My shriek was cut off as I crashed into Johnny: the big sol caught some of my fall as we both tumbled into the mud. Mud which was filled with blacktips. I let out another shriek as I felt the first sting of their bites. I still couldn’t see them clearly, but I sensed that they weren’t large. There were dozens of them, though, and they attacked as a pack. They worked together in a way that told me they could eat a dweller up in no time at all.
I sank in deeper as I fought them off, mud covering my face and filling my mouth. A sliver of panic was starting to overtake all the other emotions I was currently experiencing, drowning out my worry, fear and pain. I couldn’t breathe. I was being eaten alive. Surely those two things were decent enough reasons to have a panic attack. Spots were dancing across my vision as I fought my attackers and the mud around me was starting to feel hot. Hot and stiff, actually. It was hardening, almost like clay when it was baked. Was Siret doing something?
He had to be. He was hitting the blacktips with some god powers. It was the only explanation.
As the mud continued to heat up, the blacktips started to drop away, and I was able to rise toward the surface. When I broke through the top layer, I clawed at my mouth and face, spitting out mud so that I could suck air into my screaming lungs. The blacktips had been left below in the hardened ground, and it didn’t feel as if any of them were still attached to me. The pain from the biting continued on though—and since all of those cuts were now filled with dirt, they had basically just signed me up for a full body infection.
I crawled on top of the mud as it hardened further, until it was solid enough for me to rise, my legs only a little shaky. The higher I rose, the hotter the air got around me. By the time I was standing, it felt like I was in an oven. Ignoring that weirdness, I searched for Siret.
He was nowhere to be seen.
I started moving cautiously back toward the edge of the wall, but I tripped over something after only a few steps. My horrified cry was low as I found myself facing a half-chewed arm. It was just the arm, sticking up above the hardened mud. I could see the flesh and bone in places where the blacktips had gnawed on it.
Sobs rocked my chest as I tried to roll away from the limb. Away from the knowledge that I had most likely killed Johnny by landing on him. Aedan! That asshole had tried to kill us both! A heavy thump next to my head had me scrambling backwards until a familiar voice halted me.
“Willa.”
Changing trajectories, I launched myself at Siret, who was now crouched beside me. I crawled into his lap and wrapped myself around him. Relieved gasps were rocking through me as I murmured, “I don’t know what you did, but thank you for saving me.”
He stood without another word, an arm banded beneath my thighs. My legs wrapped around him as I settled in closer. It felt right. My soul fragment was content and I tried my hardest not to cry. As some of the hysteria died off, though, I realised that Siret’s body was trembling and hot to the touch. Lifting my head up from where I had buried it in his neck, I met a pair of green eyes shot through with darkness. Black tendrils crawled ominously across his irises, transforming his entire face.
“I didn’t save you, Willa.”
It took me a micro-click to register what he had said. I was too busy focusing on the gravelled nature of his voice. It was rough. Flat. Angry and biting.
I swallowed hard, tasting the mud which still coated my mouth and throat. “What do you mean? Who saved me?”
Some of his hardness faltered, and for a beat he almost looked vulnerable. “I don’t know. You fell and I was coming in after you when a blast of heat shot me out of the pit and halfway across the arena. By the time I got back over here … I found you like this.”
He swore loudly as his dark gaze snapped across to the god-box. “Either one of them saved you, or else … you saved yourself.”
I saved myself? How was that even remotely possible? I had no powers or gifts. Hell, most of the time it was a mission for me to walk in a straight line. It had to have been one of the gods. There was no other explanation.
Siret started to move and I made a motion of getting down, letting him know that I was fine to walk on my own. His grip only tightened further. “I’m just going to need a few more clicks with you in my arms … when you went under that mud…” He broke off and that dead look was back on his face. “I didn’t get to you in time.”
At the edge of the mud pit he hauled me up and onto the land above. My eyes darted around as I searched for Aedan. I owed him some major payback, that shweed.
“What are you looking for?” Siret’s question startled me. He had climbed up beside me much quicker than I had expected, which had shocked me enough that I miss-stepped and began to tumble toward the ground. He caught me easily, barely even batting an eye.
“Could you maybe try not to get killed for the next few rotations?” he asked, his eyes back to their normal vibrant green. “We just need to make it to the end.”
Not die. I could totally do that. Right? “How many more things do we have to go through? And where is Aedan?”
I had been attempting to keep my ire contained, but the moment I spoke his name, the anger spilled over. I reined it in again with a couple of long, deep breaths. I might have been ignoring the death of Johnny, but it was something which would hit me hard later. The image of his arm half chewed-off wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Don’t you worry about Aedan. He’ll get what’s coming to him.” Siret’s tone was chilling. It was nothing like I had heard from him before, but he had been channelling Coen ever since he had jumped into the pit, with the stern voice and the dead eyes.
Before I could ask what exactly was coming for Aedan, he took hold of my hand and laced his fingers through mine, before moving toward the next part of the maze. I forced myself to pay attention; I was always extra scatterbrained when one of the Abcurses’ touched me—and my current situation was stressful enough without the added distraction.
As we approached a massive stone wall, I tilted my head back to take it all in. It was blocking the path, shaped like the tip of an arrow, facing away from the mud pit we had just walked through. Resigning myself to climbing again, I took a step forward. Before I could go any further, Siret lifted his right arm and slammed his fist into the centre of the wall, hitting it with so much force that the entire structure, which was many feet wide, thick, and tall, crumbled down into a heap of huge rocks at our feet. Releasing my hand, he lifted me up and over the rubble, and then we were moving forward to the next challenge.
Except there wasn’t another one. We had reached the double doors which led out into the rooms below the arena. Siret strode right up to them and with a solid kick, knocked both of them wide open. They slammed back against the walls with a cracking force.
I scurried along behind him, not wanting to get caught in the arena with all of its traps, and wanting to be away from the eyes of whichever gods sat above us. As soon as we were through the doors, a burst of noise echoed from the stands. They had definitely been using some sort of energy to mask the sound while we were inside the course. Maybe so that they couldn’t warn or distract us. They had the bird’s-eye view, while we were rats in a maze.
The Gamemaster was speaking again. “Looks like three are through in the first round; the next contestants will now be called.”
First round. Oh, for the love of all that was sacred. I didn’t have any more rounds in me. I was barely hanging on as it was, and I still had no idea who had saved me in the pit with the heat energy. Before I could voice my protests, or collapse in a ragged heap, a wall of Abcurses surrounded me, and all of them wore expressions very similar to Siret’s.
Holy shit. They were pissed. Someone was about to die.
“We’re leaving.” That came from Rome, who was standing right before me, his arms crossed, and his body all swelled up in anger. As if he really needed to be any bigger.
Eyes of stone were locked onto me, the sort of tension in his expression that I had s
een the last time Rau had tried to mess with us. That made sense, because the whole arena idea was almost definitely Rau trying to mess with us again.
“We can’t leave.” Siret was standing directly behind me, and from the sounds of it, he was trying to scrub the mud off himself.
“We can’t,” Aros agreed, to my right. “But she can.”
“What?” I spun a little to face Aros, almost flinching as soon as I could see his face. He was really angry. They all were.
This might actually have been the angriest that I had ever seen them. And … none of them were meeting my eyes. I glanced down, following the line of Aros’s golden glare, and blinked at my arms.
“Holy shit,” I blurted, pulling my wrist up before my face.
I was covered in … bites. I had no idea what those blacktip things were, but they had tiny little jaws—evidenced by the track of tiny little bite marks spreading all over my skin—all the way to the tips of my fingers. Their teeth must have been sharp, because they hadn’t been that close to me for very long, but I was seeping blood from all of the cuts. I looked like I’d been stuck in a barrel full of hungry rats for a sun-cycle. I was still mostly in one piece, though. Johnny must have won their attention before the mud started to heat up. I supposed that was because he had been bigger than me. And his sol-flesh probably tasted better too. It probably tasted superior, and more blessed.
My flesh probably tasted like dirt.
“Come here.” Aros was holding out his hand, his eyes still on my body, moving from my legs to my arms, to my neck and shoulders.
I quickly put my hand in his, because his eyes were darkening by the click. The Abcurse circle broke for a moment—long enough for Aros to draw me through and toward the other side of the room. There was another white-robed dweller in the corner, and Rome snarled something at him as we passed, making him nod so hard I was surprised he didn’t get whiplash, before he turned and bolted toward one of the many tunnels leading away from our particular chamber.
“What did you mean before?” I asked, finally finding my voice again as we passed into the second room, a heavy wooden door falling shut behind us. “Why would I be able to leave but you guys can’t?”
None of them answered me. I was pretty sure they hadn’t even heard me. They were still too busy staring at my munched-on skin. The second room was full of cots set up against the wall, with a few trolleys of medical supplies stacked up against some of the beds. Aros’s hands clinched at my waist, pulling me up to one of the mattresses. When they started to crowd around again, I repeated my question, raising my voice to force them to pay attention.
“It’s one of our conditions.” Yael was the one to answer. “We need to respond to every single call to the arena. If we miss one, our sentence is automatically extended. It’s our father’s only way of keeping tabs on us properly. He doesn’t have the energy to watch us all the time, or to have us followed all the time. There are other things that require his attention.”
“But you …” Siret was standing beside Yael, the dark mud caked to his shirt and arms. “You’re only accountable to us. Not even the academy can touch you.”
“Am I though?” I held out my arms. “Kinda seems like the gods are trying out some accountability on me too.”
Aros was shaking his head. “Alright … everyone turn around.”
To my surprise, they actually obeyed him, spinning to surround my little cot, their backs and shoulders forming a guard around us. Aros curled his finger into the hem of my mud-caked dress, but before he could do anything, Siret had turned to face me again. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and my filthy dress dissolved. I blinked. He wasn’t staring at my cuts anymore—his eyes were fixed firmly on my face, the green swirling with gold, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He pulled back, turned again, and Aros invaded my space.
His left hand was against my neck, high on my collarbone. “Settle,” he muttered, as though he could feel the racing of my heart.
His right hand was sorting through the jars and containers littered along the top of the trolley. He pulled out a small tin, flicked the lid off with his thumb, and set the tin against the side of the bed, beside my thigh.
“What are you doing?” I finally asked.
Some of the shock had worn off over the fact that they were actually allowing me to be naked—or almost naked, since I was still wearing underwear—even though I was pretty sure it was for medical reasons. Either way, the shock had made way for heat. Because Aros’s hand was still heavy on my skin. Because I was partly naked. Because they were all there.
You almost got munched to death, I tried to tell myself.
“Pretty much.” Aros answered my thought as though I had spoken it aloud, and then his hand was moving toward my arm. There was some kind of clear liquid coating his fingers. “This will clean and seal your wounds. It’s going to hurt, but I’ll do my best to combat the feeling.”
“Wait,” I quickly interrupted, realising exactly what was happening. Realising why Aros was the one doing it. I was pretty sure that if he used his Seduction to distract me from the pain of whatever he was going to use to heal my cuts … well, I didn’t have very good impulse control.
I had very bad impulse control.
He paused at my command, one of his eyebrows inching up. I didn’t say anything else, and eventually, a strained chuckle filtered through the room.
“I have to heal your cuts, sweetheart. You need your cuts healed. That was only the first round. Everyone knows that the second round is harder.”
His hand was moving toward my skin again, so I quickly grabbed his wrist. I was almost naked. He was armed with Seduction. This was not a good idea! With any luck, I’d be too weak and overwhelmed to fight in any second rounds.
“Everyone doesn’t know that!” I objected. “I didn’t know that! They never taught that in school.”
“What did they teach you in school?” Rome asked. He looked uncomfortable, shifting his big frame around.
Aros flexed his arm a little, testing my grip. I wouldn’t budge.
“They taught us how to … you know … obey orders and not have original thoughts and thank the gods every time someone sneezed. That kind of stuff. Nobody ever said anything about second rounds being harder than first rounds. Never. This is my first time hearing about—”
“You’re rambling,” Aros interrupted. “I’m going to have to do this sooner or later. Minus the later.”
“He means sooner,” Coen grunted. As though I really needed clarification.
“He means now.” Rome was starting to shift around even faster. “We have no idea how many people are going to need to go through the first round before the second starts. And it’s a short round. Especially if they die before it’s over.”
“Do it,” Yael added.
“Give her a click,” Siret argued. He was usually on my side. That kind of made me love him. Just a little.
Aros pulled against my grip again, and this time I released him. He then placed a hand against my collarbone at just the right angle to block out some of my lower body from his eyes. I understood why he was doing it now. He was keeping his cool by pretending to himself that I wasn’t almost naked. He bent down, his face looming level with mine, his other hand wrapping around my ankle. As soon as the ointment touched my skin, fire rushed through me. The bad kind of fire. I made a strangled sound, but Aros caught it on a kiss, and then the burning was twofold. The good fighting against the bad. The liquid fire rushing over the dark embers. His tongue slipped into my mouth and I might have made another sound and it might have been a moan. He was spreading the stuff up my leg, to the back of my knee, and then around to my thigh. It spread so easily, like droplets of water, even though it had looked so much thicker. When his left hand slipped from my collarbone, it was to reach for the tin. I pulled my mouth away, because I didn’t want him to do my other leg. It was too much. The one leg that he had done was starting to turn numb, and there was a sick feeling stirring in my sto
mach.
There was also a lust feeling stirring in my stomach, but they were as strong as each other.
“Not working?” Aros muttered against my lips, and the tin dropped into my lap.
His mouth took mine again, harder this time, and the good fire finally overtook the bad. I floated into bliss, even when my other leg began to go numb. Even when he pulled both of my legs around his hips and dragged me right to the edge of the cot. Even when his hands slid up my arms and settled around my neck. It was the same hold as before, but with both hands there wasn’t enough surface area for him to lay his palms flat. The heels of his hands pressed against the tops of my breasts and his fingers dug into the line of my shoulder.
Someone said something, but I didn’t hear what it was. Pins and needles were rushing through my legs, and I tightened them reflexively. Suddenly, Aros was everywhere. His hands on my skin, his body pressed up against mine, his heat reaching some place deep inside me. He tasted sweet, but dark at the same time. The way his tongue stroked against mine wasn’t sweet, it was downright intentional, as though he knew that all he needed to do was kiss me this way for one more click and I’d be naked beneath him.
“Enough.”
The word broke through this time—at least for Aros, since he was the one who pulled back, ending the kiss. His hands rose to my wrists, pulling my arms down from where they had apparently climbed around his neck, and he took an unsteady step back, forcing my legs to untangle and release him. Yael had a hand on one shoulder, and Rome had a hand on the other, slowly separating him from me. I wanted to reach out and draw him back, and he seemed to read the plea all over my face because he rumbled with a growling sound that shook me to the core.
“Get it under control, Seduction.” Siret was the one who spoke, stepping directly in front of me.
Persuasion (Curse of the Gods Book 2) Page 14