Текст книги "Eyes of devious burgundy"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

44

“Here you go, Assyria,” Rapp said, sliding a bowl of steaming food toward me. The war camp’s gruel had a pungent odor to it, one that made me scrunch up my nose. I hadn’t had much of an appetite since my injuries, which the lead healer said was normal with the anti-venom they had to give me after the cobra sank its fangs into me.

I glanced sidelong at Rokath, the male who had, in fact, saved my life. I didn’t dare think it was because he held any affection toward me, but merely a result of his selfish desire to remain alive and healthy to defeat the Angels.

Except without him every one of us would be dead.

That explanation Xannirin had given me still didn’t remove the hurt from the wound of being trapped against my will again and unwanted.

My right arm was still strapped to my side, which meant I also had to eat the food with my non-dominant hand. Four days wasn’t nearly enough time to rid myself of the clumsiness that came along with it. As I lifted the spoonful of slop to my mouth, I leaned forward and opened my mouth. But I misjudged the distance, and the spoon skidded off the side of my face, plastering it with the sticky substance before flipping out of my hand and landing on the ground.

Grem and Zeec leaped on the food before I could bend down and pick it up. “At least I don’t have to clean up my mess,” I shrugged when Rokath shot me a side-eyed glare and shooed them back to their cushions. Rapp giggled like a youngling at the whole interaction.

That Rokath had taken to eating with Rapp and me was a surprise. That he’d slept with me at night ever since my attempted escape was another. Though I didn’t think it was because he thought I’d try to sneak away again. No, there was something else to it, something I didn’t know how to—or want—to name.

Over the past few days, I’d sensed a shift in his emotions. Brushing down the bond, I had tried to sift through the sands of his feelings in an attempt to reveal what lay underneath them, hidden by his enigmatic exterior. What I found only compounded the disorienting twister of my own. The yearning for freedom hadn’t disappeared, and yet I found myself considering if Rokath could offer me more autonomy, albeit in his own way.

“Here, you can have mine,” Rokath said, offering me his utensil.

“Don’t you need to–” I cut myself off when I saw his bowl was empty. “It’s already been in your mouth.”

A snort escaped him, and he raised a single brow. “We’ve shared bodily fluids before.”

Another chuckle drew my attention to Rapp, whose tongue flicked over the ring in his lip as his burgundy eyes bounced between Rokath and me. My cheeks flamed as I tried and failed to come up with an excuse to get out of accepting his spoon. There was something…oddly intimate about it.

I squirmed in my seat, then adjusted my injured arm. “I’m not that hungry.”

What I wouldn’t give for an apple I could eat one handed.

A juicy, crisp one at that.

He tsked, like he was disappointed in me, then thrust the smooth metal into my hand. “Eat. You need to regain your strength.”

“Rokath is right, unfortunately. If you want to run away again, you’ll need more energy. Especially out in the desert,” Rapp added, grinning maliciously. After spending a few weeks with the male and watching how he interacted with Rokath, I understood why they were friends.

Where Rokath’s fiery temper and unyielding seriousness could scorch a room, Rapp’s irreverent jokes and sardonic humor cooled the flames. Though both had a touch of madness about them, which was what I assumed brought them together in the first place. Like calling to like, and all that.

Over the course of our time together, Rapp had revealed that he came from an abusive household and that joining the army was his means of snatching freedom for himself. As one of the few burgundy-eyed soldiers, he’d stood out and been endlessly tormented by those with lesser power until Rokath had intervened. That Rokath was capable of such kindness had shocked me, but Rapp swore he had layers he rarely showed to the outside world.

He’d never admit it, but the pressure placed upon him gets to him sometimes, Rapp had told me the day after I awoke from my injuries. A moment later, Rokath strode into the tent and he quickly changed the subject.

The thought had given me pause then. Sometimes I felt like the Weaver was acting through Rapp, trying to force Rokath and I together. Out of the three of us, he seemed to be the only one who wanted us to let our animosity bleed away.

And he often did that through teasing Rokath. Which my mate did not always take to kindly.

This was no exception.

A growl grumbled from Rokath, and Rapp didn’t even flinch under the ferocity of Rokath’s stare. He just kept grinning, like he enjoyed forcing this side of his friend to the surface.

Which he absolutely did.

I pressed my lips together and busied myself with attempting to eat once again. Instead of using my wrist to maneuver the utensil to my mouth this time, I opted to use my shoulder. Once the food was stabilized high enough, I moved my face to it, managing to get a mouthful off of it.

I gagged, dropping the spoon and reaching for the water Rapp had also fetched for me. The bland gruel stuck in my throat, too thick to go down on its own, and the water was not helping nearly enough. A forceful swallow, then another cough, dislodged it and allowed it to pass further into my digestive system. “That is the worst it’s ever been,” I somehow got out, swiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Rapp and Rokath watched me with varying degrees of amusement. “This is why we don’t have females in the war camp,” my mate stated, propping an elbow on the side of his chair and leaning into it.

Rapp snorted. “Or maybe if we did, we’d have some better food.”

“Because the females cook better than the males?” I quipped, pushing the bowl away from me. I’d rather go hungry than attempt to force more into my belly.

“Well, yes,” Rapp said, threading his fingers behind his head. The chair creaked as he rocked back in it, poised on two legs.

I rolled my eyes. “Males have equal cooking ability to females.”

“You sure about that?” Rapp shot back, looking pointedly at my discarded food.

Sighing, I braced my heavy head on my fist. “It’s about the effort you put in. When they’re trying to feed tens of thousands, it’s a little difficult.”

“You said before you could cook. Maybe I’ll allow you to help after all,” Rokath offered, something like cunning glittering in his eyes. There was the freedom I thought he might be capable of allowing.

A scoff slipped out of me as I offered him a glare. “Like you would allow me to be unguarded around all those males.”

He shrugged, acting like he wasn’t a hawk who kept sharp eyes on me at all times. Especially now.

“Besides, I can’t,” I grumbled, gesturing to my bound arm. It ached, and after riding all day, my calf did too. More than anything, I wanted to go to bed. Sleep had not come easy, though the poppy the lead healer had offered did help a little. I’d worry about food again in the morning.

“We can go to bed now if you’d like.”

“Don’t you have to go to your nightly officer’s meeting?”

“I’d love to be included in your conversation,” Rapp chuckled, the legs of his chair hitting the ground with a thump.

“Assyria is tired and would like to retire now,” Rokath said aloud, never removing his heavy regard from me. A shiver licked down my spine, and I raked my teeth across my bottom lip. Rokath tracked the movement.

Rapp fiddled with the studs above his eyebrow. “We don’t have much to discuss since we haven’t heard from Trol. Might be good to give the Parancsok a night off.”

“Aye,” Rokath agreed, still fixated on me. I held my ground, offering him the same intensity, but tried to hide the pebbling skin and the hint of sweat that broke out on the back of my neck.

Rapp gathered our bowls and spoons and rose from the table. “Shall I plug my ears while I sleep tonight?”

Simultaneously, Rokath and I slashed our attention to the grinning Hadvezér. “That won’t be necessary,” Rokath growled, and I smothered a laugh.

We hadn’t coupled since he forced me to take his cock and swallow his seed. My core heated at the memory, and I cursed myself for not only thinking of it, but also for the thrill it sent through me.

Rokath had, in fact, shown me exactly what it was to be alive.

Still, he’d left me so desperate and wanting, coiled tighter than that cobra, and I hadn’t found relief for it yet.

Rapp winked at me before disappearing through the half-open flap. With a grumble, Rokath left the table and closed it, fastening the ties so we wouldn’t be disturbed. What sounds had filled the background vanished as he turned toward me again. On shaky legs, I rose, meeting him in the middle of the tent. A threadbare rug graced the center of it, and it wiggled my toes against the scratchy fabric in an attempt to ground myself.

“Shall we begin?” Rokath murmured, and I nodded.

As with every night since the bite, Rokath unwound the bind from my arm, supporting it while he worked my tunic off. I could scarcely breathe as his fingers trailed ever so lightly over my skin, leaving a trail of embers in their wake. Then, he secured it again and worked his way lower.

The ties to my pants I unfastened myself, at least. But the caress he offered my bare thighs, the solid muscle he lent me for balance as he stripped them off my legs, was something else entirely. His riotous burgundy eyes ghosted across my skin, from my knees to my face. “Do you want to change undergarments tonight or in the morning?”

I swallowed, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. “In the morning is fine.”

He rose, seeming to grow even more massive than before as he towered over me. My plaited hair spilled down my back as our eyes remained locked, tickling my bare skin. Spice and fire filled my nostrils, so masculine and so him.

When Rokath stepped away, toward the bedside table where a small vial of milky white liquid waited, air whooshed from my lungs. He flicked off the stopper, then offered it to me. Tipping my head back, I drank it to the dregs.

Meanwhile, he stripped out of his own clothing, crinkled from sweating in it beneath his armor. The days in the desert were unbearably hot, so when I emptied the glass of water still left on the table, I appreciated every drop. From a tattered, nearly falling to pieces, leather bag, he pulled out fresh clothing and arranged it on one of the table’s chairs. I’d learned it was so he knew exactly where all his clothes were in case of a middle of the night attack. The dirty ones, including mine, he stuck into another bag to be delivered to one of the washing stations the following day.

At least there was one perk of being with the Halálhívó—clean clothing. The rest of the army had to suffer through the same sets until we reached an oasis where we could wash everything again.

“Why do you have that worn bag? Surely another would suit you better,” I commented, climbing onto the bed.

Rokath bristled, our bond flaring with a tumult of emotion. “Because I am accustomed to it.” Anguish threaded through his tone despite how he tried to hide it. I wondered if it had anything to do with the snippets Rapp had shared with me about Rokath’s past. He refused to give specifics, stating that Rokath should be the one to tell me.

Curiosity piqued, I couldn’t smother my desire to press for more information. “You could become accustomed to another,” I pointed out. With one arm, I fluffed the pillow on my side of the bed, peeking at him from under my lashes while I did so.

Rokath rubbed his temples, tension radiating off his frame. Tapping into our bond, I nearly gasped with what I felt from him. Anger, yes, but also grief, so thick and heavy I wondered how he wasn’t crushed beneath it. It was so similar to my own, and for a moment I wanted to reach out and hold him.

My fingers twitched, and then I forced them into my lap.

“What I had to do to become the Halálhívó,” he started, then paused as if he was struggling with allowing the words past his lips. “What I had to do, to endure, was something no one should. You are too young to have known Xannirin’s father, the last Kral, and his two brothers.”

Dropping his hands, he hung his head, looking at the stained leather and not meeting my eyes. “I keep this as a reminder of what my father made me do. So on the days doubt creeps in, I can at least comfort myself with the fact that I am who I am in spite of him.”

His words reached between my ribs and gouged another wound into my heart. The vulnerability he offered me was something I never thought I’d see in him. If he was saying anything at all, it must have meant he was starting to trust me. First Kiira, then Rapp…

Could Rokath really be capable of emotional intimacy?

I was at a loss for what to say.

So, I ruined the moment because I didn’t know what else to do. “The mighty Halálhívó doubts himself? How scandalous.”

Then, he slashed his attention to me. “Overconfidence is just as dangerous as underconfidence, little imposter. Look what happened to you.”

An audible click sounded as I snapped my teeth shut. I couldn’t find an argument to throw back at him, so I huffed and flopped onto my back. The mattress was hard, and it should have sent a twinge of pain through my shoulder with how I landed. But the poppy had begun to take effect, and all I felt was bliss as I wiggled to make myself comfortable.

Silence stretched between us as Rokath climbed into the bed. Both of us rested on our backs with hands folded on our stomachs, hugging the edges so we weren’t forced to touch.

“I wear my mother’s ring as a reminder of the good times of my life,” I murmured, a heaviness settling over me and making it hard to properly form words. “I wonder if I’ll ever have them again.”

Darkness closed in on me, and my lids thudded closed. If Rokath replied, I did not hear, for a heartbeat later, I drifted off into the land of dreams, where I could at least pretend I was happy.

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45

Iglanced sidelong at Assyria, watching the way her hair swayed against her back as she moved in time with her horse’s stride. The setting sun shone in her eyes, casting a kaleidoscope over the dark color and making those little flecks of red sparkle. I’d noticed them more and more as I spent time close to her, having to help her in and out of her clothes every day, to brush and fix her hair, to pick things up for her as her arm was still immobilized.

I’d become hyper aware of every twitch of Assyria’s muscles, every time she was thirsty or hungry, every time she needed a break from riding Blaeze.

Reaper, what are you doing to me?

I couldn’t—wouldn’t get attached to Assyria. Yet she was everything I’d ever wanted in a female, a challenge I couldn’t walk away from. She fought my need for control with more ferocity than some of the soldiers battling with their Angel attackers. The thrill of our interactions heated my blood in the best way. I’d always craved the tension, the fight, the conquest in everything I did. Assyria gave me that in spades.

She was utterly perfect for me, and I was a fucking fool dragging her into a war. She was a distraction, and yet I couldn’t stay away from her. I hated her for that. Hated myself too.

“I see it!” she exclaimed, hovering her free hand over her eyes and squinting.

The first tricklings of the oasis around Ustlyak appeared before us, with prickly green bushes hugging the water’s edge, and cacti engorged from whatever liquid they could retain. It would still be a few days before we reached Trol and the rest of the army, who, to my surprise and relief, still held off the Angels on the opposite side of the desert city. The influx of new soldiers we’d sent ahead of us had made the difference.

Our horses’ hooves clopped against the packed earth giving way to stone as we sank into the canyon that protected the city and the oasis. We had to lean back to assist in their descent, and as Assyria mimicked my movement, a twinge of pain tore through her shoulder. I whipped my head to the side, then cursed myself for appearing as an overeager male ready to sweep his mate into his arms at the first sign of trouble.

That wasn’t who I was.

Refocusing on the road ahead of us, I noticed two specks moving in the distance. I narrowed my gaze, suspicion nipping at my nerves.

Angels? Scouts?

They clung to the shadows of the striated canyon walls, moving between reeds and giving away their position with the sway of the fronds.

Untrained in the art of sneaking about, then.

With Assyria by my side, I had to be certain of the potential danger.

“Search,” I muttered as low as I could to my hounds. Grem and Zeec bounded forward on silent paws, splitting up to cover more distance.

“What was that for?” Assyria whispered, understanding the need for quiet. Our bond made us highly attuned to the other’s feelings, of which she was getting far too good at reading mine. And I hers.

“Movement ahead,” I murmured back, eyes never leaving the two figures. Grem had caught their scent and padded in their direction. Zeec noticed his brother’s sudden turn, and he paused, surveying and sniffing, before trotting forward and then backtracking, coming at the two from behind.

“By the wall?” Assyria asked.

I grunted in response.

Grem released a warning bark that echoed between the stone, and both froze. They were close enough now that I saw their sex and coloring as they stepped out of the shadows, hands raised.

A sharp whistle had Grem and Zeec lowering to the ground, eyes glued to the males, but still in a relaxed posture. “Who goes there?” I shouted.

“We were sent from Ustlyak to greet you,” one called out in return. I stopped my horse and the entire procession. Rapp trotted to my side from his position toward the rear, having heard the exchange of words.

“Escort,” I commanded Grem and Zeec, and in unison, they rose, herding the two forward and closer to us.

A fierce protectiveness rose in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at my mate. She sat stoic with her chin held high as they approached, not an ounce of fear emanating from her expression or down our bond. Whether she was foolish or stupid for it, I couldn’t decide. To her credit, she’d never truly been afraid of me either, and these two were nothing in comparison.

The two strode forward with the occasional backward glance at the hounds, and they wisely kept their hands raised. Finally, they stopped, though Grem and Zeec remained in close proximity, attention focused with well trained precision.

“Kneel,” I told them.

“You sure like telling people to do that,” Assyria spoke in my mind.

“Now is not the time,” I snapped back.

They dropped to their knees, bowing their heads to the ground in deference to me. I leaped from my horse, shaking the ground with my landing. Rapp followed a moment later, shadows swirling around his arms. One swallowed, hands trembling with the barest movements, as we stalked forward.

With a flick of his wrists, Rapp sent black binds around their wrists, keeping them suspended in the air as I bent to examine them. As a Binder, his magic would block all access to theirs, and they’d remain immobile until he released them. This routine was one Rapp and I executed with swift movements, having stopped and disarmed many over our centuries together.

I tossed one paltry dagger to the side, then stepped back and studied the two. By their clothes, they weren’t noble, certainly not from the merchant class either. The dusty, stained linen spoke of long, difficult days trying to survive in this wasteland they called home.

“Who sent you?” I questioned.

“Hadvezér Trol, Your Glory,” the one responded again.

I cocked my head to the side and crossed my arms. “Did he?”

“Aye, those of us who are able bodied have been working as messengers for him since the Angels pushed through Lutsk. He wants you to send some of the footsoldiers along the canyon ridge to attack from a higher vantage point,” the male said. He glanced down at his chest. “If you’ll allow me my hands, sir, I have a note as well. Hadvezér Trol thought you might not believe us without it written in his hand.”

A snort slipped out before I could stop it. Trol wasn’t wrong. With a subtle nod, I told Rapp to release him. The black binds fell away, and the male reached slowly into an inner pocket of his tunic. The parchment was damp, but still intact, when he handed it to me.

Keeping my eye on the two of them, I unfolded and read what was written there. I recognized Trol’s messy script instantly, and the message the male had relayed was true. Additionally, Trol needed sharpened weapons flown to him as quickly as possible. I passed the note along to Rapp, who skimmed it, then tucked it away.

With a wave, he released the second male’s wrists from the binds, and his shadows slithered into his palms again.

“Rise. You may return to the front with a new message for him,” I told them, then snapped for a piece of parchment. One of the mounted Százados trotted forward and handed that and a stick of charcoal to me. I quickly scratched out a note to Trol, then folded it in a neat square. The leader of the two stepped forward and accepted it from my outstretched hand.

“Thank you, Halálhívó. We will ensure this message arrives to him as soon as possible,” he said, then gestured for his companion to rise. They took off at a jog back the way they’d come.

I turned my attention to Rapp. “How do you want to split up?”

His tongue flicked over the ring in his lip. “Is that what you’d like to do?”

“Not particularly. But we don’t know what it looks like out there,” I jerked my head forward, indicating the oasis that led to the city and beyond. “I told Trol to meet us in Ustlyak to discuss the plan.”

Rapp continued to fiddle with the bronze ring. “Let’s stick together for now, since the canyon is wide enough for our group to travel easily. When it starts to narrow, I’ll have a few battalions fly the weapons forward. That way, everyone has food and water for as long as possible, and we don’t have to risk a wagon on the surface up there.”

That was why Rapp was my second in command. He always found a way to balance the tasks and the risks while managing the hundreds of thousands of males under our command. Add in Trol’s attention to detail and adaptability, and we crafted a formidable team.

“Good. Let’s keep moving and get the Angels out of the Demon Realm sooner rather than later.”

A malicious grin stretched all the way to his eyes. “Aye, Halálhívó. Now is our chance to finally finish this.”

In my bones, I knew it was true. The Fates had woven this path perfectly, and with the Angels pinned in their advance, we’d slaughter them all within a matter of days.

This campaign would finally end.

A decade was the blink of an eye in a Demon’s lifespan, and the swift victory would decisively make me the greatest general in all of Ravasz, if not in the entire history of Ravasz, for millennia to come.

Perhaps the Weaver gave me Assyria so I would have something to look forward to once all of this was over, since I had planned for much more of my life to be spent on the battlefield.

At the thought of my mate, I glanced at her, finding her burgundy eyes scanning the horizon again. The way the sun dusted over them made them look like they were ablaze, a riot of red that captivated me. It wasn’t until she flicked her attention at me that I realized I’d been staring. Rather than shy away or pretend that I wasn’t, I held her gaze.

Something different stretched between us in that moment, something I couldn’t quite place, and for once, I wasn’t upset with what the bond poured into me.

“Onward?” I said to Rapp, still looking at Assyria.

“Aye,” Rapp replied, passing me on the way to his horse.

I scratched Grem and Zeec behind the ears, offering words of praise to my obedient hounds before returning to my own. The black beast tossed his head as I picked up the reins and urged him forward again. With a groan, the procession resumed, and a heady anticipation filled the air, each male sensing just how close we were to victory.

“You could train me, you know,” Assyria finally said, though she kept her attention on the road ahead of her.

“For what?”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Catching the movement of those two males. It took me time to find them, and it was mostly with the help of Grem that I discovered their location. Before, I only had two ideas as to how I could be useful. Here’s a new one. See? I’m learning.” Her words held a sharpness to them, but they were duller than they had ever been before, as if beneath the barb, she knew I’d say no and was protecting herself from any blowback from me.

I pondered her sentiment as all light disappeared from the canyon, cooling the air quickly. We’d have to stop for the night soon, though I wanted all to be in the security these walls offered first.

Assyria hadn’t tried to run again, hadn’t even thought of running again, since I saved her from that snake bite. As I subtly tried to probe her emotions, I sensed that she didn’t want to, and her intentions were pure with her desire to learn this skill.

She looked at the sky and sighed. “I’m bored. I spend far too much time in my head, and I want to get out of it. To let go of the memories that haunt me.” Then, she turned her attention to me. The tenacious expression she wore stole my breath. “I want to feel alive. Demons who are alive don’t sit on the sidelines.” Then, she faced forward, having made her case.

She wanted to love and be loved again, of that I was certain. Every time she lowered the barrier around her mind, that was at the forefront of it. Yet I couldn’t give her my heart, because that was far too dangerous. I could give her this—a sense of purpose, a way to find happiness independently of me. I examined it from every angle and assessed each possibility and probability because I had to be certain this was the right call. “Okay,” I finally replied.

Her head whipped to the side, so fast that the scarf covering her head fell away. “Do you truly mean that? Or is this training going to entail me being on my back or on my knees?”

“Watch it. I am trying to be nice,” I growled. Though I couldn’t deny the allure of either of those images.

The corner of her mouth twitched up before she smothered the grin. “Who would have thought the mighty Halálhívó had it in him to be nice?”

“No one. So don’t go around saying anything. I do have a reputation to uphold.” The teasing tone with which the words slipped down our mental connection surprised me.

“Was that a joke?”

“I don’t joke.”

A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, and I found myself enamored with the sound. Assyria had laughed in my face, on multiple occasions, but always with spitting venom. This laugh was pure, bright, and her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I sucked in a breath and counted to ten, trying to get a grip on myself. “Tomorrow while we ride, I’ll show you how to spot movement in the distance. It’s not hard, and there are plenty of small animals you can practice on. An extra set of eyes, especially this close to the Angels, wouldn’t hurt.”

She offered me an unfiltered, unguarded smile. “Thank you, Halálhívó.” No animosity, no hatred, no resentment threaded through her tone.

I found myself wanting more of those bright smiles too. Embers of long-dead emotions sparked in me, and I didn’t try to smother them. Still, I was unsure of how to proceed, and how to deal with all of them with the Angels mere days away from us. So I cleared my throat and returned my attention to the road, scanning for a place to stop for the night.

By the time the camp was settled, I found myself with Rapp in one of the food tents, grabbing an extra bowl for Assyria, and then sitting around the table in mine with both of them, for once, not hating that I was spending time with my mate.

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