Текст книги "The wolf and the crown of blood"

Автор книги: Elizabeth May

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

Bryony tenses. “Well what?”

“Is it true?” Theodora presses softly. Gently. “What he said. Are you his?”

I brace for her response. Because I fucked up at the griefwood and I said things I can’t take back. I’ve manipulated her, cut her open, hurt her. And I’m undeserving.

But she just says, very quietly, “I’m his.”

And that…

Fuck.

I think I could live and die and resurrect in the space between those words. I think I could make religions out of the way her mouth shapes them.

Theodora only nods. “While I appreciate the help, Wolf, this presents a new set of political headaches—”

A spike of agony lances through my skull. I hiss through my teeth—I can’t hold Alexios off much longer.

The princess’ expression sharpens. “Go,” she says. “I’ll handle things here. If my sister gets so much as a scratch from you, I’ll rip my way into your realm and tear you apart myself. We clear?”

I nod. “I protect what’s mine. You have my word.”

Then, because I’m nothing if not a gracious guest, I stretch my power through the courtyard, seeking the dead. Magic shimmers down my outstretched hand, and every body littering the courtyard—except Idris—bursts into white-gold flame, immolating down to the bone in a matter of moments until only ash remains.

“A parting favor,” I tell Theodora. “To minimize the mess. Left you the asshole for the pyre.”

The flat look she serves me could strip paint. “This is still a mess. One I’ll have to clean up while you fly off into the sunset.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just go, Wolf. Keep her safe.”

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42

BRYONY

EVANDER ANGLES US into a slow, circling descent about an hour outside of Hellevig. The ground rushes up, resolving into a small clearing nestled in the forest. He lands hard, the impact jarring through me.

“A little gentler on the landing next time?” I mutter as I extricate myself from his grip. “Before you rattle my bones right out of my—”

The words wither as I turn to face him. Blood streaks his face, leaking from his eyes, nose, and ears.

“You’re bleeding,” I breathe, reaching for him.

Evander captures my wrist. “It looks worse than it is.”

He’s lying. It takes severe damage to make an Eternal bleed like this.

“Are you dying? Be honest with me.”

A mirthless chuckle barks out of him. “No. I’m receiving a lesson in obedience.”

My brows squeeze together. “Alexios isn’t taking kindly to your rebellion, is he?”

“Oh, he’s delighted. My organs are currently liquefying themselves in celebration.” With a wince, Evander sinks down onto a nearby rock, his wings settling around him. “Now then.” He pats his thigh. “You’re hurt, and I’d like to put my favorite mortal back together again while I’m still coherent.”

His favorite mortal. I almost sneer at him, remembering his words to his brother. She’s a nice piece of ass to enjoy while I’m bored.

Right. I’m sure I’ve been the most entertaining plaything he’s had in ages. Definitely the only one who’s never put up with his shit.

I level him with a flat stare. “I don’t want you healing me. Not when you’re like this.”

“I’ve had a few centuries to get good at compartmentalizing the pain when Alexios yanks the leash. Get your ass over here.”

My nails bite into my palms. It’s a physical ache, this need to crawl into his lap and bury my face in the warm crook of his neck. To breathe him in until he’s the only thing in my head.

But he’s just a god mending his favorite fuck-toy.

“Quick and impersonal,” I force out.

And just like that, the warmth that had crept into his features disappears, replaced by the cold, unreadable mask of the Wolf. “Fine.”

I lower myself onto his thighs and brace for the onslaught.

His magic sinks into me, seeking out all the contusions with unerring precision. But it’s brisk, perfunctory—a dispassionate mending stripped of gentleness. In and out and done.

The space between our bodies becomes an ocean of distance. An expanse where fragile, impossible things curl in on themselves and quietly wither.

But then, I always knew how this story ended: in blood and destruction. I thought I was so careful. That I’d shored up the crumbling walls of my stupid, stubborn heart. Sealed all the stress fractures and boarded up the rotting doors. That I wouldn’t let the Wolf tunnel through my armor and take up residence in the rubble.

I miscalculated. Let him past my guard to burrow where soft girls keep their dreams and tender hopes.

Because I caught feelings for the beautiful knife destined for my back.

It was all a game she thought she could win.

I flinch at the memory of Evander’s words. Because I forgave him at the griefwood, but it still stings. I wonder if this is what lunacy feels like. Wanting something so desperately even as you understand, intimately, the shape of its ending.

And stupidly wanting it anyway.

When Evander’s power finishes knitting me together and withdraws, I lunge off his lap. “Thank you for playing along in Hellevig. For holding me and making it convincing. I know it was to placate Theodora, but I-I’m enforcing your end of our bargain. You promised me a head start, and I intend to use it.”

To wallow and prepare myself for heartbreak.

I turn on my heel, gravel crunching beneath my boots. Already seeking the winding deer trail out of this copse. I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t care. Just away.

But Evander’s voice yanks me up short. “I wasn’t playing along.”

The world goes still like the charged hush before a storm. My heart slams against my ribs.

“Nothing I said or did in Hellevig was for your sister’s benefit.” His voice is quieter now, almost… hesitant. As if he’s tasting the shape of his confession. “I held you because I needed to touch you. Because I was losing my mind after you left.” An uneven exhale leaves him. “My mother’s roses are dead. Just up and withered. Because the realm knows what I’ve been too craven to admit.”

No.

He doesn’t get to do this after shattering me into so many pieces. He doesn’t get to demolish what’s left. Fuck him.

“I heard you the other night,” I say, keeping my tone even, “with your brother. You were very clear about what I am to you.” I glance over my shoulder at him, my fingers flexing. Control, Bryony. “So you can save the mind games. I won’t fight you in the end. I’ll let you take your vengeance as neatly as possible, but I’m asking you not to make it hurt more. If I’ve made you feel even an ounce of compassion, give me that much.”

I’ve never seen so much quiet devastation in his face before. “Alexios lets Bastien off the leash for a few hours each centennial,” he says quietly. “With him at full power, there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done to stop him from killing you. So, I had to be what my brother needed to see. I had to—” His jaw flexes. “I had to lie to us both.”

The ache in my chest gives a vicious squeeze. “Why are you doing this? Is this another game? One final twist of the knife?”

He closes the distance between us, caging me against the trunk of a tree. “If this is another game, then I’m admitting defeat. I’m telling you that you’ve won.” His head dips, lips grazing my cheek. “Nemesis. I’m telling you that I’ve fallen wretchedly, stupidly in love with—”

“Stop. Please, don’t.” I can’t breathe around the pressure in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting for balance.

But Evander grazes my jaw, his touch unbearably tender. As if I’m precious. Cherished. “Look at me.”

“Ishkah. I can’t.” Hot tears streak down my cheeks.

Please stop.

I scrabble for composure, but I’m unraveling, splitting at the seams, and if I don’t get away from him—

“Just this once, I’m not obeying that word,” Evander says, wiping away my tears. “Because when Alexios comes for me—and he will come—I need you to be untouchable. To belong to me so completely that not even another Eternal can contest it.” He tenses like he’s bracing himself. “I’m impulsive. Cruel. Selfish down to the fucking marrow. But I love you, you chaotic, reckless girl. I love you, and losing you would break me. So let me Claim you.”

And there it is—the killing blow. Like he’s cracked my ribs open and seized my heart in his fist.

Because this is so much worse than him despising me.

“A Claim isn’t love.” I push at his chest. “It’s ownership.”

Something complicated moves across Evander’s face. All the raw, wretched wanting laid bare. “Listen to me very carefully, you impossible creature. I would never demand your submission or your surrender—”

I snort, arching a brow.

“Outside of mutually enjoyable naked scenarios,” he amends. “But I’m not asking for that. I’m offering all of me. Every fucked-up, unworthy piece. It’s all yours.”

He backs up to unfasten his shirt from between his wings, shrugging the garment off. His skin glows in the light, muscles shifting.

And then, in a move that steals the air from my lungs, he sinks to his knees.

My heart rate picks up. “What are you doing?”

“Proving a point. Do you have any idea what it means for a god to kneel? To prostrate himself? To let anyone touch his wings?”

Slowly, he takes my hand and guides it to his wing. My chest tightens as I glide my fingers along the soft arch, marveling at the way the feathers resettle. So many emotions expand through my chest, too big for my body to hold them all.

Evander’s lashes flutter closed as a shiver rolls through him. A faint groan rises in his throat, and the sound tugs at something low in my belly.

“This is the most profound gesture of surrender we can offer,” he says hoarsely as I stroke his feathers. “Exposing our wings is like baring our throats. Giving up everything we are to the one person in the realms we deem worthy. No one’s ever touched my wings before, Devaliant. Just you.”

A small, secret part of me fractures. The part that still harbors impossible yearnings. It fills my veins with light, with the reckless urge to take what he’s offering.

So I do. I keep nudging my fingers through his covert feathers. Evander tips his head back with a moan, wings going loose and pliant as I explore.

“This is a privilege reserved only for Chosen.” His words are raw. “Those we invite to share a soulbond. A reciprocal, permanent Claim. One a human hasn’t shared with a god in my lifetime.”

Slowly, so slowly, Evander withdraws a blade from his boot and presses the hilt into my palm. The metal is warm from his skin, the cross guard inlaid with an engraving of a wolf with its teeth bared in a snarl, wreathed in flame. His insignia.

“You deserve a choice.” He places his hand over mine and gently curls my fingers around his dagger. “There are two paths ahead of you, and I’m asking you to pick. Carve your mark into my skin. Reclaim every shred of agency stolen from you and take me in trade. Be my equal and walk at my side for eternity.” He looses a breath, composing himself. “Or cut me loose right here, right now, and I swear to you I’ll never again burden you with my inconvenient feelings. One word is all it’ll take, and this will be the last you ever see of me.”

I stare down at him, at this god kneeling in supplication for me. Offering up his wings to my touch after everything he told me at the griefwood. Offering me forever.

His eyes meet mine, and he whispers, “Can I be yours?”

It’s too much. My thoughts tangle in a maelstrom of want and shouldn’t and please, please let me have this. Let me keep him.

I’d always thought of gods as marble. Unchanging and impervious, their hearts closed to anything but conquest and the subjugation of the small, soft things. But Evander doesn’t demand I gentle myself into some digestible shape, all my awkward pieces sanded down to fit. He meets the feral thing behind my ribs with bared teeth of his own and calls it lovely. Calls it right.

“You’re thinking very loudly.” Evander’s voice is filled with a quiet sort of longing. “Talk to me, nemesis.”

Slowly, I lower myself to the ground. Until we’re kneeling face to face, close enough to trade breath.

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” he says, quieter this time. Almost tentative, like he’s bracing for a blow. Steeling himself against rejection.

“I’m thinking you must be out of your damned mind.” My hand tightens on his blade’s hilt. “Because I need you to be absolutely sure that you want me bound to you for eternity.”

Something flashes across his features—impatience and hunger and desperation. “Bryony…”

“Let me finish. Please.” I force myself to hold his gaze. Let him see all the longing. The hurt. “I have to give you an out. Because there’s no coming back from this, and I don’t think I’d survive it if I felt your regret through a soulbond. Knowing I was the worst mistake you ever made. I don’t know anything about soulbonding with gods, but I’m not like you. I’m just—”

“A human. I know. I don’t care.”

“I’ll never be able to fly with you, Wolf.”

“Then fall with me.” His expression softens. “I don’t know anything about this kind of bond either, but if it’s anything like two gods, you’ll share my lifespan. That’s enough for me.”

I blink hard against the sudden sting in my eyes. “Please be sure.”

A low sound leaves him. Then his mouth is on mine, soft and searing all at once. His kiss is like a whispered confession. A vow sighed against my skin as he tips his forehead to rest against my own.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my very long existence.” His thumbs stroke over my cheekbones, catching the tears that escape. “There’s no part of me that doesn’t crave you, no part of me that isn’t already hopelessly, stupidly yours. The thought of touching anyone who isn’t you makes me want to tear the world apart. You’re it for me, nemesis. It’s only ever been you.”

I swallow against the sudden thickness in my throat. “But I don’t have a godmark. I’m not—”

“Then give me whichever mark you choose. Cut it into my flesh, carve it into my bones, I don’t give a fuck. Just make me yours the same way I want to make you mine.”

My heart feels like it’s going to slam right out of my chest. With shaking fingers, I press the edge of the dagger to Evander’s chest above his pectoral. Flesh splits beneath the steel, and I form the jagged lines that spell out my Claiming.

The eight-pointed star symbolizing the first that lit the sky at my birth.

I lower the blade. “What comes next?”

“I taste your blood, and I’ll open my power up to you. Decide where you want my mouth.”

Where don’t I?

I shrug out of my coat and pull off my shirt. Cool air meets my naked torso, but I barely feel the chill. Snatching up the dagger again, I choose a spot just below my collarbone and score a shallow line before I can second-guess myself.

Evander makes a low sound. Then he’s surging forward, hands grabbing my hips as his mouth seals over the cut. Pleasure lances through me at the sting. The slick drag of his tongue. I twist a hand in his hair, and he keeps going, groaning against my skin. His power thrums through my veins as the Claiming begins to take hold.

“Your turn,” he says.

He brings my wrist to his lips and brushes a feather-light kiss to the frantic thrum of my pulse as more of his power rushes into me. It gathers beneath my skin until a new mark takes shape over where Alexios’ used to be. Luminous gold limning my flesh in delicate filigree.

Eight lovely points form on my wrist in gilded ink—a more elaborate twin to the sigil I carved into him.

“Now bite me,” Evander commands, baring his throat. “Don’t be gentle.”

My teeth sink into the corded muscle of his neck, and I bite down until he shudders against me. Until the copper tang of him spills hot and sweet across my tongue.

Nothing has ever tasted so holy. So profane.

He plunges his hands into my hair and tips my head, pressing his mouth to mine and kissing me deeply. Chasing the taste of himself. Of us.

I’m lost to it, to him. There’s no up or down, no air, no gravity. Nothing exists except sensation. The torrent of memory and feeling roars through the place where our souls collide.

The fundamental parts of me rearrange to accommodate the shape of him. It’s separate and symbiotic all at once. Two sets of heaving lungs, straining for oxygen. That’s his heartbeat pounding beside mine. His soul flooding me with mine and always and let me keep you.

His love is more natural disaster than emotion. It does not bend. It does not yield. There are no words in any language to capture the depthless intensity, how completely it consumes him. I’m on fire and I’m drowning, and I’m certain this will shatter me. Because it isn’t gentle, it isn’t sweet. It isn’t something I can cup in my palms like glass or hold tenderly to my chest.

It’s a storm. A war cry.

Evander’s hands are everywhere, now. Unlacing my boots. Stripping me with ruthless efficiency. Hot palms and clever fingers skate over every part of me.

“Fucking exquisite,” he rasps. His trousers and boots meet mine on the forest floor. “You’re so damn perfect.”

His mouth follows the path forged by his fingers. He pushes me against the tree, holding me up as his mouth nudges between my thighs. Each reverent swipe of his tongue against my pussy, each press of his lips, feels like an act of worship.

He whispers words in a language I don’t understand, but somehow, I know it means forever. Means always. The translation bleeds through our bond in fits and starts—in vows of vengeance and fidelity. In oaths to raze entire kingdoms to ash for me.

His hands tighten, digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. When he opens his eyes and looks up at me, the breath leaves me in a rush. It’s awe and adoration, worship and want.

My Chosen, I hear him think as he licks into me. Mine.

Then he rises and kisses me again, and I taste myself on him—my blood, my pleasure. I’m lost. I drown myself in the slide of his tongue against mine as he delves deeper, hotter, tasting and taking and devouring.

Evander’s hands slip beneath my ass, gripping me tight. I wrap my legs around his waist as he pins me up against the trunk. The rough bark scrapes my shoulders, but I barely register the sting. Not when he’s notching his hips between my thighs, his cock a blunt pressure against me.

“Look at me,” he says. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Our stares lock as he slowly pushes forward. Then he begins to move. Hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Pulling out only to surge back in, again and again, settling into a pattern that has me digging my heels into his ass. Clutching him closer. Deeper.

This isn’t like Aethertide. This is slower, tender, and more raw than I knew sex could be. A declaration of intent. All the while, his eyes remain on my face, tracking the flutter of my lashes, my breaths, the helpless part of my lips as sensation winds tighter.

“I tried so hard not to love you,” Evander tells me with a thrust that has me seeing stars. “But then you left, and I didn’t know how to be in a world that didn’t have you in it.”

I dig my nails into his shoulders, urging him on. “Couldn’t even keep the roses alive for a day?”

A breathless huff of laughter stirs my hair. He slides his palm down to press against the small of my back, shifting his stance, hitting deeper. “That’s right. Never stood a chance.” He presses a kiss to my jaw. “I don’t know that I’ll ever deserve you. I’m not a good male. I’ll never be easy.”

“If I wanted easy, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with a god.”

He laughs. Then he readjusts his grip on my thighs until he can push them wider, sinking deeper. He fucks me a little harder. A little more focused. His cock drags over a spot inside me that sets my veins alight. He shifts his weight, wedging a hand between us to skim down, down, and then his fingers press to my clit.

My head thumps back against the trunk. “Right there.”

He rubs in tight circles, timing it with each thrust. My back bows, and my muscles clench down as pleasure builds and builds.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “Come apart for me. Let me feel you.”

He leans down to lick my pulse before setting his teeth to the delicate skin—a bright burst of pleasure-pain that sends me hurtling over the edge. I splinter with a fractured cry. There is only the clench of my body around his, him inside me as he buries his face in my hair and groans his completion against my neck. The ragged symphony of our breathing and the thundering of our hearts as they gradually slow.

Evander nuzzles me, his chest expanding with a deep inhale like he’s trying to memorize my scent. To carry it with him always.

Carefully, he peels us away from the tree and lowers us to the grass, cushioning me on a wing. He props himself up on his elbow and trails reverent fingers over my face. “Hey, Chosen.” There’s an entire liturgy of longing distilled down into those two words. “How are we feeling?”

I turn my attention inward to the glittering tapestry of him in my head. He’s everywhere—threaded through my every breath, bleeding into all the hollow spaces I didn’t even know were empty until he filled them up and made them his.

“Yours,” I tell him. And it encompasses everything. “I feel like I’m yours.”

Evander’s eyes flare. “Again.”

“Yours.”

Something eases in his expression. “I like the way that sounds.”

A comfortable silence settles between us. I lift a hand, idly brushing the symbol carved into his chest. The cuts have already healed over into thin, silvery scars.

“Will these stay?”

Evander covers my fingers with his own, pressing my palm flat over the steady thud of his heart. “Chosen marks always stay.”

“And you want that?”

“I want everything with you.” After a lingering press of his lips to mine, Evander sits up. “I hate to cut this short, but I need to take you back to the tower.”

With a groan, I tug on my discarded garments. By the time I finish lacing my boots, Evander is dressed.

I give his wings an indulgent stroke. “And after you take me back?”

Evander opens his mouth to answer, but then his head snaps up. He narrows his eyes at the treeline. “Go,” he snarls without taking his attention off the trees. His tone brooks no argument. “Run, Devaliant.”

So I do.

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