They kissed in a frenzy, and that tumultuous feeling started to grow within her again, as if something was coming for them both, something too big and too strong, and she felt frightened and also giddy for it, breathless, open.
He tore her hands off him, muttering something, about it being too much, or wanting to last, or… she didn’t know.
She kissed him harder, wrapping her thighs around him, sealing their bodies together. She rocked against him, coaxing the frenzied feeling, and it stole through her, one inch at a time, and she was consumed.
His mouth was at her eyebrow. He was kissing her, or maybe he was saying something, but she couldn’t understand him, and his hips moved against her, a shallow thrust.
Which she met, sliding the slippery center of herself against him, and then it just… happened.
She was invaded. He was inside her, and he was enormous and hard and so cold, and her mouth opened in a silent scream even as she pressed her thighs tighter around him, latching on.
“Gods,” he said, his voice mangled.
They were kissing again.
He was too much. She felt stretched and pierced. It was almost uncomfortable, but no—no it was sweet, it was a perfect splintering. She began to feel as if the sensation within her, the frenzy, was hardening into a tightly packed prism, and with every thrust, she was separating into all the colors of the rainbow.
She clung to him, moving against him with abandon, her fingers digging into his skin, her breath coming in harsh gasps.
He swallowed each of her breaths, his mouth over hers. One of his hands was squeezing one of her breasts in time to the rhythm that they were moving together, and sensation of her sensitive tip stretching and pressing into his palm was sublime. One of his hands was at her hip, trying to hold her in place and pin her there so that he could move against her, but she was too intent on moving too, and they were heading somewhere, towards something—
Abruptly, he stiffened.
She felt him twitching in her, she felt the release of his cold seed filling her body.
She gasped at it.
He was swearing. He was apologizing.
She was touching his face, and she was still a quivering ache, and she was trying to find words.
He pulled out of her and he was on his knees. He put his mouth between her legs.
She couldn’t help it. She cried out. What was he doing?
Then she felt his tongue, and she was lost. She concentrated on not making too much noise. That was all she could do.
He licked her and he sucked at her. He bit the inside of her thigh and he went back and forth, lapping at her blood and making tortuously slow circles around the most sensitive part of her body, and she was that prism again, hard and separating, each color slowly being pressed out through her limbs as he took her on this journey they were on together, wherever it was heading.
It went on and on, the pleasure getting more and more intense, more than she had even thought possible, until suddenly it was concentrated to pure bliss and the colors of the prism glowed blindingly bright.
And then the prism shattered.
And then the pieces shattered again.
And her body spasmed and crested and spasmed again.
She was boneless.
She slithered backward, her head going into the tub behind them.
He kissed her between her thighs. He licked at the place on her thigh where he’d been sucking her blood.
She should probably heal that, she thought idly. Instead, she half sat up and pulled his face up to hers to kiss him.
But somehow, it didn’t work, and they tumbled backwards into the tub, landing awkwardly.
She laughed.
He laughed.
They scooted around until they were sitting next to each other in the tub, resting their heads on the lip.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“What?” She was genuinely confused.
He leaned over and kissed her. “It’s been too long since I’ve been in a woman’s silk purse—”
She was giggling. “What did you just call—”
“Yours is divine,” he said.
The giggles melted away. Maybe she liked it. She kissed his nose.
“I promise to last longer next time,” he said.
She toyed with the edges of his shaggy hair. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
He gave her a smile. It looked almost bashful.
Oh, she liked him like this. He was different, this Eithan she’d uncovered. Was he always here, underneath his clothes? Anyway, maybe she felt bashful too. She’d never felt quite so uncovered either. She smoothed her hand over his shoulder. “Is that… do people do that?”
Now, it was his turn to look confused. “Do what?”
“What you did with your mouth.” She was blushing. She could feel it. “That’s… something that’s done?”
He suddenly seemed serious. “Nicce, you told me you weren’t a virgin, not even when I met you—”
“I’m not,” she said. “I wasn’t. If that’s a standard thing that men are supposed to do to women, then you should really have a talk with—wait.” She sat up straighter, smiling hugely. “Can women do it to men? Can I do it to you?” She was in raptures at the prospect.
He laughed. “Not now. I’m… that would not be remotely possible.”
She settled back down, resting her cheek against the lip of the tub.
“But yes,” he whispered. “At some point in the future, if you want…” He traced the outline of her face with his forefinger. “Truthfully, I don’t have a lot of experience with it myself. I never did it when I was human.”
“You seem skilled,” she decided.
“Should we fill the bath?” He turned to the spigots.
“Mmm, good idea.” She relaxed further, peering up at the ceiling. Then she seemed to register what he’d said. “While you were human? So, that means…” She sat up.
He was concentrating on the spigots.
“You said that you were never with her,” said Nicce.
“I never fucked her,” he said, his voice offhand but harsh. “There were… other things she made me do.”
Nicce felt soiled all of the sudden. And angry. She wanted to march down and find the goddess of nightmares and cut her into a million pieces.
Eithan turned to her. “But I didn’t think about it with you. I didn’t think about it until now. It’s all right. We don’t have to dwell on it.”
“She has no right to do the things that she does.” Nicce’s voice was hard. Water was filling up the bottom of the tub.
Eithan leaned back and cupped her cheek with one of his hands. “The others have had it far worse than me. I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
He nodded.
“It’s all right to not be fine, you know?”
He kissed her forehead. “We’re neither of us coming from some past where we were coddled and snuggled, are we?”
“I was never…” But she had been used. And treated like a weapon, not a girl. And asked to use her body in the service of violence. “I’m fine,” she said forcefully.
“Well, there you go,” he said, drawing back and looking into her eyes. “We’re both fine.”
She felt some urge to argue with him, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to argue about, so… she let it go. She splashed her fingers through the water in the tub, which was higher now. It was warm and flowing and relaxing. She lay back against the lip of the tub again, closing her eyes.
His mouth was wet and cool on her neck, her jaw.
She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close.
“I…” He didn’t finish.
She waited. There was nothing except the sound of the water filling the tub. She let a wet finger work lazily up his spine. “What?”
“I just… I…” He raised his head again and searched her gaze with his own.
She gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s all right, Eithan.”
&nbs
p; “You’re beautiful, and I’ve never felt the kind of desire I feel for… I’m devoted to you, you know that?”
Her breath hitched.
“I love you,” he murmured.
She kissed him. She said it into his lips, molding her body against his. “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Absalom was bleeding. He lay still at the corner of Ciaska’s bed and he tried to ignore the bleeding. It wasn’t bad. It was only a few scratches, nothing too deep. He would be fine. It was nothing.
He had his eyes almost closed but barely open, just slits, so that he could look through his lashes and watch the goddess.
He didn’t know how many times he’d played this game in her bed, watching her, waiting. Telling himself that she’d be asleep soon, and then he could leave the room, go away, clean himself, try to leave it behind him and let it swirl down the drain.
He didn’t want to move prematurely. Then she might stir and ask him where he was going. Then she might decide she wasn’t tired at all and she wanted another bout of activity. No, he had to stay still.
This game was something he’d never discussed with the other men, but he could tell that they were playing it as well.
Jonas was at the top of the bed, lying on his side, spooning Ciaska, but Absalom had noted how Jonas had gotten his arm out from beneath the goddess’s neck when they were arranging themselves. Jonas was waiting too, and even though he was still, Absalom knew Jonas’s breath wasn’t even enough for him to be asleep.
Septimus lay on the other side of the goddess, facing her.
None of them were wearing any clothes.
It was too soon to move. Ciaska looked like she was asleep, but it was best to wait until a bit of time had passed, to be sure that she wouldn’t wake when he got up.
Except Septimus was moving.
Absalom opened his eyes wider to watch the other man carefully climbing out of the bed. He held his breath, waiting.
Ciaska slept on.
Septimus tiptoed over to find his breeches. He picked them up and left the room.
Absalom locked eyes with Jonas.
Jonas gave him a little nod.
Absalom got up too, eyes on Ciaska the entire time.
At one point, she twitched, and he froze.
But she didn’t wake.
In the hallway, he found Septimus, lacing his breeches. Septimus glanced at him, skittered his gaze over his bare skin and then away.
Absalom yanked on his own pants.
Jonas was out in a moment. He was already wearing his breeches. He moved through them without looking at either of them.
Absalom felt hotly embarrassed. He thought maybe that was the worst of it, how it made him feel lesser in the eyes of the other men. He knew they were all as helpless in it as the others, but somehow…
“Wine,” said Septimus in a lilting voice.
“Gods, yes,” said Absalom. Together, he and Septimus caught up to Jonas. “You?” he said to the bigger man. “Wine?”
Jonas nodded curtly.
They sat at a table in the throne room, which was currently empty. All the lights had fallen from the air and were scattered between the tables and chairs, which meant they were lit from beneath, and the hollows of their faces seemed more pronounced. They each had their own bottle of wine.
“It was worth it if Lian’s free,” said Jonas.
“I thought we were going to kill her,” said Septimus, who had made a fist and seemed very intrigued by his own knuckles. “Can’t we go back and do that now? If I cut her head off and throw it out the window, how does she heal that?”
“There aren’t any windows,” said Jonas.
“I think about cutting her.” Septimus’s voice had taken on a dreamlike quality. “Cutting off pieces of her while she screams. Using a knife on her cunt.”
“Septimus, don’t.” Absalom’s stomach lurched.
“You want her to suffer too,” said Septimus darkly.
“I… not like that,” said Absalom.
Septimus drank wine, rolling his eyes.
“Should we go and look for Eithan?” said Absalom. “Do you think we could get the gate to the dungeons open?”
“It’s barred with a crystal, so not likely,” said Jonas. “But I suppose we should see if he’s still alive.”
“Oh, gods take Eithan,” said Septimus, leaning back in his chair. “He acts as though he carries such a burden, but it’s never him in her chambers, is it?”
“He’s probably being munched on by nightmares,” said Jonas. “You could pretend to have some human decency.”
Septimus slammed his wine bottle on the table. “Gods take Eithan, let’s do something on our own.”
“Absalom, you’re bleeding,” said Jonas.
Absalom touched it. “It’s nothing.” He rubbed his thumb against his fingers, feeling the slipperiness of his own blood. “What would we do, Septimus?”
“Maybe we could just go,” said Septimus. “You got past the guards before. Let’s run.”
“Not without Eithan,” said Jonas.
“Fine, you go looking for Eithan in the dungeons,” said Septimus. “I’m going to the fortress. I’ll take Lian and Philo and we’ll go for the coast.”
“We go together or not at all,” said Absalom.
“She’s sleeping, and she’s distraught,” said Septimus. “When she wakes up, she’ll be done grieving for a son she never gave two figs for, and she’ll be asking us questions about how we were involved in that plot to hurt her. If there’s a time to act, it’s now.”
Absalom didn’t say anything, because he had to admit that Septimus was talking sense. He rubbed his forehead. “All right, well, we can’t rescue Eithan, but we should see if he’s alive, as Jonas said. We can tell him we’re leaving. He’ll… he’ll have to fend for himself. He’s not Lian’s father, so, if he’s not with us…”
It was quiet.
“I’ll go,” said Jonas, getting up from the table. “I’ll look in the dungeons.”
“We’ll need jewels in case we run into the guards,” said Absalom. “It’s the easiest way to subdue them. We don’t have time for long sword battles. I used the two I had, but I stashed another in Nicce’s room once. I didn’t even tell her about it. I wanted to spread them out in case some of them were found. I can go there and get it. I don’t know what Eithan did with the others.”
“Fine,” said Septimus. “I’ll go to our rooms and find us tunics.”
Ciaska had destroyed the ones they were wearing before.
“Meet in the entry hall?” said Jonas.
“Yes,” said Absalom. He took another drink of wine before he took off for Nicce’s room. He felt guilty about leaving her behind as well. Neither she nor Eithan deserved this, but it had been a fool’s plan he’d set them all on. Killing Ciaska, it couldn’t be done.
And to think, this had been his doing. He’d insisted they try. He’d demanded Eithan join them.
He was stunned when he got to Nicce’s room and didn’t find it empty.
He stood in the doorway, gaping at the two of them, who were lying in the bed together. They might have been sleeping when he’d come in, but now they were both sitting straight up.
Nicce had the covers pulled up over her body. Her shoulders were bare. “You didn’t lock the door.”
“I thought I did,” said Eithan.
Absalom was speechless. Rage was rising in him, hot and red and overwhelming. “You two are… here? Doing this?”
“I was going to find you in the morning,” said Eithan. “Can I still do that? We can talk then?”
“No, we are leaving, Eithan.” Absalom spit the words out. “We thought you were dead. We thought you’d been eaten in that dungeon—”
“Well, it was touch and go for a while there, actually,” said Eithan.
“But you both look fine to me,” said Absalom.
“Can you leave the room for a moment and let us get dressed if we’re go
ing to keep talking?”
“I’ve seen everyone else’s cock tonight. I don’t see why you should get a pass.”
Eithan forcefully shoved aside the covers and got out of bed.
Absalom looked away. He waited while Eithan tugged on his breeches.
Nicce beckoned for Eithan to toss her things to her.
Absalom stalked out of the room.
Moments later, Eithan opened the door to him. He was dressed. So was Nicce. Eithan put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”
“We…” Absalom shoved his hand off and came inside. He shut the door behind him. “You got out of the dungeon?”
“It wasn’t exactly easy,” said Eithan.
“We did sort of nearly die,” said Nicce. “Which is why I guess we were sort of…” She looked at Eithan. “Drawn to each other?”
“Spare me,” said Absalom, grimacing. “So, you fought nightmares and got horny and meanwhile, we’ve been convincing Ciaska that Lian is dead.”
Eithan’s eyes widened. “That’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“I don’t know,” said Absalom. “I thought of it by asking myself what you would do.”
“How did you manage it?” Eithan said.
Absalom explained.
Eithan listened, making little interjections of praise now and again. “Brilliant, like I said.” He grinned at Absalom. “You know, I’ve been an ass.”
Absalom raised his eyebrows.
“You said a thing to me once, that I was treating you all like children, and maybe you were right. If we’d all been working together on this instead of my acting as if I needed to be your great white hope, maybe we wouldn’t have been trapped like this for a hundred years.”
Absalom blinked. “If this is what bedding a woman does to you, I wish you would have done it a long time ago.”
Eithan laughed.
Nicce ducked her head, looking embarrassed.
Absalom folded his arms over his chest. “So, what’s your plan? What are you going to do now? Do you want to come with us?”
“Right, you said you were leaving,” said Eithan.
“Why are you bleeding?” said Nicce in a quiet voice. “Where is your shirt, Absalom?”
Eithan turned to her. “I imagine Ciaska wanted consolation on the death of her son.”
The Dead and the Dusk (The Nightmare Court Book 2) Page 22