“It can wait,” Eris said, not even recognizing the coarse shout as his own voice anymore.
Dismissing the general, Er’it went to the woman, opting to sit beside her this time. Careful of the dusty, ruined clothes he wore, he tried not to get her filthier than she already was. He’d bathe her if he weren’t uncertain about the welts and if it would cause her yet more pain. Deep lines furrowed her brow and the delicate skin around her eyes even in the dark shadows of sleep.
“What are you to do this to me,” he whispered, working one of the knotted plaits free to feel the texture of the strands. Nose wrinkling, he set it aside, the lock slick and greasy under his fingers. Easy to see the paints that once adorned her features though smudged and tracked with tears. The shredded length of her gown showed flesh with a sandy hue, imbued with a warmth all its own despite the trials she’d endured.
Tongue slipping over his bottom lip, he watched the dark line of her lashes as he traced the ragged edge of a corset. It would only make sense to disrobe her, make her comfortable as they waited for Maruk to return with his herbs and salves.
Decision made, Er’it stood to hunch over her. Hands steady despite the adrenaline racing through him that made his heart slam about the cage of his ribs, he peeled away one layer at a time. Low sounds pulled from between his lips as he unveiled the length of her legs. A guttural moan escaping as he cut away the remains of the thrice damned corset. Breasts high and full, topped with bronzed buds of flesh that tightened under his warm breath.
Adjusting the length of his cock where it strained against his trousers, Er’it leaned closer still. Breathed against her lips before sliding his tongue across all that lushness. Her breathy sound brought forth a growl from him, his kiss going from hesitant to demanding in the space of a single trembling heartbeat. Yet she remained slack in his embrace, her arms refusing to come around him as he wished them to. Her skin was icy, no matter the dream of sunlight that colored it.
Choking out a curse he laid her back into the pillows, yanking a heavy duvet from the foot of the bed to cover her with. Tucking the puffy thing tight to her chin, he made sure it hid away her body before he turned to the ruined garments.
The fireplace opposite would lend her more warmth, and he had just the thing for kindling.
“You’re certain she won’t scar?” Er’it stood well away from the bed, brooding by the fireplace he continued to add fuel to despite the sweat beading his forehead and slipping in icy rivulets down the back of his neck.
“Yes, Majesty. As I said, they’ve used it before,” Maruk said as he stoppered the bottle of viscous green liquid.
Er’it grunted and gripped his biceps harder as Maruk settled the thick bedding back over the girl. Refusing to think of her as a woman despite the way her body called to him had kept the worst of his desires in check. Still hard and aching, at least he wasn’t groping her. Not that it had been easy to watch the old man moving her arms and legs about, touching that sweet skin while Er’it denied himself.
Blood magic was the path he’d chosen, a decision he never regretted until just this moment. Now when what remained of his humanity and decency quivered at the edge of the Aeslomoran Abyss, he wished he’d sought another way. If only to save this poor, beautiful creature from his desires. Far too late now, and she would suffer his needs. At least he still grasped those last tangled threads that kept her safe from him until she recovered.
“And it’s not his magic?”
“No, Majesty. Far older and… not male.”
Er’it grunted again, glancing at the stacks of books Maruk had brought with him from Tor’en. Old, musty tomes with archaic language inscribed across cracking leather. It’d been an age since he’d forced himself to struggle through reading Drethik. People long extinct, only their prophecies and warped incantations remained. Even at his most desperate, Er’it never dared to try those spells, too much a risk and too much at stake. Whatever was in those bindings, it couldn’t be good.
Unfolding from his aggressive posturing, Er’it flipped the topmost book open, lips running askew as the cover tore and crumpled to dusty memories across the vanity. Before he could even destroy the first page with a cautious thumb turning it, he paused. Staring hard at the symbol painted there with gilt somehow defying all age and logic to be brilliant and shining.
He knew that symbol. A tale told to young men to incite their passion. Rowdy stories whores whispered to loosen purse strings. Rumors told by mages, sorceresses, and witches alike when deep in their cups. It wasn’t true though. Never had been true. Yet his gaze slid unerring towards the sleeping girl. Remembering the starlit night in her gaze, the silent murmur of her pleas reaching him across the echoing dungeon. The way he’d found her in that dungeon, the scent of spring and snow still ripe on his tongue.
“Get me Tor’en,” Er’it shouted over his shoulder, slapping his hand across the page to turn to the next.
Chapter 4
Aida
Driftingthrough the murky shadows that coiled around her, holding her fast in their slimy embrace, Aida lacked the will to even voice her distress. Otaso had never left her down here so long, never let that malignant beast dwelling in the cavernous dungeon take out its ill will upon her for so many days.
Pain radiated from the marrow of her bones, her very soul mangled and shredded. Sure that it flayed her skin no matter that it never was, it burned hot and bright behind her eyes in pulses of hideous greens and reds. He should have come long ago, making that awful sound and petting at her hair, telling her she should be a good little fawn from now on. Chastising her for bringing such a punishment down on her head.
She was not always sure what brought such abuse, but this time he accused her of much more than daring to peek out of her window. There was no logic to his insistence that she’d caused such destruction. She had no power. There was no reality where she could have donethat. Yet each time he clambered down the stairs to rail at her again, laying more blame at her door, he said it was all her fault.
As the first cooling caress trailed along her arm, she sobbed. It was done and over. She would grovel at his feet if she must, though she didn’t understand why everything remained so dark. The wicked shadows still clung to her, not a single glimpse of the reddened haze that signaled her freedom from this vengeful limbo. Yet the chill of the syrup thick ointment he used on the unnatural wounds prickled her skin and delved deep into her flesh.
A sound that stole the very whisper of warmth from her lungs met her whine. A low rumble from far away, threatening and yet somehow comforting in that very ferociousness. It wasn’t the rasping grind of Otaso. Aida knew that from the first tremble of it staggering down her spine. More for the way it curled through her hips, plunging low into her belly to erupt in spray of white-hot embers. A writhing pool of warmth that grew fast into a molten core of heat. Blistering and delicious as it licked over her skin and drove the wintry chill from her bones as the thunder grew louder.
Otaso never aroused such a response. On the very heels of that thought was the understanding he was a man of significant power. If he learned some unknown magic, wielded some power over her now, she’d be helpless to stop him. If he could make her feel this with little more than a sound and a touch, perhaps she wouldn’t hate the very idea so much.
A gasp hissed between her teeth as an inferno closed over her throat. Heavy weight stifling her shallow breaths, it did not choke but warned. Kept her still despite the sudden fire lashing at her spine, twining through taut muscle to make it tremble and jump. Heat radiated through every particle of her flesh until Aida wanted nothing more than to scream and writhe. Not in pain, but in something so very different. It swelled in the cradle of her hips and between her thighs, in the place they warned her never to touch, never to even grace with a thought.
Now it burned. A scratching itch begging she soothe it as she bucked under the onslaught. Heady cedar and what she imagined sun-drenched fields smelled like invaded her senses. Raked through her body as it twitched beneath the overwhelming sensation. Skin too tight, aching for a release from the vicious assault, her eyes fluttered open on a shaky sigh.
It was not Otaso.
Eyes the gleaming topaz of a predator looked at her from under the hard shelf of dark eyebrows, making her uncertain how much of his coppery skin was creased from his scowl or just weather worn. There was no mistaking the dark fire flaring to life behind that intense stare. Muddy rose lips spread, more snarl than smile as he showed the white edge of his teeth, the hand at her throat gliding down to splay over her chest.
