Nevernight

by Jay Kristoff

  She lunged, nipped at his lip with her teeth. Hard enough to draw blood. Salt on her tongue. The flame rising inside her, drowning the fear. He tried to pull away but her fist closed around him, squeezing. He froze, groaning and closing his eyes. A smile curled her lips, filled her with drunken warmth. This towering lump of muscle, this killer, and she could hold him still as a frightened deer with one hand.

  She was afraid. Dizzy with it. Stumbling. But beneath it all, she realized she wanted him. Wanted to drink him in. To own him. And the fear of it, the anticipation, was only intensifying that desire. It didn’t matter at that moment, not the places she’d been or the things she’d done. Not the miles of murder ahead or behind. Just the smell of him, musk and maleness and lust, filling her lungs. The heat of him in her hand, the pulse pounding like a hammer beneath his skin, swallowing his sighs as she found his mouth, her tongue seeking his own. He groaned as she kissed him, deep and long and warm, hands wrapped in her hair as she pushed him hard, back against the wall, muscle slapping stone.

  Her lips were on his throat now, tongue tracing the burning line of his pulse. One hand exploring the smooth swell of his chest, the other still stroking him as he quivered and sighed. Still afraid, breath trembling, she sank lower, lips trailing over his collarbone to his chest. With a gentle hand, he stopped her, searching her eyes, blood still smudged on his mouth.

  “Mia … you don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  With deliberate slowness, she locked her eyes with his and sank to her knees. Both hands stroking his trembling length, smiling as he leaned his head back and groaned. She’d never done this before, unsure of herself despite all Aalea’s lessons on the topic. But she wanted to possess him with a fierceness that drowned anything of the fear left inside her.

  She touched her tongue to his burning skin, felt him jump. Goddess, he was so hard. Opening her mouth, she licked him from root to tip, smiling as he groaned. Tasting a salty sweetness at his crown, hot on her tongue. She kissed him, up and down, his knees close to buckling. And wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, she plunged him into her mouth.

  She lost herself then. Instinct driving her forward. Hardly believing the smooth heat of him. Fumbling at first, uncertain beneath the lust, and he wrapped his fists in her hair and gently guided her, up and down his length, cheeks hollowed, pumping her fist at his root.

  He was hers, then. Completely. Utterly. Helpless. Daughters, she was almost overcome with it. The sense of absolute control, delighting in the differing moans and shudders she elicited as she worked her tongue, groaning herself as hunger took hold. There was only one thing she wanted at that moment. No shivering virgin on bloodstained sheets, now. No girl held prisoner by her nightmares. No frightened maid.

  His grip on her hair tightened, his pulse quickened. Chest shuddering, not enough air in his lungs.

  “Mia,” he gasped. “I…”

  She felt him buck, pulsing in her mouth. Pulling her closer, more, more. His back arched, his legs trembled. And then he groaned her name, every muscle taut, filling her mouth with spurts of sweet, salty heat. She moaned, intoxicated with the power of it. Continuing to pump his length with her fist, milking every last drop until he gasped with the pleasurepain of it all, pushing her away, dragging shuddering breaths into his chest.

  She climbed up off her knees, a wicked smile on gleaming lips. Chuckling at the look in his eyes, the disbelief and hunger and afterglow. He was barely able to stand or breathe or talk. All this, she’d done to him in a handful of heartbeats.

  This is what Aalea meant, she realized.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  He blinked hard. Shook his head. “Perhaps give me a minute.”

  Laughing, she turned and flopped onto his bed. The sheets were still warm, his scent wrapped up in the fur. He collapsed beside her, naked though she was still fully clothed. Dragging the saltlocks from his eyes, he looked at her across the pillows.

  “Please take note that I’m not complaining, but what was that for?”

  “Does there have to be a reason?”

  “… Usually.”

  “I like you.” Mia shrugged. “And I wanted to see if I could. Before Shahiid Aalea brings in some virile young Liisian slaveboy for us to practice on.”

  Tric laughed briefly. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the whole truth.”

  “I … don’t like being alone. The things I see when I close my eyes…”

  She frowned, shaking her head as words failed. Tric ran a fingertip down her cheek, over the swell of her lips.

  “I have my daemons too. And I like you, truly. I just wonder … is this wise?”

  “What’s ‘this’ mean?”

  “Well, this. Us.” He waved at the dark around them. “We’re not here long. Even assuming we’re initiated as Blades, we’ll be sent to different Chapels. We’ll be assassins, Mia. The life we lead … it’s not one that ends in happy ever after.”

  “Is that what you think I want? Happy ever after?”

  “That’s the riddle, isn’t it?” Tric sighed. “I don’t know what you want.”

  She rolled across the bed, leaned up on one elbow above him. Long black hair draped across his skin, staring down into those sweet hazel eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

  “True,” he smiled.

  She kissed him then, mouth open to his. Running one hand down his chest, over the hills and troughs of his abdomen, feeling the muscles harden in contrast to the softness of his lips. Eyes closed. Alone in the dark, and not alone at all.

  Breaking the kiss, she studied his face. Those awful scrawls of hatred on his skin. The scars. Those beautiful, bottomless eyes beyond.

  “Just keep the dreams away. That’s all I ask. Will you do that for me?”

  He searched her eyes. Nodded slow. “I can do that.”

  She took his hand, pulled it close. Pushed it against her breast, guiding it to the tautness of her belly, slipping it down into her britches. His fingers running through the thatch of her hair, searching lower still, her breath catching in her lungs.

  She felt him part her lips, moaned as his fingers gently curled against her. She reached down, seeking his cock again, but he pushed her onto her back, the deft movements of his hand sending delightful shivers up her spine.

  “My turn,” he whispered.

  Mia leaned back, moaning as he kissed her neck, hissing encouragement as he bit her hard, harder. She wrapped her fingers in his hair as he tugged up her shirt, groaning as his tongue circled the hardening swell of her nipple. He took her into his mouth, suckling, his fingers still working some kind of magik between her legs. Warmth radiating out from her center, her thighs shivered, soaked with need. He snapped the ties on her britches, dragged them down around her ankles, caught up in her boots. She kicked them free, one leg still entangled, writhing on the bed as he continued stroking her, working firm hard circles on her softest place.

  “O, Daughters,” she breathed. “O, yes.”

  He knelt between her legs, one hand caressing her breast, the other still lighting fires between her legs. And placing one last kiss on her lips, he pushed himself down her trembling body. Leaving a trail of burning kisses across her breasts, down her belly. She knew where he was headed, suddenly frightened again, eyes fluttering wide. Her hand snagging in his hair, pulling him up with a wince.

  He looked at her, a question burning in his eyes behind the blinding hunger.

  “… You don’t have to,” she breathed.

  “But I want to,” he said.

  He lifted her leg, kissing the tender skin on the back of her knee and making her shiver. Running fingertips slowly down her tightening belly. Dragging his lips down the inside of her thigh, stubble tickling, his breath damp on her skin. Lust at last overcoming her fear, she wrapped her fingers in his locks, urging him down. With deliberate, agonizing slowness, he spiraled lower, closer, licking the fresh sweat and making her groan, breath coming ever quicker. Pausing as
he reached her lips, breathing her in as if she were air and he a drowning man. She whimpered, silently pleading. And as he parted her folds with gentle fingers, she felt the first touch of his tongue.

  “O, Goddess,” she moaned.

  It flickered against her, gentle at first, trailing tiny circles around her swollen bud. Her back arched, legs rising into the air, toes pointed. He toyed with her, tongue flickering in and out, blowing cool breaths onto her between gentle assaults from his mouth. She was overcome with the sensation, exposed and completely at his mercy. But Daughters, she wanted it. Reveled in it. Grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling him in, willing him to press harder, to take her, taste her, set her on fire.

  He lapped rhythmically, and Mia thrashed on the bed, eyes rolling back in her head. Heat building inside her, torturous and enveloping, wordless pleas filling the air. Just as she thought she could take no more, she felt another pressure, urgent and hot. And, parting her wet lips with his hand, he slowly eased a finger inside her.

  Sparks in her mind. Blinding light in her eyes. Mia groaned as he went to work, curling and stroking, his rhythm inside matching the increasing pace of his tongue. She began to shake harder with each ragged gasp, writhing as a flood swelled inside her, pressing against some hidden dam, higher and hotter. Tric worked his fingers and his mouth, his tongue and his breath, stars colliding behind her eyes, curses slipping past her teeth “O, fuck, O, fuck, O, fuck” until the dam shattered, the flood spilled along with a wordless cry from her lips, spine arched, head thrown back as she silently screamed his name.

  Tric slowed, withdrawing his hand, still drawing gentle circles on her soaking lips with his tongue. And then, he kissed her, tenderly, as if her sex were her mouth and he were saying goodbye for the very last time.

  He lifted his head as Mia untangled her fingers from his hair. Shot her a crooked smile.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Where … the ’byss … did you learn to do that?”

  Grinning, the boy pulled himself up the bed, collapsed beside her. “Same place I learned to dance. Shahiid Aalea offered a few pointers, should I ever find myself seducing some marrowborn daughter or somesuch.”

  Mia sighed, heart still hammering in her breast. “I’ll thank her next time I see her.”

  Tric smiled, leaned over and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips, tongue entwined with his own. Reaching down, she found him still hard as stone, hot as iron. She wanted more. But a cool fear burned in back of her mind, rising in volume even as she kicked off her remaining pants leg, swung herself up and straddled him. She tore off her shirt and he lunged at her breasts, kissing and gnawing. Leaning back, she grasped the burning spear of his cock, pressing it against her aching lips. Running him back and forth, tempted to simply sink, inch by inch, all the way down.

  “I want you,” he breathed. “Mother of fucking Night, I want you.”

  Her lips found his, her breath to against his skin. “And I you. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know if it’s safe.”

  He took hold of her hips, mouth on her breasts, pulling her down as she dragged him along her aching lips. The tip of him slipped inside her—O holy Daughters, it felt good—and she almost lost herself then. Wanting. Needing. More than she’d wanted or needed before in her life. But she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulled him away from her aching nipples. Leaning back, she let him have another inch of her, groaning from her depths. But then she stopped. Tightened her grip and rose up off him, leaving herself empty. He sighed, but she smiled, giving him a playful slap and pushing him back down on the bed, sliding onto the sweat-soaked fur beside him.

  “Not tonight, Don Tric,” she whispered.

  Tric lay back in the tangle of pillows and furs. Trying in vain to catch his breath.

  “You’re a cold one, Pale Daughter,” he managed.

  She took his hand, pressed it between her legs. “Say again?”

  “Maw’s teeth, you’re just being sadistic now.”

  She laughed, lying back in the pillows and staring at the ceiling. Narrowing her eyes and twisting the shadows, watching them writhe. The fear was gone. Swallowed utterly by the knowledge burning in her mind.

  He’d do anything to have me at this moment. Anything I asked. Kill for me. Die for me. Bathe in the blood of hundreds just so he could breathe his last inside me.

  Mia arched her back, slipped one hand between her legs. Pressing at the sweet ache she found there, she closed her eyes and sighed.

  This is the strength that topples kings. Ends empires. Even breaks the sky.

  She ran damp fingers over smiling lips.

  This is power.

  She awoke hours later from a blissful, dreamless sleep. Stretching like a cat, squeezing her thighs together and luxuriating in the memories of the way he’d touched her. She looked at the boy beside her, the face beneath the ink softened by sleep. Telling herself it had only been to keep the dreams away.

  Guessing it was close to mornbells and remembering Hush’s scourging, she decided it’d be best for all concerned if she wasn’t seen sneaking from Tric’s room when the other acolytes woke. So she dressed silently, stole from the bedchamber without waking him. Her shadowcloak about her shoulders, she pawed blindly along the wall until she made it to her room. And unlocking the door with a swift turn of the key, she slipped inside with none outside the wiser. Breathing a small sigh of relief.

  “… the perfect crime…”

  “Mister Kindly!”

  There he was at the foot of her bed; just a sliver of deeper darkness in the gloom. She took a running dive onto the furs, compelled to try and touch him, pick him up and squeeze him. And as he leapt up into her arms, she was shocked to find she did feel some vague, velvet soft touch as her hands passed through him, cold as ice, soft as baby’s breath. He threw himself around her shoulders, slinking through her hair, and the long locks moved as if in some gentle breeze. Tears of relief welled in her eyes.

  “I was worried, you little shit!”

  “… i am sorry…”

  She leaned back in her pillows, and the not-cat hopped up onto her chest, peered into her eyes. He’d been missing all eve without a whisper. Which, despite the relief filling her at her friend’s return, still begged the question …

  “Where have you been?”

  “… o, a short trip to the theater, a quick round of ale and whores, you know…”

  “Hold now, you don’t get to be a smart-arse. You were missing for hours.”

  “… i trust you found some way to entertain yourself while i was gone…?”

  “O, a short trip to the athenaeum, some light reading, you know.”

  The not-cat twisted its head in the direction of Tric’s room.

  “… i think it best if i don’t…”

  She grinned, ran her fingers through him, again feeling that vague chill prickling the hair upon her skin. Questions about her sleeping arrangements could wait.

  “… So,” she said.

  “… so…”

  “Jessamine stole Mouser’s Trinity.”

  “… did she really, i hadn’t noticed…”

  “I warned you about the smart-arsery.”

  “… as if one sun had warned another it was shining too bright…”

  “She hates my guts, Mister Kindly. And now she’s got a weapon we can’t defend against hanging around her neck.”

  “… so tell mouser. the ministry. have the trinity confiscated…”

  “Tattling tales to the Ministry lacks a certain … style, don’t you think?”

  “… you have another plan then…?”

  “I’m sure I could conjure one with the help of enough goldwine.”

  “… you do not have time for petty antics. remember why you came here…”

  “That’s all well and good, but what if Jess decides to avenge her father once and for all? She draws that Trinity and I fall to my knees trying not to puke my g
uts up.”

  “… in case you had not noticed, jessamine hates almost everyone around her. let her think you beaten, and she will grow bored. she loathes carlotta as much as you…”

  “So what, I just lie down and let her stomp all over me?”

  “… have you heard of the scabdogs of liis…?”2

  “Of course.”

  “… it never hurts to be underestimated, mia. initiation should be your goal…”

  Mia chewed her lip. A question roiled behind her teeth. One she’d never needed to ask before. But then, he’d never abandoned her before. In all their years together, the shadowcat had been her confidant. The star she set her course by. It was he who saved her from Scaeva’s men. He who stood beside her when her mother …

  No. Don’t.

  Don’t look.

  But the Trinity had affected him even worse than her. The suns had terrified her, but Mister Kindly had been near mad with panic. What about him made the Everseeing One’s gaze hurt him so? Was it simply because he was a thing of shadow? Or was there more to him than simple darkness?

  “What are you, Mister Kindly?”

  The not-cat tilted his head.

  “… your friend…”

  “But what else? A daemon like the folklore says?”

  A wind-in-the-gravestones chuckle hung in the air. “… daemon, yes. i’ve been meaning to ask you to sign this parchment. in blood and triplicate, if it please you…”

  “I’m in no mood for jests. Why won’t you tell me?”

  “… because i do not know. before i found you, i was just a shape waiting in the shadows…”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “… for one like you…”

  “That simple, eh?”

  “… what is wrong with simple…?”

  “Because nothing ever is.”

  “… you are too young to be so cynical…”

  Mia lurched upward, passing right through Mister Kindly and up off the mattress. The not-cat licked its paw and cleaned its whiskers as if nothing were amiss.

  “Fuck you, then. Keep your secrets. I’ll seek out Lord Cassius when he comes back for initiation. Ask him again about darkin and what it means to be one. And if he decides to play cryptic instead of giving me my answers this time, I might just choke them out of him. I don’t care how nice his damn cheekbones are.”