Page 17 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“Gods be with you,” Anura whispers. She leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Good luck.”

“You too,” I say.

My voice sounds thick, like my mouth is stuffed with cotton. The air in the room ripples as Anura walks toward the door. It opens without a sound, and someone else comes inside. When the door closes, she’s gone.

I’m alone. With the snake.

I try to summon up the same defiance and anger I clung to during the ceremony, but it’s hard to do when the floor is tilting beneath me.

The snake walks toward me slowly, like a predator stalking his prey. His eyes run up and down my white robe as he peels off his cloak and places it gently across the back of a chair. He unbuttons his jacket very slowly, then the shirt beneath. I stare, fascinated despite myself.

He’s wearing a necklace, a thin chain with a tiny metal tube that rests in the hollow of his collarbone. His pale chest is lean and hard, rippled with muscles and strange scars. It’s mostly smooth, unlike Blayne, whose skin is covered with thick hair, but the snake has a thin trail of tight, dark curls that lead down the front of his chest to his⁠—

Oh. Oh, gods, he’s close to me. And I’m staring at the massive bulge in his pants as he unbuckles his belt.

I close my eyes. My cheeks burn, and the floor pitches and sways like a ship. I hear the hiss of fabric against skin and open my eyes.

His pants are on the floor. He’s wearing tight black shorts, and shit, he’s not going to need any help at all, is he? My hands close around my waist, and I realize that I’m trying to hold the robe closed as I stare at what he’s got between his legs.

This is going to hurt. He’s twice as big as Blayne, maybe more, and gods, there’s no way that thing can fit inside of me. Shit⁠—

I take a step back and hit the bed. The room bucks beneath me. The snake grabs my wrist, then my waist, and then his lips press against my neck. Panic races through my body, hot and frantic. He inhales, long and slow, his breath whispering across my skin.

“You’re drugged,” he whispers.

I open my mouth, but I can’t remember how to form words. He steps back and lifts his hands. He slips the robe from my shoulders, then leans close to me, one hand against the small of my back, the other on my shoulder. His breath is hot against my ear.

“Never assume privacy in this room,” he whispers in a voice so low it’s almost inaudible. “Nod if you understand me.”

I nod. He leans back.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” he announces loudly. His eyes are hard and sharp when they meet mine. “Get on the bed.”

I stagger backward and collapse onto the covers. He leans over me, his bare chest dragging across the thin red silk covering my nipples, and the bed spins like a potter’s wheel. His breath rakes the skin on my neck as he brings his lips to my ear.

“The mirror,” he whispers, “is a window. There are witnesses behind it.”

I start to turn toward the mirror. He grabs my chin.

“Don’t look,” he whispers, then leans down again. “The mirror is one. There are probably more.”

The bed rocks as he leans back. I follow the trail of curls down his abdomen as he slips off the bed. There’s the rattling sound of rungs pulled over wood, and the light dims.

He’s closing the curtains around the bed. I shiver again, fear and something else swirling together inside me, creating a strange, pulsing throb between my legs. The mattress dips again. The snake climbs on the bed, closing the curtain behind him.

I know what’s coming. I saw the hard length of him; he’s past the stopping point.

I shut my eyes and spread my legs. He makes a strange sound, a sharp sort of inhale, and the bed starts rocking. I hold my breath as it creaks below me.

Gods, whatever Anura gave me is working. I don’t feel a thing. Not between my legs, not pressed above me⁠—

There’s another strange sound, a low, strangled moan. I open my eyes.

And he isn’t between my legs. No, the snake is kneeling on his hands and knees at my feet. He’s⁠—

I blink, then drag myself up to sitting. And then I stare, my mouth open, as Zarek thrusts his hips and digs his knees into the foot of the bed. Below him, the bed frame rocks and creaks. He moans again, then glances at me and raises an eyebrow.

He’s faking it.