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That… proved an issue.
The dead obeyed.
The living warmed.
I could not have both.
Such a frail, unpredictable thing this… mortality. Oh, how I envied man for his ability to die. Come to think, hadn’t I been created to mirror mankind? Was made of flesh and flaw?
It was only right that Ada now sated the desires of my flesh and suffered the crimes of my flaw—utter possessiveness.
My little mortal had come to me.
And I would keep her.
For eternity.
If it came at the cost of her sanity, then so be it. Nothing the God of Whispers couldn’t ease in exchange for me to keep his harem of corpses smelling fresh.
“She shows no fear toward the dead.” Not like Njala had, ever so displeased with the Pale Court, no matter how I’d shaped it to her wishes. “No disgust.”
“It’s the world ye created with yer absence.” Orlaigh glanced back at where I tugged a fur higher over my little one. “She’s a bonnie lass. Has her wits about her for the most part. And we both ken she’ll run from ye, and I dinnae blame her.”
And she might succeed.
Ada had marked the bone from chamber to throne room, had taken detailed assessments of the gates, and had quickly discovered the miserable state of my corpses. Over the span of eternity, opportunities for escape would abound.
The thought alone filled my veins with anguish that clenched my teeth. It coursed through me so rapidly, already her neck offered itself to break. Until she inhaled and a handful of breasts pressed against me, their warmth coercing me into a state of… calmness.
No, I very much wanted her alive.
But how to keep her from running?
The wordpromiseechoed, but I quickly banished it from my mind. A mind so stuffed with memories of pacts, vows, and pledges sworn by mortals—most broken within the first decade. What good would it do to offer Ada certain freedoms for her promise to remain by my side, ever so faithful?
Nothing.
Oh yes, my little mortal would pledge her loyalty and love, swear an oath from the sweetest of lips, and then she would break it. She would run from me. Abandon me to eternity, my wicked, wayward mortal.
The past had taught me no different.
“I could keep age from her flesh and break her legs in three places.” An acceptable compromise, buying me ample time to chase her down should she ever escape my kingdom.
Orlaigh shook her head and laid out the dress I’d made for my woman, braided from the softest of hairs. “If ye want the lass to hate ye even more, breaking her other bones is the way to go about it.”
Whatever else would I want?
Love?
My breathing hitched at the thought and panic clawed my chest when it no longer expanded with Ada’s inhale, robbing me of her warmth. Of all the things existence had cursed me with, my ability to love was the worst torture—second only to my inability to die.
No, the vicious sentiment of mankind was neither needed nor desired, for I would claim all parts of her form, again and again, until we were so consumed with each other that love paled in comparison.
Besides… “Twisted. I merelytwistedthem.”
“Ye hurt her.”
My muscles tensed. I despised pain, but my woman had left me no choice. That mankind had apparently demoted me from god to king beyond the Æfen Gate didn’t bode well, and so, I’d had to make a point.
