It took him a while to shove all of it away, but when he did, when he came to his senses, he noticed how stiff Amira’s body had become. And it was not all he noticed.
Her lips were trembling. Her hands were shaking. “Stop it!” he commanded. Raven couldn’t grab her arms, so he turned until she lost her balance and went down straight into his waiting embrace.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he all but yelled. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want her suffering.
“It does not hurt,” she replied, closing her eyes for a deep breath.
Raven was not hearing her anymore. His attention went to his hands cradling her and—despite his mind refusing to believe in his senses—something dark grew inside his heart. He lifted his palm and his breath caught in his throat.
Blood. There was blood all over his skin.
He stared at his bloody hands disbelievingly for a moment. The meaning of what he was witnessing was yet to sink into his brain. His heart, however, didn’t need time to digest the hot, red liquid he saw. It felt dread and horror, and even anger.
Anger at her—for not telling him about the consequences. At himself—for he, of all people, should have known better.
He laid her on her stomach and cursed when the image of her lacerated flesh greeted him. Her back was ridged with long, open wounds. Wounds that should have been his. Always his to bear and live with. Not hers. His back should have been covered with those hideous slashes. His blood should have been flowing in rivers. Instead, he only felt a mild, tenuous throbbing in his healed scars, while she…
“It doesn’t hurt,” Amira repeated with a feeling he wasn’t listening to her. “It only looks awful.”
“No, of course it doesn’t!” he laughed sarcastically. “Because open wounds never do!”
“Will you listen to—”
“Lie still,” Raven ordered, pinning her down when she tried to push up. “I’ll clean the wounds and—”
“Stop being stubborn!” she exclaimed, getting very frustrated. “I told you it does not hurt! It’s only a physical manifestation.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“When I was nine I got the scars, but it was you who bled.” How did he survive?—it was a mystery to her. He shouldn’t have been alive, not after this many strikes. “My nightmare was an onslaught of emotions so powerful, of screams so loud, I couldn’t bear it.”
Something died in her that day. And when she woke up, she was numb to everything. Until she met him.
“Now, you’ve got the scars…”
“And you’ve got the pain?” he said in an incredulous tone that told her he thought he had just caught her lying.
“That would have been true, if I’d beaten you with a whip.” This was different. “The wounds will close promptly.”
“How promptly?”
“A few hours, maybe.” Again, she tried to sit up, but he held her fast. His hands were firm, hold unbreakable, but she could feel how careful he was—keeping his palms as far as possible from the wounds.
“Are you even listening to yourself? A few hours maybe. You’ll bleed to death by then.” His voice was like sandpaper rubbing her senses.
“Stop growling at me!” Amira had had it with this lying on her front. Unable to turn, unable to see his face.
“Then start healing yourself,” he whispered oh so calmly against her ear.
“You know I can’t heal myself.” She’d already told him this, days ago. Why would he ask her this?
“All I know is, if you can’t figure this one out, it means you’ve already lost too much blood.” Raven spoke to her slowly as if explaining the mysteries of the universe to a baby. It made Amira grit her teeth. “We are bound, you said. Then heal me and you’ll heal yourself.”
“You would let—”
“No, I’ll let you to bleed to death,” he retorted sarcastically. “What do you think?”
“I said I won’t bleed—”
“And I said shut up and come here.” Finally he helped her to get up so she could see his furious eyes, and all she wanted to do was trail her fingers along those stern lines of his face. And kiss him.
“Bossy,” Amira almost laughed. She put her hands on him and, inching closer, inhaled his scent. The world suddenly began swirling. She did have trouble with keeping her thoughts straight. They kept jumping from one thing to another so quickly, she found herself unable to keep up, and almost missed his next word.
“I think you need it. Considering the foolish things you keep doing.” The moment Raven’s scars were gone, he twisted her body so quickly, Amira didn’t have time for even a surprised gasp. She found herself on her stomach once again, and a moment later felt wet cloth brushing over her back.
“I have too many bosses of me, already.” She hated being bossed around. Except hate wasn’t the emotion she felt now, was it? She shouldn’t be telling him this—the thought crossed her mind a second before it was chased by another—when did he bring the water?
“Who?” his hands stilled.
Amira murmured something incomprehensible even to her own ears, but the answer must have satisfied him, because his hands resumed washing her back.
Amira must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, he was taking off the blood-soaked bedding. Everything still swirled as he lifted her from the bed and placed her in a chair. She felt drunk watching the way he changed the sheets, came back to her, and tore her dress off her body. And then, he took her back to the bed and wrapped her in a blanket.
“You finally manage to rip my clothes off and all you can do is look so grim?” She reached for his stubborn, thickset jaw, her fingers coming into contact only when he leaned forward, moving closer to her. “Remember what I told you about the pole?”
That did win her a small smile. He sat near her, but the slight curl in the corners of his lips was all too soon replaced by a stony expression.
“I hope you’re not trying to tell me you feel great.”
“I definitely don’t feel as bad as you think I do.” She braced herself, pushing her body up, but it turned out to be a feeble attempt.
“I see.” Raven shook his head in bewilderment. “Hell will freeze over before you admit a weakness,” he muttered under his breath and she heard the words only because he was an inch away. Amira would have protested—she had revealed too many weaknesses to him—but she found herself limp in her bones, and lethargic in her brain. All she could do was to don a mask of false bravado and turn to him. It seemed he was mad at her, but he did help her sit up and lean her head against the bedstead.
“All right. So spill it,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding as if it had grown teeth. “And don’t think you are fooling anyone.”
“You could curb your tone, you know,” Amira suggested, but for some reason she found his growly commands thrilling.
“I don’t think I have it in me right now,” Raven admitted. “I’m still mad at you.” But his hand went around her, pulling her closer until she was nestled against his body with his jaw on the top of her head.
“So what do you want to know?” Was she really going to tell him everything he asked? Amira wondered. She was too tired to figure out the answer. All she knew was that trust, just like passion, worked both ways. If she wanted him to bare his soul, she had to be ready to bare hers.
“Many things. But let’s start with why we are bound, and did you see what happened fifteen years ago?” His hands kept rubbing at her arms as if she was freezing, when in truth she felt hot. Why was she shivering then?, she asked herself, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The sound captured her. Silence fell over them. Stretched.
Raven didn’t press her. He let her lie in his arms, mind wandering, and it became so natural for them to just drift away completely. But Amira refused to surrender.
“I don’t know why,” she uttered eventually. “Maybe because they wanted us to meet. It’s not like they tell me their reasons. And no, I didn’t see anyt
hing. I felt it.” But at least now she knew whose horror she had survived, all those years ago.
They were destined to meet. She would have thought it a good thing, if only she didn’t know Destiny as the heartless, cold-blooded bitch that she was.
“Who are they?” he inquired, his own voice sounding groggy now.
“Goddesses.” Normally, Amira would have thought twice before answering this question, but she was half dreaming. Almost talking in her sleep. She remembered how heavy her lids were, but the moment she let them drift shut was already lost to her.
Instead, her drowsy mind was focused on goddesses. On Ven—the goddess of hatred and vengeance—the cruelest one of them all. The most powerful one. Sidony—the goddess of all living creatures. And Destiny herself, with her cryptic ways and winding paths. The three strongest female gods. Others were just minor deities.
The male gods had no interest in her, but those three… “They yank my chain whenever they want to.” Amira admitted something she shouldn’t have under any circumstances.
“Are you telling me you have no free will?” The idea of someone playing with them as if they were mere chess pieces apparently worried him.
“Free will is a tricky thing,” she yawned and shifted, sinking deeper into his arms. Her head was pillowed by his chest and she found herself unable to stop the words from leaving her mouth, laden with sleep as they there. Probably damning herself worse than ever before. “Let’s say we reach a crossroads—it is up to us which path to choose, which way to go. But once the path is chosen, once … chosen,” she yawned again. “…the next crossroads is inevitable, or the end of the road in some cases. No matter what we do … to keep this game fair, there are signs for every road, defining its straights and curves so to speak, but … people never notice the warnings until … until it is too late.”
Amira had ignored a whole ton of them today. But right now, she could not find a single reason why she should be worried or afraid. She was too tired to think of the consequences. Too tired to even remember that there would be any. She felt like her mind was swimming through the clouds. And it brought a deceptive freedom.
“What you just told me—it doesn’t apply to you, does it?”
“Not really,” she admitted again. How many times can a person jump off the cliff?—a question arose. She had already done that. There was no point in keeping silent. “They make me jump through hoops whenever they want.”
“Something tells me you are not that obedient.” She felt him smile, but before she could say anything, he got serious again. “So let’s get this straight. We had to meet. I’ve seen what you can do, so it’s safe to say you could have avoided being captured. You didn’t. Which leads me to believe they’ve yanked your chain, as you’ve put it. But then, there’s Owen … Why didn’t you kill him? Or was this another order?”
“Not exactly,” Amira murmured. “That’s what they do sometimes. They strip my powers and—”
“And leave you in the hands of an animal?” His voice sounded so angry. She shivered, feeling the rumble in his chest, but he must have repented, because his next words came in a soft whisper. “Sleep.”
It was both a plea and a command, lulling her into succumbing. Amira might have hated being told what to do, but this time, she didn’t need to be told twice. Her body was only too eager to obey.
Chapter 22
It was late morning when Amira rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Slowly, the hazy fog lifted from her mind, a familiar scent invaded her nostrils, warmth enveloped her—and she became extremely aware of the fact that she was not alone in the bed.
Her upper body was draped over Raven’s chest, one of her hands wrapped around his shoulder, while the other lay by his side. Their legs were tangled, one of his legs pushed between hers. Or maybe it was her leg pushed between his—all she knew was that if it wasn’t for the pants he hadn’t removed last night, they would have been skin-to-skin.
Pants or not—this was the intimacy she’d never thought she would experience. There was something delicious about waking up in his arms. About his hands around her body. She raised her head to discover him watching her—his dark gaze so calm and gentle, she had no idea why every nerve ending of hers tingled, as if he’d been devouring her with his eyes.
Their eyes met, and for a few endless seconds all she could feel was heat flooding her. Her heart gained speed. She lifted herself on one elbow. Her other hand moved up to his cheek, and her back arched when she felt his fingers travel leisurely down her spine.
Her breath caught.
“You are not wearing your amulet,” she murmured, wondering how she had missed it. Was she so out if it yesterday?
“With you around, I figure it’s just an accessory.”
“If you had a hundred … ” Images came cascading through her mind—memories of a confession she should have never, ever breathed to any living being. “You took advantage of me,” Amira accused him. But she knew she had dug the hole all on her own. Now it was only a matter of time before the blade, constantly hanging above her head, would fall.
His hand stilled on her behind and she realized that time wasn’t just running short—it had run out. “Now it’s my turn.”
There was no point in laying blame, or even thinking about it. What was done was done. She couldn’t turn back the time, but she could enjoy what was left of it.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, erroneously thinking she would demand a secret for a secret. Not this time.
“Many things,” she spoke with his own words. She still wanted to hear the story. She did. Even though she no longer thought whatever secret he carried could save her. The dice were already cast. But being in his arms … there was just one thing she wanted. “Let’s start with how it will feel to have you inside me.”
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” His smile revealed a dimple on his right cheek she’d never seen before, but his hand didn’t move an inch from the curve of her behind.
“I’ll leave that to you. I prefer to act while I still have breath in my lungs.”
“You’ll leave what to me?” He flipped her to her back so quickly, whatever breath there was in her now left her lungs. And she was still alive. “We’ll talk about how you like to act without thinking later. Now—”
“You’ll wake me up when you are through?” she couldn’t help but tease. It was strange—Amira never thought she had it in her. But with him, it felt so right.
“When I’m through, I’ll be sure to ask how your dreams were,” he promised, his dark gaze capturing hers.
His hand ran over her skin in a beguiling caress she couldn’t not respond to—she arched her back, her breaths deepened. His fingers trailed down her silken neck, to her aching breasts, and he cupped one the same time as his thigh came higher to press more intimately against her.
A strangled moan escaped her mouth. Her body shuddered when he rubbed gently at her swollen flesh. Her leg came higher, to wrap around his hip, and the next time he moved, she met him.
“Off with your pants!” It should have been a command, but it came out more like a husky plea.
“Are you talking in your sleep already?” His fingers played with her nipple, the light touches maddening her. Her skin felt hyper-sensitized. Every stroke, every caress was like another log into a fire. Inside her, blazes roared.
“You are killing me,” she confessed, her voice breaking when he finally lowered his mouth to hers. It was the hottest kiss she had ever received. “Kill me some more…”
His laughter was rich and sexy. The sound traveled down her body in a seductive wave. But when his lips began to follow the way, she knew she was a goner.
His lips on her neck, on her breasts, continuing their journey to her navel—her stomach muscles contracted—the sensual onslaught was maddening. Anticipation—a living, breathing entity inside of her.
I need you…
She didn’t know whose voice it was—his or hers, but it mirrored
her every single desire. Her heart was banging like a fist on a door. Her breathing hitched, and it took her time to realize that the loud sound wasn’t coming from inside her.
“Ignore it,” he spoke against the skin of her lower stomach.
Amira wanted to. Dear gods, how she wanted to, but the banging persisted, and with it came an ugly foreboding—their time was up. It was time to face the music.
“I swear,” Raven muttered lifting his body from hers, “if I don’t find another army behind those doors, someone’s head is going to roll.”
“I think I’m flattered,” she said, pushing herself on her elbows. Her voice came out breathless, laced with desire, but the shadow in her eyes, for all she tried to hide it, made him pause.
“It’ll be just two seconds,” Raven promised. “You just stay here,” he commanded when it became apparent she would try to get up.
He marched to the door determined to boot away the intruder. “What?” he demanded on opening it. And froze in utter shock. Brea leapt with affright at the sound of his voice, that came out even harsher than he had intended, and ran hiding.
“I tried to give the two of you as much time as possible, but the girl is scared. She needed to see Bright Eyes.” Martha cast him an angry look and added, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Raven wanted to curse. He looked at himself, standing in the doorway half naked. Glanced at the girl, curled in the farthest corner of the hallway, sobbing. And brushed an open palm down his face.
“She’ll come in a minute,” he spoke to Martha’s back, as the woman hurried after the young witch. Gently, he closed the door, his palms landing on the wood, and he all but banged his forehead into the surface. His body felt strained all over. He sighed. Is there anything that can’t go wrong?
“You are just frustrated,” she answered a question he didn’t think he’d voiced.
Raven didn’t turn. He heard the swish of the sheets, her bare legs landing on the floor—his mind easily supplied the visual to the sounds. But to actually see her discard any bedding she could’ve used to wrap herself in and stand up … now he couldn’t turn. It was too much for him.
Till Death And Beyond (Witch World) Page 19