“Uh-huh…” he swallowed, “you are right. A perpetual hard-on can be very frustrating.”
She padded around the bed, the sound growing nearer and nearer, until he could feel her behind him. “Poor baby.” She placed a kiss where his neck met his back. She came even closer. So close, he could finally feel her breasts pressing against his body.
She wrapped her arms around his torso and whispered, “I have to go. If you can, remember me…”
Raven would have thought her last sentence a joke, or more of a sensuous plea, but there was something in her voice that chafed at his senses and made the hair on his nape prickle.
She let him go. And the muscles in his shoulders turned to stone.
“Explain.” He pushed himself off the door, swiveling on his heels. His eyes landed on her as she made a beeline for the closet—even the view of her back too tantalizing for him at the moment. But Raven refused to let her out of his sight for a single second. He had a strange feeling and he didn’t know why.
“Pay no attention to me.” She cracked the doors of his closet open, and without so much as a glance took out a few garments. Raven didn’t miss the fact that their clothes were mixed together, or that he never thought seeing a woman get dressed could be this arousing. She wasn’t even trying to catch his attention, Raven was certain. Her moves were assured, but too hasty for any kind of play. And yet, she held him immobile.
“How am I supposed to not pay attention when you are dancing around in your birthday suit?” He would have paid attention to her even if she was covered from head to toe. She had something far beyond physical beauty. She had courage and conviction. She had spirit and heart. Most importantly, they had a connection—they understood each other.
“I could play coy, I guess,” she sashayed, exaggerating the sway of her hips. “But I find it rather tiresome and time-consuming.” Time is what I don’t have, he read loud and clear from the deep light-blue eyes.
Raven knew he should have followed that thread, but it was when she had halted in front of him, kissed his lips, and turned. It had scrambled his brain completely. It took time for him to understand why she stood with her back to him, her hair pushed aside.
“You don’t have to play anything,” he whispered into her ear, his fingers fumbling to button up her yellow dress. He loved how tall and graceful she stood—how she didn’t have to go on the tip of her toes to reach him. How he could reach her. “Unless you’ll invite me to play with you…”
Amira waited for him to finish with his task and only then answered, “If I survive today, I swear I’ll invite you anywhere you want.”
It was a sizzling pledge she’d given, but the dark possibility he sensed behind those words forced him to abandon his idea of letting her go with Brea. It took him all but ten seconds to get dressed and open the door for her. The girl might be traumatized, but the urgency inside him to protect Amira from the unknown foe was undeniable.
She moved past him, approached the girl who was still curled in the corner, and kneeled in front of her. Despite her tear-soaked cheeks, Brea appeared to be calmer. No longer was she trembling while wrapped in a small ball, nor was she sobbing with her forehead pressed against her raised knees. She breathed deeply so concentrated on taking air in and pushing it out of her lungs, she stared forward with eyes oblivious to the world.
Whatever Martha had told her helped in shooing the fear away. Temporarily as it may be. Amira didn’t believe wounds this grave could be healed with mere words. Unfortunately, her ability lay in knitting flesh and removing bruises. Healing the cuts of the soul was a foreign concept to her.
She reached for Brea’s hand, and the moment the contact was made, the girl’s eyes widened. What looked back at her was something wild and feral, the gaze of a cornered animal who was all too aware it had no teeth to defend itself. For a flash of a second, before she realized who it was touching her, her pixie-like features contorted with dread. Her alabaster skin turned ashen.
The dark blue eyes focused on Amira, and she relaxed a fraction. Until her gaze traveled higher and to the left—to where Raven stood leaning against the wall. She cringed, but she didn’t let go of Amira. If anything, her fingers clutched onto her wrists even more fiercely.
For a man his size, it had to be some feat to appear as unobtrusive as he did. Though it wasn’t his height or the width of his shoulders that announced his presence to Amira. She knew she would never mistake his energy, not even if she lived a thousand years.
“Tell me you have him bound,” the silent tone of Brea’s voice came out pleading, laced with desperation.
Amira glanced at Raven and realized it was a lie she would not utter. Not even to placate the girl.
She’d insinuated as much to Mode. But the lie had been a lie then. She hadn’t even pretended to pass it off as the truth. This felt different. This wasn’t a joke. Amira refused to sully whatever it was growing between them. It didn’t matter to her that they had no future. Raven had proved that he wasn’t ashamed of what she was—she could only do the same.
“How old are you?” Amira inquired, thinking she had to go about this the other way around.
“Nineteen.” Brea let herself be pulled to her feet, coming into her full height—which barely reached Amira’s shoulder blades. No wonder she’d mistaken her for a child. With her slight build and a pixie-face that Amira was convinced hid behind swollen eyes and a red nose, she looked so young.
“Then you probably know that what is freely given is worth a thousand times more than anything a slave can offer.” She led Brea down the stairs, to a place where she always found inner peace.
“You value betrayal so much?” the girl exclaimed, pulling them to a stop just outside the entrance to the sun-chamber. “Because it’s all they can offer!”
“Who betrayed you?” Amira asked, opening the door. The wild, pure energy washed over her the moment they stepped inside, and she knew she had made the right decision in bringing Brea here. Even if the young witch didn’t see or feel the vibrations in the air the same way Amira did, the girl’s breathing evened out and her hold on Amira loosened.
“My mother used to tell me not to trust any man who had power over you. Why didn’t I listen…?” she murmured under her breath as if talking with herself. Took a seat. Sighed. “He used to call me Goldilocks…” Brea whispered again, not aware she was caressing her chopped-off strands of hair, and Amira had an ugly suspicion it was Brea herself who had hacked her locks.
Her expression changed suddenly into pure disgust and she spat out, “until he found out who I was—and then my hair became nothing but a way to hold me down.”
She didn’t sob anymore. It was rage that seeped through her pores—rage Amira didn’t like one bit. While she was not against punishing the guilty, this was something else. Something Brea confirmed with her next words. “If I had any real power, I would annihilate all the monsters.”
Except in Brea’s head, monsters were not only the ones who had violated her, or the one who had betrayed her to the Venlordians. Monsters were … all men.
“None of us are pure as snow. Men. Witches. We all are monsters then,” Amira reflected. “Some act like them. Some hide them. While some—only look like them.”
“I would rather be among witches. In the Mountains.”
“In a few days you’ll have your opportunity.” It was only a matter of days now before the witches would arrive. Amira still didn’t know how everything was supposed to go down. Who would survive. If any would. It was out of her hands completely. But the ones who left could take Brea with them.
“I can’t stay here this long. I can’t…” her voice cracked again, and she trembled.
“Remember what I told you about monsters?” Amira glanced around, her eyes running through the vista behind the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, through the verdure she had inside. They went to the birds, to Martha silently standing near the farthest wall, to Raven, who was barely even in the room—giving them p
rivacy; to a silver wolf, who padded through the opened door.
“Some—just look like them.”
Brea gasped when she saw the animal, her eyes flaring wide—and yet, there was not a shred of fear darkening her face.
“This is Shadow,” Amira introduced the wolf. “If you’ll let him, he will guard—”
“He talks!” Brea stretched her arms to Shadow. “No one ever taught me that was possible.”
A lot of knowledge was lost in time, Amira thought. Though this particular little gem was possible only because of who Shadow was. The witches had lost the ability to communicate with animals eons ago.
“Don’t try to abuse him and he’ll be your friend.” Amira wanted to make sure Brea understood that Shadow was not a slave to command.
“I would never…” she breathed in amazement when the wolf let himself be petted. “He’s magnificent and … hungry, I think.”
That too, Amira thought, and turned to Martha. “Do you think you can find something for the wolf?”
Martha’s pale brown eyes flared wide—surprise, confusion and fear flashed through them. “You want a carnivore in my kitchen?” she asked when she finally found her voice.
“He won’t harm anyone.”
“Uh-huh!” The woman didn’t seem convinced of the meat-eater’s benevolence. But she swallowed her dread and followed the girl and the wolf.
The moment they left, Amira turned to face Raven, and his gaze burned straight through her flesh and into her soul.
“So,” he approached slowly. “What is my monster?” So much for giving them privacy…
He closed on her and gently trailed his fingers down her neck, sending ribbons of pleasure down her body. He didn’t even have to kiss her, and she was thirsting for him. For his touch. Breathing was once again becoming a problem. It was as if someone had managed to suck out the air from the room.
She lifted her chin, “What?” Their lips were so close, focusing on his words was beyond her abilities.
“Do I need to check for horns or claws?”
It was then that the meaning of his question penetrated her mind. She stepped even closer and placed her palm on his chest, right above his strongly-beating heart. “Your monster lies much deeper than you are looking for. And it’s eating you alive.” She clenched a fist over his heart, “You continue to lock everything in, and one day, it will tear you apart.”
Raven closed his fingers over her fist. When he was with her, it didn’t feel like he had any control over what he did or didn’t lock in. It had always felt like she could see right through him. And at first he had fought it, true; but then—things changed.
Right now, having her so close, he didn’t want to think about monsters. There were too many of them, and sooner or later they would pounce.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to heal every wound you encounter. Some are better left alone.”
“Do you even believe it yourself? Is that why you search for salvation?” she demanded.
Not salvation, Raven thought. Some things were impossible.
Redemption? she voiced his deepest hope. Only she didn’t voice it. Her lips remained closed, her eyes focused on him.
Her voice was forever in his head. “How do you do that?”
“The same way you do.” Her answer didn’t explain much, but he did remember the times he thought he was going crazy from the strangeness of it all.
“I don’t appreciate you driving me mad, by the way.”
“It never was my goal,” Amira confessed. But she was not going to make any excuses. “At first I needed to know what I was up against, so I tried to break through your shields. They proved impenetrable. Then, when I had a chance, I realized I couldn’t do that to you.” She just laid it out in the open.
Amira was running against time now—she decided to risk revealing everything. There wouldn’t be a second chance, so she’d be damned if she didn’t take advantage of this one. And even if whatever he guarded could not save her anymore, Amira believed that maybe it could save him.
For too long he had let nightmares haunt him, because he believed he deserved it. She didn’t. He’d been too young to be the culprit of his family’s tragedy—Amira could stake her life on it. She had always trusted in her instincts and they told her that whatever he thought he’d done that was so awful only appeared so to a boy. Regrets were normal, but guilt … She was convinced it was because he had survived when they hadn’t.
“You also read minds.” His eyes narrowed. Her hand slipped from his hold. Amira’s senses prickled.
“Passing thoughts,” she corrected, trying to concentrate on the strange vibes she felt in the air. The pure energy around her was turning into tainted wisps of smoke that wrapped around them. “Digging into someone’s mind can be dangerous—I never do that.” If a person fought her, she could damage their brain. For Amira, hearing the unshielded thoughts was usually more than enough. She didn’t want more voices in her head.
All of a sudden, Raven doubled over, grabbing for his chest as if it pained him, and took a step back.
No, no, no, no! Everything inside her screamed. “Fight it!” Amira yelled out loud. She watched as the smoke tightened its hold around Raven’s throat, and couldn’t help but grab for her own. “Whatever it is you see or feel—ignore it,” she pleaded. But it was no use. She knew what was happening and no one, not even her, could fight and win against it.
“Go,” she told him with her heart heavy. The putrid spell wouldn’t follow him. As for her… Amira almost broke down when she saw him hesitate.
Goodbye, she mouthed, and all but shoved him out of the room. She didn’t want him to see this. She didn’t want to die in his arms. She didn’t want to turn into another nightmare for him.
Amira slumped into the chair moments before a cold grasp squeezed her heart. Time was slowing down. A feminine form was appearing in front of her.
She was on the verge of asking Hope to be quick, but the words stuck in her throat. She refused to beg. Instead, she lifted her eyes, slowly stood up, and demanded, “What did you do to Raven?”
“As always, no respect,” Hope’s soft but accusing voice echoed in the room. “But I do like what you did here.” With those words every single plant withered. The birds fell off the branches—dead. Her green sanctuary turned into a soulless wasteland.
“You bitch!” Amira couldn’t contain her anger. Seeing this place turn to dust was just like feeling a dagger twist inside her chest.
She tensed her fingers, gathering every last drop of energy she could muster. She figured that if she was to die anyway, fighting was the best way to go. But this power—to transform energy into an actual energy ball—was too new to Amira. The process too slow. She didn’t even have enough to do more than mess up Hope’s hair, as she found herself pinned against the wall.
The goddess approached her in all of her glorious radiance and tsked under her breath, “You wanted to know what I did to Raven?” She stopped in front of Amira. “Not much. Or maybe I should say a lot. I should probably congratulate you. A few more days and he would have resisted.”
Congratulate her? Amira gaped. This was like a bad dream. That’s why they didn’t give her those few more days, wasn’t it? “So what now? You kill me?”
“There’s a huge commotion up there because of you,” Hope said, brushing off her auburn hair. “And some are very displeased.”
“I’m so-o sorry.” Amira was still unable to move a single inch. “Next time I’ll try to roll out the carpet when you arrive.”
“That’s just it. There isn’t going to be a next time.” Hope smiled, and Amira was forced to stifle a shiver. “We understood that while you may hate dying, you do not fear it. Not really. And that we went the wrong way about it.”
Amira’s breath caught. Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react, she chanted inwardly, convinced that the decision the goddess had brought her would af
fect her in a way she’d better not show.
“It is not you we need to kill, but him.” Hope traced the line of a small, taunting smile with her index finger, which was at odds with the icy gaze, but all Amira could see … was blood.
She forgot her determination to stay calm. She paled. Her hands started shaking. Fear was crawling under her skin, while she could do nothing to stop from gasping as she saw the vision of Raven taking his last breath in front of her eyes.
Begging was useless—she knew from experience of other women before her. Fear was only a hindrance. So when a scarlet pall of rage descended over her eyes, Amira snapped, “You do this and I swear I’ll find a way to annihilate you all. I vow it!”
Hope laughed. The goddess had actually laughed and vanished, leaving Amira free from the shackles pinning her to the wall, and with pending doom looming over her head.
Chapter 23
For about an hour Raven rode, letting Lightning set the pace and course. He didn’t feel the need to run away so much as he needed to sort things out in his head. Without the voices being there. Without the images—the ones he had believed to be memories—plaguing him.
He tried to go step by step through events to discover how he ended up on Lightning, miles away from Amira; but all he could see was her pushing him away. Her eyes had been filled with so much pain, he still felt it to the marrow of his bones.
He shouldn’t have left her. He had a strong suspicion she was in danger. Her strange moods, even stranger words … him being so far … fear built in the pit of his stomach. He halted, turned around and kicked Lightning into a gallop, sending him tearing across the fields.
He had to reach her. Now. Yet no matter how fast he rode, the look in her eyes stayed in front of him. Could he have said something? Raven wondered. His memories were so fragmented and full of holes, it only reinforced his urgency to find her. Nothing human could have done this. And after what she’d admitted a day before … he was drawing some pretty ugly conclusions.
Till Death And Beyond (Witch World) Page 20