Eldritch, p.17
Eldritch, page 17
“Te’igniret abysira.”
“Get inside, Zevander. Now!”
The scattering of eyes in the field blinked in unison, as if belonging to a single creature, and I yanked harder on his arm.
“Zevander!”
He closed his eyes, head lopping forward, but he remained standing.
“Damn it, Zevander! Wake up!”
His muscles contracted sharply. His eyelids shot open. When he looked at me, the black had given way for the familiar color I recognized. “Maevyth?”
A breath of relief escaped me, but only briefly, because when I turned, dozens of pale, white creatures barreled across the yard toward us on their long spider legs.
“Inside. Now!”
He gave one quick glance toward those terrifying beasts, then banded his arm around me and dragged me into the cabin, slamming the door behind us. “What in seven hells?” He lifted the rabbit, and in the hearth’s light, I spied a raw patch of glistening flesh where it’d been bitten.
My eyes instantly darted to the mess on Zevander’s face. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know. I was out hunting earlier. There was …” His brow furrowed as if he struggled to remember. “A deer. A deer in the woods. I tracked him for a bit. Then I somehow lost sight in the fog and came upon this enormous, rotted tree. It gave me such a strange sense.”
“What kind of sense?”
The crease in his brow deepened. “Dread.” He stared off for a moment, before a twitch in his arm seemed to break his thoughts. Lifting the rabbit again, he twisted it around, then laid it down on the floor, where it kicked and panted.
“This is happening too frequently. These moments of wakeful dreaming…I fear they’re getting worse.” I snatched a rag from the table and dipped it into the basin, squeezing away the excess water, and when I turned around, he was right there, caging me between the table and his massive body.
Eyes on mine, he reached for the cloth in my hands and wiped away the blood from his face. As I turned to walk away, he gripped my arm. “It’s your distance that’s driving me mad.” Eyes clenched, he shook his head and pressed my hand to his chest. “I didn’t mean for that to sound like blame.” He dragged my palm from his chest to his abdomen, his muscles twitching beneath my skin. “I do not welcome anyone’s touch, but I’ve craved yours with the kind of voracity that makes me question my morals.”
“Zevander, it’s for your benefit that I keep my distance. The more intimate we are, the harder it’ll be to—” I clamped my lips over the words I refused to say.
“To what? Say it.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I shook my head, blinking them away. I refused to slip into my selfish emotions. If we failed to find the vivicantem, he would be forced to return to Aethyria—regardless of his promise. Creating distance would make that easier. “Every day that you deny yourself vivicantem, I fear that something terrible will happen to you. I refuse to be the reason you stay. I refuse to watch you decline here.”
“And I refuse to return without you.” He stepped closer, pressing himself against my body. “Enough of this.”
My emotions snapped free. “Enough of your promises that you know damn well you can’t keep!” I shoved at his chest, failing to move him, his body a steel wall of tenacity. “Your episodes are only going to get worse and if there is no vivicantem at Moros’s? You won’t have a choice. You’ll have to return.”
“Where did the stones come from?”
“Moros said he mined them from the Lyverian Mountains.”
“Then we’ll head to the Lyverian Mountains. Either way, I’m not leaving you.” Jaw clenched, he looked away. “Keep your distance, if that’s what you choose, but don’t do it for me.”
Too many thoughts clashed inside my head, a clamor that beat against my skull like a pack of rabid dogs had been set loose—pawing, growling, biting. The air around me shifted, crackling and vibrating. The delicate beat between thunder and lightning. I moved on instinct, surging up to my toes and wrapping my arms around his neck. A desperate need took over me, and I seized his mouth.
Swift hands lifted me up onto the table, and his body urged me onto my back. Fingers sank into my hair, his breaths forced, hands shaking, clutching me like he thought I might vanish any moment. With our mouths fused, he kissed me harder, unwilling to part for a single breath.
I gasped into his mouth, and still, he refused to release me.
His lips consumed me, frantic and starved. “I tried to stay away from you,” he rasped, before moving to my cheek, my chin, my throat, as if he couldn’t decide where to begin, or how to stop himself. “I tried to respect your wishes.” He dragged his mouth over my collarbone and bit down at the crook of my neck.
I arched against him on a moan and firm hands pressed into the curve of my back, pulling me in tighter.
“I can’t. I need this. Your hands on me.” Tugging the collar of my tunic just enough to expose my shoulder, he kissed along the length of it. “The pain of wanting you is like fucking blades in my chest.” His groin pressed into my thighs, the thick bulge straining against his leathers proving his words to be true. He straightened and tore away his tunic, leaving his muscled chest bare. Yanking my wrists, he reeled me closer, against his stomach, which flexed the moment I touched him.
I dragged my hands to his back and kissed his chest. “I wanted you, too,” I whispered against his skin. As my tongue traced his nipple, he tipped his head back and released a deep, guttural sound that reminded me of an animal.
Taking hold of his arm, I urged his hand up, under the hem of my tunic to my breast, needing his touch as much as he needed mine. A calloused finger caressed my nipple and his lips clamped onto my throat. Every night that we’d danced around each other in avoidance had felt like punishment. Fingers curled into his sides, I pulled him into me, as I lay back against the table, and he followed me down, bracing his elbows at either side of my head.
After pausing for only a moment, kissing the spot right behind my ear, he wrenched my trousers down to my thighs, his gaze as reverent as a devout man falling to his knees before an altar. His eyes darkened with whatever thoughts had him licking his lips, and leaning over me once more, he trailed his tongue down my body to the dip between my breasts.
My lips parted on an eager breath, and when he kissed my stomach, I gripped his hair with a trembling exhale.
He traced his nose over my bare flesh, breathing deeply and his fingers curled into my sides. “I’m starving for you,” he said in a ragged voice, then dragged a chair close and fell into the seat. “But I’m going to take my time and savor it. Every drop of you.” Strong hands gripped the back of my knees, as he yanked me closer to the edge of the table, his gaze both hungry and reverent. The moment he buried his face between my thighs, and lazily dragged his tongue over my sensitive flesh, I arched my back, and my mouth gaped for a tortured moan. “Cursed heavens, there is nothing more divine than that sound,” he said, and buried his tongue deeper, my body restless and squirming, thighs trembling, clinging to him like wet silk.
Fingers threading through his hair, I rested my feet against his muscled thighs, bracing myself for the warm swells of pleasure moving through me.
He groaned and sucked at my flesh with the gratitude of a famished man splitting the soft and swollen seam of a ripe peach. As if he’d waited too long for this moment. Not hurried or rushed, but savoring the taste as he’d promised. Tongue, lips and breath, he left no part of me untouched as he stitched himself into my skin.
Quiet moans interrupted each gasp of breath that escaped me. A flush of heat burned beneath my skin, my body desperate, frantic with need. Unraveling with every masterful sweep of his tongue.
Gods, please don’t stop.
I wanted him to feast on me until I was raw and aching.
His fingers dug into my thighs as he held me apart and I turned my head, noticing the rabbit still lay twitching on the floor.
An unsettling dread swept through me, as the poor creature stared back with those black, bottomless eyes.
Then it stilled.
A gut-wrenching scream ripped through the cabin, and I snapped my gaze toward Aleysia’s room. With only a glance at Zevander, I scrambled off the table, yanked up my trousers, and raced toward the door. Before I could reach the key hidden atop the frame, Zevander grabbed my arm.
“I should go first. She might not be the same sister you remember.”
I shook my arm free of his grasp. “I understand your concern, but she’s never seen you in her life. And you don’t exactly look all that friendly. If she’s awake, I want her to see me first.”
Lips pressed to a hard line, he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. “Fine. I’m going to stay right here just in case.”
Another scream bled through the door and I twisted around on tiptoes, frantically patting the top of the frame for the key.
Zevander snatched it first, handing it off to me, his brows tight with concern.
Scream after horrific scream rattled my muscles, as I slipped the key into the lock with shaky hands and threw the door open.
Inside, my sister was sitting up in bed. She didn’t appear distressed, as she slowly trailed her gaze over the room, her wrists still secured at each side of her.
When her attention finally landed on me, her lips drew into an uncertain smile. “Maevyth?”
Tears filled my eyes, blurring her form. “Aleysia.”
The smile faded as she seemed to study me. “Your eyes…they’re silver.” Her gaze lifted and focused on a spot just behind me—Zevander, I presumed—and she jerked against her binds as if startled.
“He’s a friend,” I assured, glancing back at him. Thankfully he’d washed the blood off his face earlier, or I suspected her heart would’ve likely faltered at the sight of him.
Aleysia’s eyes widened, and she kicked herself back toward the headboard, leaning as if searching past me. “Is she here, too? The Crone Witch?”
Her reaction stirred my suspicions that Elowen may have been ill-intended when she’d thrown her into that pantry. “No. She’s not here.” Heart pounding, I crossed the room with slow and careful steps, despite every muscle urging me to run to her. To wrap my arms around her and squeeze until her bones popped. To cut loose the squeal of delight caught in my throat, because I’d never been so happy in my life to see those bright blue eyes again. But the surge of elation bubbling inside of me, yearning to be set free, remained tempered by my caution.
Though, at a glance, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with her. In fact, she seemed quite calm, given the circumstances.
She tugged at her binds, her brows pinched to a frown as she stared down on them. “What is this?”
“A precaution.” I immediately went to work on the knot in her bind, while Zevander worked on the other.
Wariness shadowed her eyes as she watched him the whole time. Once the binds were loose, I settled on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay? Are you feeling well?”
Her brows knitted together. “You’re asking if I’m one of those things?” A quiver of fear clung to her voice.
If she was, I doubted she’d have had the mental wherewithal to tell me. “I’m asking if you’re okay, and if you need anything.”
“Food. I’m starving.”
I nodded, more tears welling in my eyes as the initial shock withered and reality sank into me. “You’re okay, then.” Urgency took over me, and I threw my arms around her, trembling as my emotions swallowed me. At first, she didn’t hug me, but then I felt her arms wrap around me.
“Where did you go?” she whispered.
The question made me smile. “You wouldn’t believe me, if I told you.” I pulled away and held her hand in mine. “We’ll catch up, but first, let me get you something to eat.”
“Do we happen to have any meat?”
While the world had certainly changed since I last saw my sister, the question still struck me as odd, given that Aleysia had never had a strong affinity for meat.
I peered past Zevander, who’d returned to the doorway, toward where the rabbit lay in the other room. “It so happens we do.” Desperate to gather my thoughts, I pushed up from the bed, my heart ready to pound right through my chest. “I’ll be right back.” Allowing a smile, I followed Zevander out of the room, but the moment I’d shut her inside, my smile faded.
Zevander tipped his head. “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
Nodding, I let out a long exhale and crossed to the small kitchen, grabbing one of the jars of carrots I’d been snacking from earlier.
An icy branching cold moved through my chest, like a tight fist clamping over my lungs. It tingled over my face and down my arms. My balance faltered, and the shattering of glass alerted me to the jar I’d dropped.
“Maevyth?”
Zevander’s voice was a distant sound to the hiss and crackling in my ears. Before I recognized what was happening, arms wrapped around me, pressing me close, as if he knew precisely what I needed right then.
His palm cupped the back of my neck, the other held me to him. “Breathe,” he commanded in a hushed voice.
Eyes closed, I nodded and inhaled deeply through my nose, my pulse throbbing in my ears. Seconds ticked off before it gradually faded.
He stepped back and tipped his head, guiding my eyes to his. “Are you all right?”
I nodded again, breathing through the lingering tremors. “How did you know?”
“Your face turned ghostly white. You looked like you were on the verge of collapsing.”
“But you …. You knew to grip the back of my neck.”
Zevander shrugged. “It just felt like a natural reaction.”
“I’ve not had one of my fits in years. Probably all the fuss over Aleysia and what this will mean.”
“One worry at a time.” He stroked a hand down my hair and kissed my forehead. “I’ll take care of the rabbit.” As he strode toward the animal, I couldn’t help but voice my thoughts.
“Zevander, do you think it was any coincidence that the moment that rabbit died, she awakened?”
“Had you asked me a week ago, I might’ve said it was a stretch. Now? I don’t know.” He swiped up the animal and grabbed one of the squares of burlap he’d brought in from the stable a few days ago, when he’d scrounged a squirrel from the tree line. He sat in the chair beside the table with his back to me, likely as a courtesy, since I’d told him I couldn’t watch.
I cleaned up the broken glass, and as I filled a pot with water, carrots and seasonings, I tried my best to ignore the tearing and squelching. By the time I put the pot on the flame, he’d finished skinning the poor creature, and he slipped it in with the carrots and seasoning.
While the stew simmered, I snuck back into Aleysia’s room, to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to me. “I can hear them out there. Those things.” Her body shuddered, and I tiptoed around the bed, taking a seat next to her. “Terrifying creatures.” She rocked back and forth where she sat, a hollow dread blooming in her eyes as she released a quiet whimper. “Have you seen what they can do?”
“Yes. Uncle Felix tried to attack me. He was one of them.”
She snapped her head toward me. “Uncle Felix?” Movement caught my eye, and I looked down to see her tapping each of her fingers to her thumbs. Over and over again, as if it were some nervous gesture she’d newly acquired. “How did you get away?”
“I have so much to tell you. And I’m not sure right now is the time. But I will, I promise. I’ll tell you everything.”
“When you went through that archway, and you didn’t come back…I thought …” Her eyes held a high shine, and she tipped her head back. “I knew at that moment that I was completely alone in the world. I felt it somewhere inside of me. This dark emptiness that crawled into my chest.” She stared off, as if lost in a trance. “If not for Moros, I doubt I’d have made it out of those woods alive.”
“Moros helped you out of the woods.” My flat tone mirrored my refusal to believe her words. The last time I’d seen Moros, he’d been swallowed by the same creature that’d flayed Uncle Riftyn and had morphed into a grotesque version of himself. Surely, she must’ve been delusional that night. It was possible. She’d suffered trauma, had lost her pregnancy, and had been banished to the terrifying woods all in one sitting. But curiosity insisted I continued questioning her. “And you felt safe with him?”
“Yes. He told me not to worry. That he would find you and bring you back to me.” She turned to me, eyes brimming with a strange wonderment. “And now you’re here.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell, really. After he escorted me from the woods, the crowd had already dispersed. There was such a strange and blissful silence. I almost wondered if I was dead. If Moros and I were both dead, and our spirits were walking side by side.” She stared off as if she was reliving that night, and my own visual of it slithered through my mind like a thick, oily sludge. “The moment we arrived on Agatha’s doorstep, I knew that wasn’t true, when she refused to let me inside. The afterlife couldn’t be so cruel. Torment and rejection are unique to the living, after all.” She sighed. “Anyway, it was Moros who took me in. Who gave me shelter when those creatures crawled out of the woods.”
I wanted to believe her words, to imagine that everything I’d seen that night had been nothing more than an illusion, but I couldn’t. I refused, because even if Moros hadn’t changed into a macabre monster in front of my eyes, he was still a bad man. A bad man who sewed women’s legs together and had threatened to turn me into one of his grotesque mermaids. “That can’t be. Aleysia, I saw the wrathavor consume Moros. He became Moros.”
“I too saw many things that night. I saw Uncle Riftyn on the edge of the woods calling my name. Moros told me it wasn’t real. That it was all in my head. Those nasty bites were some kind of wretched venom, you know. I hallucinated him, was all. I know that now.”
I didn’t bother to explain the nightmarish manner in which I’d seen Uncle Riftyn die. “When we found you, you were lying on the floor of the pantry. As if Elowen had put you there.”
