior. But he had good reason to do so.

  Jakob being one.

  And Kamira’s grief being the other.

  For two days, she had stood in vigil over Maverick’s corpse, waiting for him to rise as one of the drengil. She insisted that if he did come back as “a dirty, slavering, disgusting zombie,” he would have wanted it to be her to put him down. That he wouldn’t want others to see how far he had fallen. Maverick was—apparently, Dtu honestly did not know him very well—a man of dignity.

  But after two days, it became clear that he was not going to rise. Why, they did not know. Perhaps it was because the marks on his face remained intact. There were enough questions left unanswered about their new terrible ordeal that a few more troubled no one.

  When Jakob had suggested they put a hole in Maverick’s head to ensure he wouldn’t come back, he had needed to step between Kamira and his new…eh…friend to keep her from ripping him apart.

  No one would defile the man she viewed as a brother.

  “I thought you two hated each other,” Dtu had muttered to her.

  “Family picks on each other. That’s what makes them family,” had been her reply.
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  He supposed that made sense. He supposed that was what made him and the rest of the royals of Under so very much related to each other.

  But the time had come to place Maverick in a grave. He had dug it out himself, ensuring that it was properly deep so neither animal nor drengil would be tempted by him. Kamira wrapped his body in clean sheets. Together, with Ini at their side and all the others crowded around, they had laid him to rest.

  And now, Kamira wept in his arms. There was no shame in expressing grief amongst the shifters of his house. It was not a mark against strength. Indeed, in his mind, it meant the opposite.

  “When all this is done,” Ini said gently from beside them, reaching out to place her hand on Kamira’s shoulder, “we will come back for him. We will make sure he is returned to the Ancients as is tradit—”

  “No,” Kamira snarled, pulling away from Dtu to wipe the back of her hand across her eyes. “No. He stays here. He despises—despised—the Ancients for the games they played. He hated them. He would rather rot in the dirt than be returned to them.”

  Ini bowed her head and floated away, hovering over the mound of fresh dirt they had used to inter the former Elder of Words. He had dug his grave in a quiet grove, at the base of one of the largest and oldest trees. It was a suitable place to rest.

  Ini placed her hand against the bark of the tree, and he watched as a symbol appeared, emblazoned in the bark. The symbol of the House of Words. “Then we will remember him here, instead.”

  Dtu watched as the Queen of Fate knelt at the side of Maverick’s grave and, summoning a single blue rose to her hand, laid it atop the dirt. She sniffed, and he knew that she, too, was weeping.

  Frowning behind his mask, he picked her up from the ground and held her to his chest. If his role this day was to comfort others, then so be it. He would do so gladly. Ini had been there to comfort him in his darkest days, and so had Kamira. It was only fair that he do the same for them in their moment of loss.