Eldritch, p.43
Eldritch, page 43
The black veins across Zevander’s face had darkened, and the tendrils had crawled into the corner of his eye, devouring some of the sclera there. He released my throat, quickly replacing his hand with the blade.
A flicker of silver lashed through the window, not long enough to reach Zevander, but I knew better. I knew that flame would strike true, if the Corvugon intended.
“Raivox, no!” I managed to scream through a hacking cough. “No!”
As if he could sense my urgency, the Corvugon let out a hiss and settled onto whatever perch he’d found outside the window. Watching. Waiting.
Zevander lifted the blade, tipping my chin up, and again, I could hear the low rumble of Raivox growling through the walls.
Tears welled in my eyes as I stared back at a face that I didn’t recognize.
Grief and rage battled in a tightly woven mask that hid the man I knew. Whatever Zevander was staring at, it wasn’t me. No, he looked beyond me, to whatever demons clawed at his thoughts.
“Zevander,” I whispered, and a tear trickled down my cheek. “My protector.”
His pupils shrank and swelled, his muscles trembling with a wild rage as he held me pinned to the wall.
“I’m Maevyth. Not the one who hurt you.” I dared to raise a trembling hand, pressing my palm to his cheek.
A second of clarity flickered in his eyes, and he winced, his hand faltering. The edge of the blade scraped over my skin with the movement, and I sucked in a breath, stilling myself. I swallowed back the emotions rising to my throat. “You’re not there. You’re safe. With me. Come back to me.”
His eyes held a shine, and he clenched his teeth. “You’re lying. You’re a liar. This is another one of your tricks.”
“I’m not a liar. I’m the one who loves you.” Had I not been treading a fine thread of death, it might’ve surprised me how easily those words rolled off my tongue. Hand still shaking, I stroked a thumb across his cheek. “I love you. Come back to me.”
His pupils shrank again, slowly unveiling those familiar eyes. He stared a moment longer, then breached whatever surface had held him under, sucking in a sharp breath.
He stumbled backward. Blood drained from his face as it slackened with disbelief, as if I’d stabbed him. He dropped the dagger to the floor with a clang.
“Zevander, wait.” I reached out for him, but he backed himself farther away, avoiding my grasp.
His face tightened, his expression shattered, torn apart by shock and something that chilled my blood. A look more frightening than the rage I’d seen moments before. I glanced down at the blade lying on the floor between us, and the moment he fell to his knees, I swiped it up before he could reach it.
Instead of fighting me for it, he gripped either side of his skull and let out a sound of agony, so raw and painful, it brought tears to my eyes again. Every muscle in his body shook, breaths ragged, as he doubled over.
Fists hammering against the door razed the silence between us and snapped me to attention. “Maeve! Are you alright in there?” Aleysia called out. “I heard glass break.”
“Rest assured, I’d already be dead by the time you crawled out of bed to investigate, but I’m fine!” Though there wasn’t a shred of humor pulsing through me, I’d kept the response light for her sake. When no other response arrived, I turned back to Zevander, who hadn’t moved from where he remained curled into himself.
I carefully knelt before him, uncertain whether, or not, he’d slipped back into his head. When he didn’t lurch toward me, I reached out a hand as cautiously as if I were approaching a wounded animal. The second my fingertips met his shoulder, he jerked away from me again and scrambled backward.
“Don’t do this.”
His gaze finally met mine, and I didn’t have to crawl beneath his skin to feel the ruin and shame that was swallowing him. Clawing at him with merciless hatred. “I almost killed you.” His voice held a dangerous tremor, a slowly unwinding restraint. “I almost dragged a fucking blade across your throat and ended your life,” he growled. The anger in his eyes shifted back to pain, as if those visuals had sprung to life behind his eyes. “What I saw—”
“Wasn’t real. Your mind was lost to something else.”
“Yes. My mind was lost, and I almost destroyed you because of it.”
“Whatever you were a moment ago, is not who you are in this moment. Right now.”
“It is who I am!” he snapped, raking his hand over his head. “You are getting generous glimpses of what lives inside of me. What I have dedicated my existence to never setting free. Years, I’ve had to learn to rein this in, and I’m losing control of it!”
“And in spite of what I’ve seen, I still love you.”
“If you knew what writhes inside of me. In my head.” He thumped the heel of his hand against his temple.
“I would still love you.”
“Don’t. Don’t say that again.”
“I love you, Zevander. What you’ve done, what you’ve suffered. It doesn’t change how I feel. None of this changes how I feel about you. That’s the beauty of unconditional love. It requires nothing in return.” I reached out to bridge the space between us and ground him, but he backed away, like a single touch would turn him to stone.
“You deserve more.”
“And you don’t?”
His averted gaze and refusal to answer said it all—a silent confession of his own unworthiness.
“Your fits are temporary. Once we find those stones, you’ll be okay.”
“It isn’t just the vivicantem. That was the catalyst. This? This is years of darkness, steeped in unspeakable cruelty, bubbling to the surface like long-drowned corpses. I have smothered these skeletons under various guises. Brother. Assassin to the king. Cursed demon. But inside of me, they fester and rot. And they are violent, desperate to ruin something beautiful.”
“I’ve grown quite used to seeing corpses, and yours don’t frighten me. I still choose you.”
“I give you nothing in return. Nothing but pain and the threat of death. I am suffering in the flesh.”
“And I am no stranger to pain, nor the threat of death. What you give me is so much more than that. I love you. And I don’t need you to feel the same.”
“Saying those words is a lie while I hold a blade to your throat. How easily I could’ve cut you just now. Sliced you open and watched you bleed out.”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have! And what then? How could I live after that? I wouldn’t.” He raked his hands through his hair and slammed the heel of his palm against his temple. “I have stood on the brink of death more times than I can count, have endured all levels of pain, but nothing would bring me more suffering than losing you.” Lips downturned, he shook his head. “I am not your protector. I am your enemy. A danger.”
“You are my first and only love.”
“Enough! I will not defile those words with actions that speak otherwise.”
“Except that you have no blade in your hand now.”
Sorrow flickered in his eyes, even as the tension twisted his face. “I will hurt you, Maevyth. This wrath that lives inside of me isn’t capable of love. It hides inside my skin, waiting for the day when it can destroy. When it can ruin you.”
“The only thing that could destroy me is you pushing me away. Not even the blade slicing across my throat could hurt worse than what you’re doing right now.” I dared to step closer, desperate to touch him. To soothe the pain and agony he clutched in his tight fists.
“I’m not pushing you away. I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what? Who do you see when you slip into these fits?” He didn’t respond, and frustrated, I stepped even closer. “Who is she?”
Still, he refused to say, and I swiped up his hand, pressing his palm against my heart.
“She is not here. I am here. This heart beats for you. I am yours, Zevander.”
“You belong to no one.” Tone bitter and cutting, he spat back the words I’d said to him earlier and attempted to tug his hand free, but I tightened my hold.
“I lied. I belong to you.”
His gaze lowered to my lips, and he ran his thumb across them. “Mine,” he said in an empty tone, like a swish of liquor before spitting it out.
“Yes,” I said assertively. “Whether you claim me, or not, it’s the truth.”
He bent over me, burying his face in my neck, his chest heaving in desperate, uneven breaths as he slid his hand to my waist. “You’re mine.” A turbulent mix of awe and anguish bled through his voice and the possessive curl of his fingertips over my hip punctuated his claim.
“I have always been yours.”
Slow and sure, he dragged his nose over my throat, inhaling me. “A stronger man would tell you to leave,” he whispered, his muscles trembling against the invisible chains that tethered him.
“You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known, and you couldn’t force me away if you tried.”
His lips crushed mine in a ravenous, bruising kiss—wild and starved, breath ragged and urgent as he locked his hand beneath my knee and forced me backward. The wall slammed into my spine, his lips frantic, hands grasping and tearing at my dress. The bodice crumpled to my waist, baring my breasts, and his big palm swallowed one of them as he ground his hips into me. My nipples peaked and hardened with the rough scratch of his calloused hand, and he pinched it just enough to part my lips, twisting my stomach into a frenzy of hunger. Need.
I arched my back against the wall, releasing a quiet moan into his mouth that seemed to excite him the way his arms tautened around me. Sharp teeth grazed my lower lip, his tongue hot and wet as it swept across my own. Hands trembling and impatient, hunting for no other purpose than to feel.
He broke only long enough to send a torrent of flame toward the hearth, igniting the fire that’d been snuffed earlier, then dipped his head, and the moment his lips found my breast, I gripped a handful of his hair, lip curled between my teeth with each maddening suck of my flesh. He hoisted my body up, wrapping my legs around him and stared up at me, the gleam of reverence in his eyes sending a flutter to my stomach.
I stroked my finger over his brow. “I love you,” I whispered.
Hands threading in my hair, he kissed me fervently, desperately, as if the world would split open at any moment and swallow us whole. “You’re the fragile thread anchoring me as this endless night approaches,” he said raggedly against my lips. “My mind’s only tether in a maddening abyss.” With my face held delicately in his strong hands, he stared back at me, brows pulled tight. “I loved you before I even knew your name.”
I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Tell me again.”
“I love you. I fucking love you.” Again, his lips crashed into mine, and as his body held me pressed into the wall, his hand slipped beneath the hem of my dress to the opened cammyck beneath.
Forehead against my shoulder, his body shuddered when his finger brushed over my bare flesh. “Godsteeth. Touching you is a torment in itself.”
His words wound through my head as he gently ran his finger up and down my wet seam.
My body tensed, my nails digging into his back, and he let out a pleasured sound, his muscles flexing around me. I lifted my gloved hand, noticing the streaks of blood over the metallic tips.
Pain. It was the pain that he enjoyed.
If I could get him to focus on something new, something different, maybe he wouldn’t require the pain. I wanted intimacy with him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of inflicting damage and risking sending him spiraling into his head again, after what had happened moments ago.
“Zevander,” I breathed, my thoughts torn by the masterful work of his fingers. “Perhaps…we might try.”
His body froze in place, and when he lifted his head, his brows were furrowed, his expression twisted into something I would’ve expected had I asked him to dive headfirst off the temple’s roof. “Try?”
“Try to…well …” My cheeks flushed, the words dying on my tongue.
He shook his head, allowing me to slide down the wall to my feet. “No. Absolutely not.” He flattened his hands against the wall at either side of me, his gaze fixed toward the floor.
“Look at me.”
Eyes screwed shut, he shook his head. “I won’t do this. Not with you.”
His words shouldn’t have struck like a slap to my face, and I silently chided the insecurity that left me questioning with whom if not me. “If you…I understand, if I’m not—”
His palm gently gripped my chin, guiding my face to his. “There is nothing I want more. But not at your expense.”
“You told me you wouldn’t intentionally hurt me, and I believe you.”
“I would not intentionally hurt you, but outside of abstinence, there is no scenario where you feel no pain.”
I glanced down at the bulge in his leathers and swallowed a gulp. “Perhaps not the whole thing, then.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Perhaps not at all.”
“If that is your wish, I’ll certainly respect it. But know that it isn’t mine.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
I wouldn’t dare tell him my reasons, for fear he’d shut down and abandon intimacy all together, but aside from not wanting to hurt him, I selfishly craved more of him. In my world, sex wasn’t meant to be beautiful and passionate. Its purpose was producing children and nothing more. Marriages were arranged and plotted and miserable. I wanted the forbidden. The passion that came with breaking the rules. I wanted panting breaths, clasped hands, sweat across our skin, and the weight of him against me. Whispers of dark pleasures and the promise of ecstasy. “I want to know what it feels like.” In spite of the flush of warmth in my cheeks, I hardened my expression, staring back at him and didn’t so much as twitch when I said, “You defied the gods to have me. You are my mate, are you not?”
He rubbed his hand down his face and blew a resigned breath. “You are relentless.”
“You forgot stubborn to a fault.”
“And dangerously irresistible.” He drew his thumb down my temple. “For you, I’ll try. But if it becomes too much, you’ll tell me.”
I nodded, and he tipped my chin up, his gaze far sterner than before. “Promise me you’ll tell me to stop.”
“I will.”
Nodding, he glanced to the side, the tightening of his brows urging me to look toward where Raivox still stared in on us, his eyes fixed on Zevander.
I cleared my throat, raising the bodice of my dress up to cover my breasts and crossed the room, carefully stepping around the shards of glass on the floor. At the window, I reached through a gap, braving the cold to pat Raivox on the beak. “It’s okay. You can go back to your roost.” I yanked the heavy drapes closed, the thick velvet closing out the wintry breeze. Peeking through a small gap showed he hadn’t moved, his gaze still fixed on the window.
I sighed and turned around to find Zevander standing beside the fireplace. After another glance over my shoulder, I cautiously tiptoed back to him.
A troubling uncertainty claimed his expression, as he slowly unfastened his trousers, pushing them down his muscled thighs, until they hit the floor.
My pulse thudding in my ear was the only sound as I stared back at his naked body. The sight of his piercings stirred my doubts, but swallowing a gulp, I shoved my dress to the floor, kicked it away, and removed the cammyck beneath.
His eyes gleamed with fascination as they drank me in, his chest rising and falling with his hastening breaths. He closed the space between us, hand cuffing his flesh at the same time he bent over me, pressing his lips to mine. His kiss was gentle that time, lazy and soft as he swept his tongue across my lips. Palms gripped my bottom, lifting me up into the air again, his mouth never breaking the seal over mine. For a moment, he held me there, kissing me. “I need to prepare you for this, Lunamiszka,” he said between kisses. “You need to be wet.”
I glanced over at the bed and back. “Should I be lying down?”
“I will not take you on your tormentor’s bed.”
Nodding, I nibbled on my lower lip, my heart drumming frantically.
“You’re certain of this?”
“What is it that troubles you?”
“Aside from the inevitable pain? That I’ll lose myself.” He winced as though he’d already imagined such a thing. “That I’ll lose track of your voice and fail to stop if you command it.”
Command. The word struck me odd and out of balance, like a single wave commanding the tides. A spark commanding flame. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep the dagger within reach.”
The glint of intrigue that lit his eyes turned my stomach, but when he lowered me to my feet, I scampered back to where I’d dropped it and laid it on the floor beside the fireplace.
He stepped closer, the size of him more apparent to me as I trailed my gaze up his chiseled abdomen to his broad shoulders that I couldn’t see past. Palm to my back, he pressed me tight against his body and urged me onto the floor, his arm cradling me on the way down to the blanket still crumpled there. A quivering tension hummed through me as I lay staring up at him and his handsome, ruined face.
“My every instinct is wrapped around you, Lunamiszka.” His fingertips ghosted across my cheek. “Should another man so much as breathe across your skin, I’ll drag him screaming into oblivion.”
Perhaps all men spoke those words before intimacy, but I knew all too well—his weren’t hollow promises. “I don’t want another. I want you.”
He stroked a hand down my temple, his eyes gentle but concerned. Knuckles skimming across flesh, he parted my thighs, his eyes always watching me. A long, maddening stroke of his finger, and he eased it into me, slow and searching.
My lips parted on a breathy moan, and he kissed the edge of my jaw as he plunged his finger in and out of me.
Another finger joined the first, my arousal slickening his every stroke. He inserted a third, each new violation swelling inside of me, forcing past my stubborn flesh.
I clutched at his back as he stretched my insides in a way I’d never attempted myself. In and out, his fingers plundered, until he removed them and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “By the gods, you better tell me if it’s too much.”
