by Kresley Cole
My heart hurt just to think about it. If another of Jack's opportunities came up, would he take it? At least, in time?
"Things will be different when you come home with me. I'll teach you about the game. We'll investigate the histories and chronicles I've collected. I'll teach you more about your powers."
"But you won't simply tell me about them?"
He pointed to his swords. "I can tell you how to wield a sword, but you won't have built up the strength to hold it yet. You won't have practiced. How much success will you have brandishing it in a conflict?"
"You're not my only resource. I can get help from my grandmother. Not to mention Matthew. And he doesn't require anything in return."
A troubled expression crossed Aric's face. "Empress, let him rest." His tone left me with a sense of unease--
The timer went off, startling me.
Before I could blink, Aric was in front of me, reaching for my hand. He expected me to fend off bloodthirsty zombies by myself, yet offered assistance down from a counter?
"What can I do to help?"
"Find some plates and forks."
Once we'd sat down to our meal, I said, "It's not as fancy as you generally like things."
"The company is so exquisite, she makes everything so."
"You can be smooth--I give you that."
"Labu apetiti. Good appetite." He took a bite. "This is surprisingly delicious."
"You're just saying that." I sampled mine, my eyes going wide. "It's really good."
Between his slow grins, the hot food, and the cold beer, I started to relax. By the time I'd finished my plate, my belly was full, my mind buzzed.
"I sense questions simmering in you." He appeared as relaxed as I felt. "Ask them."
He'd once told me I'd asked more questions in this life than in the ones before combined.
"Why did Matthew call you Tredici? Is that your last name?" I didn't even know Aric's surname. Of course, it'd taken me three months just to get his first.
"Tredici is Italian for thirteen, my card number. I believe the Fool hailed from Italy once."
Matthew had introduced himself as "Matthew Mat Zero Matto." Il Matto meant The Fool in Italian.
As I turned over this new information, Aric said, "My last name--and yours as well--is Dominija."
Before I could stop myself, I'd tried it out in my head: Evangeline Greene Dominija. That'd be a bitch to bubble in on a test.
I didn't bother to argue the point with him. "Will you tell me why Matthew owed you a debt?"
"I kept a secret for him."
Was I finally going to discover this connection between the two? "And that would be . . . ?"
". . . not a secret if I told you."
"But he reneged."
Aric's lips curled. "And yet I do not."
Dead end.
When he rose to get more beers, I asked, "What were my given names in the past?"
He hesitated on his way back. "I've uttered those names . . . I felt . . ." At length, he said, "I'd rather not discuss this." Still so affected after all this time?
He sat once more, opening the bottles.
I gazed at his right hand, at the four miniature icons that represented his kills: a white star, navy-blue weighing scales, two black horns, and a gold chalice. "Do you ever feel the heat of battle?"
"I did. I learned to control it when I met you." He peered at my own icons: a lantern and a pair of raised fingers. "The Fool told me you consider your Empress nature to be a separate entity. A red witch."
"He told you that?" How embarrassing! It made me sound like a psycho. Jack knew about it, but only because he'd listened to my story on tape.
Aric shrugged his armored shoulders. "After the Flash, I saw you restrain your Empress nature again and again. I was curious how."
"Jack helps with that."
Aric's lips thinned. "When you stabbed me with your claws, but withheld your poison, he wasn't near. Did this 'red witch' not whisper for you to end me when I was defenseless before you? Yet you protected me instead."
"That's true," I admitted. "She's icon crazy, but I controlled her. When I told Matthew that, he wanted to know if I could invoke her."
"You've reined in your red witch--because you've never truly unleashed her. You must learn how."
"Pardon? I didn't hear you correctly. I poisoned a mine full of cannibals. My vines cracked the Alchemist's house like an egg."
"And still you drew on only a fraction of your power."
For so long, I'd feared going full-on Empress--and never turning back to Evie. Just when I was starting to feel more in control, Aric and Matthew wanted to amp up the red witch. "Say I could free her more. What if she wanted to kill you?"
"I wouldn't fight you. So you'd have to figure out how to rein her in at any time."
"It's too dangerous." In my first combat against Death, I'd embraced her. I remembered telling myself, I am the red witch! . . . I'm going to win the entire game! Which would mean that all my friends would be dead. "I've been doing okay."
"Some of the remaining Arcana have unspeakable powers. You'll need to invoke your witch to survive--just as those Bagmen summoned their strength to rise."
"Unless I stop the game."
"There are some who'll keep coming, even if they don't have to."
"Like the Emperor."
At the mere mention of that card, Aric's demeanor changed, his irises darkening to cold amber once more.
"What happened with him?"
"It's a matter too wearisome for our night together." He drank deep. "Tell me about your grandmother."
His expression was so stark that I let him change the subject. For now. "Don't you already know as much as I do? Since you trespassed in my thoughts for so long."
"Not constantly. I did have my own life to go about. Such as it was."
My chest squeezed at his words. I drank to cover my dismay. "I don't remember her all that well. Sometimes my memories contradict each other."
"How so?"
"I'll see her as kind and affectionate. In the next instance, I'll recall her wanting me to become 'vicious.' " What if she tried to convince me to take out other cards? My friends?
Aric, even.
Maybe Arcana weren't inherently evil. Maybe our chroniclers or relatives molded us. "In any case, I swore to my mom I'd find her. So I will."
"And I will help you. You know sourcing is a talent of mine--doesn't matter if I'm looking for ballet shoes or my wife's grandmother."
"Yeah, I don't see that working out too well. She was furious at me when I mooned over your card."
"You forget how charming I can be."
Never. "I once asked Matthew if you would prevent me from reaching Gran. He told me the subject bored you, that you don't believe in her as I do. So why would you help me?" I finished my beer.
Like a blur, Aric had another round on the table. "As a Tarasova, she knows a great many things."
"You didn't answer the question."
"I don't have to believe that she holds the key to the game's end. You do--and I believe in you."
Smooth, tricksy knight. "What's the difference between a Tarasova and a chronicler?" How did Gran differ from Gabriel's people?
"Chroniclers are historians and guides. Some say each Tarasova is gifted with the sight. Others say she must be a minor Arcana."
The last time I'd seen Gran, her brown eyes had twinkled as she'd told me, "You're going to kill them all."
A chill ran through me.
"Sieva?"
I changed the subject. "Now that you're making the effort to trust me, will you tell me about your childhood?"
He inclined his head. "I told you my father was a warlord, but he was also a noted scholar. He raised me to be both as well. I had martial practice every day, then reading, then debates after dinner." Aric peeled at his beer label, then smoothed it back with his elegant fingers. "I can't imagine what he would think about all that mankind has learned. In his day
, everyone believed the world was flat."
Aric had grown up in that age, and yet I'd expected him to act like a modern boyfriend? That he'd come this far was astounding. "What was your mother like?"
"She was merry, quick to laugh. She and my father always wanted another child, blaming it on me: 'If you weren't such a wonderful son . . .' I could ask for no better parents."
"You miss them." After all this time?
"Every single day out of hundreds of thousands."
What could I say to that? Anything I came up with sounded trite. Silence fell over us.
Aric drank, lost in thought. And I knew he was remembering the night he'd killed them. . . .
30
Hot water poured over me in the upstairs bathroom, but it did nothing to shower away my buzz.
Or my confusion.
After dinner, Jack hadn't checked in, and worry preyed on me. So I'd grabbed my bag and told Aric good night.
As I'd left the kitchen, he'd said to my back, "You once told me I was so good at this game because it's all I'll ever have." The sadness in his voice had drawn me up short. "Your words were true, though I didn't wish them to be. Not then. Or now."
I'd heard Aric enraged, playful, fierce, in pain, and in lust. I'd never heard this soft sadness before.
In a murmur, he'd added, "I am ready to defy the will of gods and the dictates of fate to possess you, and yet a mere mortal stands in my way."
My shoulders had stiffened, and I'd hurried away as if chased.
Now as the water sluiced over me, I raised my hand to my mouth, tracing my lips. My emotions might be in total turmoil, but my body wasn't. I equally desired Aric and Jack.
I adored Jack's raw passion; I craved Aric's seething intensity.
Both had given me pleasure--and heartache. . . .
Once I'd finished with the shower, I returned to my room. I locked the door behind me and removed my hoodie to bundle up for a pillow. Lying back in my sleeping bag, I stared at the ceiling. What was I going to do?
I felt connected to Aric in inexplicable ways. At his castle, he and I had settled in together. We'd read in his firelit study, talking through the night. We'd been happy, his home nearly becoming my own.
Jack and I had never lived together per se, always out on the road--
My bug-out bag! I'd left it in the bathroom, forgetting Jack's harsh lessons. Maybe he should've been harder on me.
I rushed from the room, skidding to a stop in the hallway.
Aric had just exited the steamy bathroom. He wore a towel. Nothing else. His lean face was clean-shaven, his wet hair in disarray, his cheeks tinged with color.
He spied me there, his lips parting. His eyes began to glitter, and I was momentarily blinded by the sight of him. Like staring at the sun.
Glorious man.
When my gaze dipped, his magnificent body tensed, as if I'd struck him. Sinews of muscle contracted, making the black slashing tattoos across his torso appear to move.
I'd wanted to kiss every inch of those runes. I'd never had the chance.
A drop of water trickled down the center of his chest, past defined pecs and rigid abs to his blond goodie trail. . . . My mouth went dry.
He rasped, "You want this?"
I raised my gaze, gasping at the dark hunger in his expression. My mind blanked. Want his body? How could I not? He was pure temptation.
"I meant this"--he held up my bag--"but I could easily be persuaded to share anything else my wife might desire."
Say something, Eves. Words would be good here.
He closed in on me, all lethal grace and harnessed power. I realized I'd been backing away from him when I met the wall. He kept coming until we were toe to toe.
The damp heat from his skin was like an embrace. Up this close, I could see the blond tips of his eyelashes.
He tossed my bag past me into the bedroom. Then his gaze dropped to my tank top. It hugged my breasts, outlining them.
"I recognize these clothes. It fills me with satisfaction to see you dressed in them. Not as much satisfaction as when I undress you, of course."
He might be inexperienced, but he was naturally sensual--his every movement, his expressions, even the cadence of his accented words brought to mind promised pleasures.
I was out of my league.
"A week ago, you were naked in my bed for the second time. I kissed you. Petted you." He eased down to say at my ear, "I was about to taste you once more."
My breaths shallowed. "B-but then you broke my heart."
"I'll mend it. I'll repair the damage I've done between us. In these games, I've trusted you when I shouldn't have, and didn't trust when I should have had faith." He cupped my face with both palms. "If you could see your way to forgiveness . . ."
I bit my bottom lip. "I can forgive you. But that doesn't mean I want to put myself in a situation like that again." When he leaned his head in, I said, "Aric, we can't kiss. I'm not doing anything with you. With either of you."
Was he gauging my resolve? "Then we won't kiss. Just let me touch your stunning face." He caressed the backs of his fingers over one of my cheekbones, then along my jawline. "It's a luxury I will always savor."
I had to fight to keep my eyes open, to keep my body from moving against his.
"So beautiful. I won't stop until you're mine. I won't ever rest. Es tevi milu."
I breathed, "What does that mean?"
He smoothed his elegant fingers over me the way a sculptor would touch his statue. "I love you."
Answering words bubbled up, but I couldn't be in love with Aric. "There's a difference between love and desire," I said, reminding him--and myself.
"If all I wanted was a bedmate, then why do I feel such jealousy? Why was I racked with misery to be parted from you? For one like me, a week is a blink of an eye, yet it felt interminable."
He laid his palms over my shoulders, ever so lightly grazing his thumbs over my throat. His hands shook, as if he was handling the most priceless treasure in the entire world. "By all the gods, I desire you, but you must know that you have my love. It's given, sieva. Wholly entrusted to you. Have a care with it."
I struggled to resist him. To remember why I should.
"Our bond goes back over lifetimes; you must feel it."
I shook my head hard, an unspoken lie. I felt endless years between us, a tie that never died or faded. Something that endured epochs. Something mysterious and . . . good ?
I thought, I feared, that he was my . . .
Soul mate.
"These days without you have been more miserable for me than all the centuries before." He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip, making my heart race. "Tell me you'll be mine. Tell me I'll never have to know this desolation again."
At that moment, I wanted to tell him anything he needed to hear--
Without warning, he lifted me against the wall, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck.
"What are you doing?" I inhaled sharply as desire flooded me. His addictive scent swept me up.
"I need to be closer to you. Why can I never get close enough to you?" He glanced down. His chest had dampened my tank top, which was now see-through. His eyes flared bright, his voice roughening as he said, "You tempt me beyond measure." He pressed harder between my legs.
When my head fell back, he nuzzled my neck, giving me only hints of kisses. Warm breaths feathered over my throat, making me shiver with need.
Why had I told him we couldn't kiss?
This closeness was as arousing as the real thing. More so. Knowing he longed to press his lips against me--but was restraining himself--drove me crazy.
He continued his ghost of a kiss until I was panting, my arms tightening around his neck. I could feel his muscles shudder against my body as he held himself in check.
He dragged his head up to face me. Our breaths mingled as I stared into his starry eyes, lost in them. Still he didn't take my mouth. Just made me yearn for more.
Which I couldn't have. Not tonight.
The ribbon I carried in my pocket seemed to burn me. Just doan give me anything else to hurt on.
"Aric, you have to let me go."
"Is that what you truly want?" Confusion shone in that glittering gaze.
"Please."
He lowered me to my feet. "I release you. For now. But you will be mine, sieva."
As I pressed him away, the sight of my pale hands against him hit me again. How many times had I clung to his bare chest, desperate to get closer?
When he stepped back, I turned toward my room in a daze. I shut the door, then leaned against it, trembling.
After that, everything seemed to be in slow motion: walking to my sleeping bag, checking the battery light on the transceiver, bedding down.
I stared at the ceiling again, trying to ignore my overheated body. What felt like hours passed before my eyes closed.
Just before I drifted off, I sensed Aric in the room with me.
Was he gazing down at me? He thought I was asleep!
In a soft rasp, he said, "There's so much about the game I could teach you. So much about life you could teach me. Let's begin this, little wife."
I dreamed of Death, reliving a memory of his from when he'd been close to my age. Was this one of the visions Matthew had wanted to give me before it was too late?
The scene was night, the wind whipping off the Baltic in a frenzied summer storm. Aric was returning from an errand of some kind.
As I ride past familiar rune stones, my stallion's hooves pound the ground, rivaling the gods' thunder.
The gods that have cursed our settlement with sickness.
Were they angered by the lavish festivities my family held two days ago? Is the House of Dominija guilty of hubris?
Though I want to follow this line of reasoning, to deduce a cause, my thoughts are too chaotic. Some malady has befallen me as well. Yet instead of suffering like the others in the village, I feel strong.
Stronger than I ever have.
Earlier, I crushed a rock in my palm, crushed it to dust. Each day my power and speed escalate. I am nearing some dark precipice, but I know not what.
When I arrive home, I have to conceal my unnatural swiftness, lest a vassal see. I stride along a stone lane to my father's hall. Just beyond the front doorway, I find him pacing, awaiting my arrival. "Did you employ the physic?" he asks.
Aric's father is a towering blond man with broad shoulders. Though his eyes are ice-blue to Aric's amber, there is a distinct resemblance to his son. I understand their language as if it were my own; Matthew must've bridged this vision for me.