Текст книги "Wicked Is the Reaper"

Автор книги: Nisha J. Tuli

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

Chapter Sixteen

As the wind howled and the snow fell, we cleaned up and then spent the next day awkwardly trying to give each other space and make polite conversation. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed and touched me or the way he’d spoken to me last night.

As if sensing my thoughts, I turned to find him watching me with a penetrating look, like he was trying to see right into the center of my soul.

He tended the fire constantly, but the windows bled and the cold continued to seep in. We survived the day, and I wondered how we’d manage much longer like this. There was nothing else to do but cook, and eat, and stare at each other. I really tried not to think too much about what else we could be doing to pass the time.

It had only been a day, and I was unraveling like threadbare cloth.

After we endured another meal, I got the sense neither of us was hungry. It was just something to while away the time. As night fell, the temperature dropped, and Wicked kept stoking the fire, even braving the cold and snow to chop more wood. He refused to let me help, and I put up a feeble protest, content to let it lie when he shot me down. Soon the hearth was blazing, taking the edge off the chill.

“Is it always this cold in here?” I asked, blowing on my hands.

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said and then stalked toward the bed. He dragged the covers off and laid them in front of the fire. Next, he retrieved the pillows. “Sleep here tonight, so you’re warmer.”

With a nod, I slid off my chair and under the covers. I sighed in relief at the blast of heat that washed over me. “Where will you sleep?” I asked. We both looked at the stripped bed, and Wicked rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ll be fine over there,” he said, uncertainty in his voice.

I rolled my eyes and lifted the covers. “Get in, you big oaf.”

He headed toward me and stopped. “You sure?”

“We’ve slept next to each other for weeks. Why are you worried now?”

He seemed to weigh a list of options in his mind, and I wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he shook off whatever reservations were holding him back and approached.

After he settled down next to me, I had to stifle a groan. He was so warm, heat poured off him like a waterfall. I shifted, snuggling in next to him. I couldn’t help it.

A heartbeat passed before his arm lifted and it wrapped around my waist, tucking me into the curve of his big body. Now I had the fire at my front and the wall of his heat at my back.

“Mmm, this is perfect,” I said, the breath of his low chuckle brushing my neck.

“If I’d known you were this easy to please, I would have done this sooner.”

I gave his arm a playful smack, and he laughed. The sound was like the chiming of crystal, and I wished he’d do it again and again. I looked up, our gazes meeting.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“Nothing,” came his entirely too quick reply.

I narrowed my eyes. “Liar. Tell me.”

He paused and then blew out a breath. “The same thing I’ve been thinking about for the past three days,” he said, his voice dropping. “How wet you were. How you tasted on my fingers. How you moaned when you came.”

My embarrassed laugh sputtered out. “Well, don’t sugar-coat it, Wicked.” He chuckled, the sound threatening to wrench me open.

“What are you thinking about, Princess?”

“Clearly about that now. Thanks,” I said, and he laughed again, his hand sliding over my torso, his fingers spreading wide as my stomach swooped. “Confession?”

“Hmm?”

“I was already thinking about how good it felt when you touched me, too. About your...” I cleared my throat. “How it would feel to have more of you inside me.”

The silence in the room grew so thick you could have sliced it and served it with butter. Wicked shifted closer, his body pressing against my back where I felt the evidence of how this conversation was affecting him. The heat between my thighs flared, and I heard his sharp intake of breath.

“If I take off your clothes, will you be too cold?” he asked, his baritone low and rough, his warm fingers sliding under my tunic, making gentle circles on my skin.

“Something tells me I’m about to get very hot,” I said, my voice hoarse as he flattened his hand and ground his hips into my ass.

He kissed the curve of my throat and then dragged the lobe of my ear between his teeth. I flipped around to face him, barely settling before his mouth slanted over mine in a furious kiss that left us both panting. He pulled up the hem of my tunic, yanking it over my head and tossing it away.

My skin erupted into gooseflesh, partly from the cold, but mostly from him, while his hands slid up my arms and over my shoulders before he cupped my breasts and leaned in for another deep kiss that plunged straight into my wet, achy center.

“Rowan,” he whispered, his mouth against mine. “I want to fuck that wicked little mouth and this pretty pussy and make you come with my name on your lips until I’ve completely ruined you.”

“Oh gods,” was the only response I could muster as he yanked off his own tunic and then tugged down on my waistband, pulling off my leggings and adding them to the pile of our gathering clothing.

“But what I really want is to taste you, Princess. I want to make you come apart with my tongue deep inside you.” He rose over me and kissed me again as I slid my hands into his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him against me.

“Rowan?” he asked. “Tell me what you need. What you want.”

“All of that,” I said, breathless. “All that stuff you said. That sounds very good.”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling like shadowed emeralds. The sound was low and seductive, and his breath grazed over my now fevered skin. I definitely wasn’t cold anymore.

Wicked placed more kisses down the length of my body, his mouth closing over a nipple before he sucked hard, causing me to gasp. He continued his journey, his tongue and his lips marking a path of our sins until his breath skated between my thighs. His hands pushed my legs apart, spreading me wide as he made a rumbling sound of approval.

He sat back on his knees and I lifted on my elbows and watched as he pulled off his own breeches, leaving him bare and beautiful and glorious. I studied the hard length of his cock, wondering how that was supposed to fit. He gave me a feral smile as he stroked himself with his hand while I watched in fascination.

He then crawled past me and lay on his back with his head against the sofa.

Taking my wrists, he pulled me over.

“Ride my face, Princess.” He guided me over top of him until my knees were planted on either side of his head. He let out a sigh of contentment as he took in a deep inhale, his eyes closing.

Sliding his rough hands up the inside of my legs, I trembled as his thumbs swept through the wet folds of my body. He lifted his head, kissing the skin where his hands had just been, and then his tongue flicked between my legs and I let out a soft cry.

“Wicked,” I breathed as he did it again, circling the tip of his tongue on my clit. My hands snaked into his hair as I sank down, bringing me closer, seeking the pleasure of more friction. More pressure. The stubble on his chin was rough and delicious as it rubbed me with the precision of a lightning bolt.

His hands gripped my waist as he guided me over his mouth, my hips moving back and forth like I was taming a stallion. He moaned, the coarse sound rattling through my bones and scorching my blood.

I moved faster and faster, grinding down against him as I gripped the edge of the sofa to keep my balance.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Ride me, little Princess. Come apart for me.” I did as he asked, using him for my pleasure as his tongue thrust inside me and my clit stroked against his face, the sensation winding me up tighter and tighter. I cried out, tossing my head back, the tendrils of my hair tickling my back. This was the most intense pleasure I’d ever experienced.

Wicked made a sound that was part groan and part growl as I tore apart with a scream. He held on to my hips, dragging me across his mouth as I surged through my climax. One of my hands gripped in his hair, the other hung onto the sofa so tight my knuckles were white.

When the waves of the aftershock subsided, Wicked flipped me off him and sat with his back to the sofa. Pulling me over him, my hips straddled his. I grabbed his shoulders as I slid myself along the length of his hard heat that pressed between my thighs. He moaned, his eyes closing for a moment, his large hands clamping on my hips.

Gripping him with my hand, I lifted myself higher, fit the head to my entrance, and slowly eased myself down. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Gods, you’re so tight. You feel amazing.” Still guiding my hips with his hands, he slid me higher and then thrust his hips, his cock spearing into me.

I gasped at the sensation. The ache and the stretch and gods, this was the most exquisite bliss. He did it again, the veins on his neck standing out as he seemed to be trying to clamp down on himself. But I didn’t want him to restrain anything or hold back. I wanted everything.

“Let go,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his.

I dragged my nails down his chest and up his arms, skimming over his biceps and the swell of his shoulders. Gripping his face in my hands, I pressed my thumbs into his bottom lip as I rocked my hips, our cries growing frantic as he thrust into me over and over.

He bit the tip of my thumb, sucking it into his mouth while he ground me down hard against him. His head dipped where he took my nipple in his mouth, biting down as one hand squeezed the flesh of my ass and the other reached between my legs, where he stroked my clit.

Warm tension spread out over my body as we moved together, our moans and cries backdropped only by the crackle of the hearth. A moment later, I shattered again, crying out, my release washing over me in wave after wave. Wicked grunted low in his chest and then flipped me over, pushing me to the floor, one hand coming under my knee as he drove into me deeper. I hung on to his shoulders, his mouth crashing into mine, his tongue and his cock both thrusting into me with unleashed abandon.

He moved faster and faster, his movements becoming erratic, until he let out a moan that seemed to shake the ground as a shudder rippled over his body. “Rowan,” he gasped. “Oh fuck, Princess.” He stopped, his eyes shuttered for a moment as if he needed a second to gather himself. Then he lay on top of me, his warm skin silky with a sheen of sweat. I ran my hands over his back, savoring the hard planes of muscle as he slowed his movements.

When he’d recovered, he let out a low groan and kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. He rolled off me, landing on the blankets and tucking me in next to him, one hand trailing up my side, and the other tracing the lines of my face as he stared at me.

“That was incredible,” he said. “I haven’t felt like that in so long.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s been like a hundred years,” I joked and he grinned.

“I assure you that isn’t the case, Princess.” He lowered his head and kissed me again, peering at me with sincerity. “I haven’t felt like that ever.”

Immediately, my hunger for him stirred, and I hitched my leg over his hips as he drew me in. He was hard again, and his chest rumbled in satisfaction as I gripped his cock in my hand.

“You mentioned something about my mouth earlier?” I asked innocently, blinking up at him with the beguiling expression of a disobedient angel. His smile hooked up at the corner, his eyes gleaming with delight.

“If you spoil me like this, I might reconsider bringing you home, after all.”

I pushed him back and straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss his chest and then his stomach before I peered up at him with a wink.

“I guess that’s a chance I’ll just have to take.”

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Chapter Seventeen

We waited out the storm for several more days, the snow blowing fiercely. Wicked checked our food stores, his brow furrowing in worry. “If we can’t get to the village soon, we’ll have to start rationing,” he said. He walked to the window and peered outside. “This can’t last much longer.”

“Hmm, mmm,” I murmured from the bed, not really caring. We’d spent almost every waking moment of the past days reveling in the taste and touch and smells of each other. Wicked had me in every way I could think of and some I’d had no idea were possible. I was an entirely new woman, my muscles jelly and my legs liquid.

He looked at me with fondness, a small smile on his face. “How are you feeling, Princess?”

“Lonely,” I said, pulling up the covers and gesturing him over. He grinned and took me up on my offer, snuggling in next to me.

It took another day before the wind finally died down. Wicked went outside immediately and came back to report the worst of the storm was over. “I’m going to shovel the pass so we can get you home. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He didn’t wait for me to respond as he slammed the door behind him without another glance.

I stared at the door, my heart thumping in my chest. Was he still so eager to get rid of me? I tried not to let it bother me. I didn’t belong here. I was supposed to go home and live the life that had been planned for me. This had been a brief, if rather enjoyable interlude, even if it hadn’t started out that way.

As promised, he returned a few hours later, his cheeks red from the cold and exertion of digging out the snow.

“It wasn’t as high as I expected it to be,” he said. “We can go today. Get dressed. I’ll carry your things.”

He started picking up my scattered clothing and stuffing them into the bag he’d retrieved for me all those weeks ago, not looking my way. Slowly, I followed suit as he traipsed about the room with purpose. He couldn’t seem to move fast enough as he haphazardly stuffed everything in and then scanned the small area, looking for anything he might have missed.

I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling small and forgotten and used. His expression was dark and furious.

“Wicked,” I said. “I could stay and—”

“No,” he cut me off, his eyes flashing. “You can’t stay here any longer. I should never have brought you out here. This was all a mistake.”

“But what about...this?” I gestured between us to encompass all that we’d shared the past few days. He’d made me feel beautiful and wanted and cherished. He’d told me I was brave and clever and that I reminded him of what it felt like to be alive. Had it all been a lie?

“We were just passing the time, Rowan. It was nice, but it’s time for you to go.” Those words punched a raw gaping hole right through my chest, my stomach clenching.

“It was nice?” I asked, hearing the lock on yet another future I’d imagined clicking shut. “Nice?”

“Yes,” he replied, his mask of indifference held in place.

“You said you’d never had it so good,” I whispered. “You told me it was amazing.” Rifts formed in my heart, the cracks spreading out as his expression remained stoic.

“It’s time to go,” was all he said as he headed for the door, grabbed my cloak and held it out to me. “You belong with your family. Not out here with the monsters.”

I took the cloak and wrapped it over my shoulders, hating this. Hating that I’d let him nourish me like a parched desert plain and now, with one fell swoop, he’d swept a hand and washed it all away. I wasn’t entirely sure what to name this feeling. All I knew was his cold indifference threatened to dissolve me into nothing.

Once I was dressed, we headed outside.

The world was covered in a blanket of sparkling white; the snow crunching beneath our feet as we headed for the pass and the doorway back to a life I thought I’d lost. One I was no longer sure I wanted.

We approached the narrow opening, the sky overhead grey and cloudless. The air was cold and damp, and I shivered the entire way, partly from the chill and partly from the pieces of my spirit crumbling away.

Wicked walked ahead of me, his steps full of purpose. We didn’t speak and while we drew closer to the castle, my stomach tied into knots formed from threads pulling in a thousand directions. I wanted to see Margaret and my parents, and even Ellis. But this forest and its secrets had filtered into my veins and rooted me to the earth.

When we arrived at the gates of my home, there was a shout as the guards registered my presence. Ellis flew out of the castle, followed closely by Margaret and my mother and father.

“Rowan!” He wrapped his strong arms around me and swung me around. Placing me back on the ground, his hands went to my face as he peered at me. “Are you okay?” I nodded as my family enveloped me from every side, shielding me in the cocoon of their love.

“We’ve been searching for you for weeks,” my father said. “There was no trace of you after that beast came back.” He spat the words out like they were bitter orange peels.

“I haven’t found a way to break the decree,” Ellis said. “I’ve had the overseers working around the clock, but it’s ironclad. I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

“It’s okay,” I said quietly, my heart bearing the crushing weight of all my sorrows. “There’s no need. He let me go.”

“He did?” my mother asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, thank the gods. You’re home, and you can get married and Rowan, I’m so happy you’re home.” She wrapped me in a fierce embrace, as everyone collectively mistook the reason for my tears.

I pulled away to say goodbye to Wicked, but when I turned around, he was already gone.

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Chapter Eighteen

“Come inside,” my mother said as Ellis grabbed my bag where it lay on the ground, abandoned by Wicked. I felt just like that shapeless sack spilling out on the snow.

She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and touched my cheek. “Did he hurt you? Did he—” she cut off, casting a side glance to Ellis and my father as if the question was too ghastly to ask in their delicate male presence.

“No. It wasn’t like that. I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” At least not physically, I didn’t add, the pit in my chest throbbing.

We went inside, the scents of the kitchens and the warmth of the lit hearths enveloping me in a familiar embrace. My mother held my hand the entire way up to my room, where a hot bath was being drawn.

I went through the motions, bathing, eating, and readying myself for bed. As the sun fell, I cast a look out my window, yearning for a small, shabby room in the heart of a broken-down castle.

Wicked would be cooking for me right now, something hearty and nourishing. When we were done, he’d pull me onto his lap and kiss me and touch me in a way that made my eyelashes flutter and my chest fill with light. When Ellis bid me good night and told me we’d resume preparations for the wedding, I feared no one would ever make me feel that way again.

“That sounds wonderful. I’m so happy,” I said to him, our hands clasped as I swallowed the sour bite of the lies that tripped off my tongue.

For weeks, I moved about the castle like a ghost seeking its final resting place while preparations for the wedding drew into full swing. At night, I’d lie awake staring at the ceiling, my opulent bed the last place I wanted to sleep.

It was the night before I was to be wed when I slid out from the covers, pulled on my lush velvet robe, and sat by the window, peering into the shadows of the forest.

The moon was high; the snow reflecting a luminous glow against the sky.

A movement in the trees caught my attention. With my nose nearly pressed to the glass, I watched it. I knew that shape. The breadth of those shoulders and the cadence of those steps. My breath kicked up, striking me in the chest.

I didn’t stop to think. I stuffed my feet into my boots and then pulled on my cloak and sprinted through the castle. A numbing blast of cold greeted me when I emerged into the night and headed for the spot where I’d seen him.

My breath fogged in the air as I ran, my boots thudding heavily with the pounding of my heart.

“Wicked! Where are you?” Gasps sawing through my chest, I searched the shadows. “I know you’re out here.” I directed a look back at the castle. Sentinels would be keeping watch over the grounds. If I remained in sight, wearing my nightgown, and shouting into the forest, someone would alert the king, eventually. “I saw you!”

I plunged deeper into the trees, the darkness closing around me like a fist. “Please. Wicked.”

Finally, a form melted from the gloom, taking the shape of my desire. He wore his great fur cloak, his hair loose and blowing in the breeze. He was beautiful and brutal, and the sight of him sliced through every layer of feigned emotion I’d been building.

“Go back inside, Rowan.” His voice bore the texture of smoke and secrets. He came closer, moonlight reflecting off his strong jaw and high cheekbones. His dark eyes flashed, his mouth set into a grim line. “That’s where you belong.”

“What are you doing out here?” I pulled my cloak tighter, my teeth chattering. My feet were bare inside my boots, and the cold seeped in from the earth.

“Nothing.” His face was tense as his gaze darted to the sentries posted on the battlements. I rolled my eyes.

“You’re obviously lying.” I stepped closer, only inches separating us. My body drew closer to his like the sky pulling on the stars. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Wicked stepped back, putting distance between us. Refusing to let it hurt, I took a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

“Go back inside, Princess.”

“Tell me why you threw me out. Why you wanted to be rid of me so quickly after everything we shared? That meant something to me. Did it mean nothing to you?” My voice cracked, pain bleeding out between the syllables.

His jaw clenched, his eyes blazing. “No. It meant nothing.” I swallowed as the burn of his words traveled down my throat and squatted in my gut. “Go back inside, Princess.”

“No,” I said, sure I detected the same flavor of the lies I’d been telling myself for weeks. Sure he hadn’t been faking everything he’d said and done. “I won’t go back inside until you talk to me.”

“Then I’m leaving,” he said, turning his back and stalking into the forest.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily!” He didn’t stop, walking deeper and deeper into the woods as I trailed him like a persistent shadow. “Come back here!”

Finally, he stopped and whirled so quickly I crashed straight into his bulk and nearly toppled over. “Go back home,” he snarled, his teeth gritted. But it wasn’t fury in his eyes. It was panic and fear and an unmistakable tremor of longing.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me!”

“Go home!” he roared. “Why do you insist on bothering me?”

His words were intended to be a slap, but I countered back, prodding at the tender places he refused to acknowledge.

“Because I love you, you asshole!” The declaration was a gauntlet thrown. One I hadn’t even realized I’d been clutching. “I’m going to help you capture that ogre, and I’ll carve out its heart myself.” I stepped closer, my hands fisting into the thick collar of his cloak. “And if that beast dies before I can do that, then I’ll stay in this forest with you forever. Do I make myself clear?”

Wicked’s eyes darkened, his pupils flaring into dark black pits of nothing, and he let out a whoosh of air like I’d lifted up my foot and kicked him straight in the stomach. He seemed to bend in on himself as he folded, when a noise in the leaves summoned our attention.

A bulk moved toward us, shadowed by the darkness. It was huge—even taller than Wicked and built like a barrel with arms and legs. Dark green skin glistening in the moonlight, its back was hunched and its hands were the size of church bells. It didn’t look like it could move very fast, but it was probably best not to underestimate it.

“Fuck,” Wicked said, shoving me behind him as he drew his sword. “Run back to the Castle, Rowan. Now.” He snarled at the ogre as it lumbered closer, its beady black eyes glittering.

I remembered what Wicked had told me. That the ogre would be mindless with want for my blood. Maybe we could use that to our advantage. “I’m going to draw it away from you, and you attack it from behind. It’ll follow me. You said it wouldn’t be able to resist.”

He looked back at me, his expression thunderous. “No. Absolutely not.”

“On the count of three,” I said, gripping the back of his cloak, digging in my heels and preparing to run.

“Rowan, no!”

“Three...two...”

“I swear to the gods, I’m going to lock you back in my cage if you do this.”

“One!” I bolted, the ogre’s head swinging my way as I ran as fast as I could. I heard Wicked yelling after me but didn’t look back as I wove through the dense trees, hearing the rustle and snapping of branches. After everything, I trusted him. I knew Wicked would do anything to protect me. And if he failed, then there was no point to this life without him.

I didn’t need to see to know the ogre was right behind me. I could feel its hot, fetid breath on the back of my neck right before a hand snagged the back of my cloak, tearing it from my shoulders. When the clasp pinched the delicate skin on my throat, I cried out, but I didn't stop running.

My feet crunched in the snow, branches snagging on my nightgown, the icy air whipping through the fabric and tearing at my hair. “Wicked!” I screamed, sure he had to be close.

The ogre lunged, an arm banding around my waist before it lifted me in the air, and I belted out an ear-piercing scream. I kicked and flailed, trying to land a solid blow somewhere it might matter. But the ogre was steel and sinew, and it squeezed me so tight, I couldn’t suck air into my lungs.

I struggled against its hold, my vision darkening when I heard a crunch, followed by a sickening squelch, and then the ogre’s hold slackened before we both collapsed into a heap on the ground. I screamed and tried to get the monster off me, its weight crushing me to the earth.

A moment later, Wicked was at my side. With a heave, he lifted the body of the beast enough that I could slip out and back away. Wicked’s sword stuck out of its back, like an offering to the sky.

“You killed it,” I said, my eyes wide with wonder and fear.

Wicked’s eyes floated shut, and he let out a sigh so long it sounded like he’d been keeping it bound for centuries. He seemed to be in shock as he moved, pulling out the sword and then flipping the ogre on to its back. Its eyes were dull, staring at the starry sky.

He pulled out his dagger and leaned over the beast before he paused, contemplating it.

“Do you want me to do it?” I asked, knowing he needed the heart. I didn’t want to slice it out, but I had sworn I would just a few minutes earlier. He shook his head, and I tried not to show my relief as he dropped to a knee and executed the grisly task.

Pulling out a cloth from his cloak, he extracted the glistening heart from the ogre’s chest and wrapped it up.

“Now what?”

“I need to eat it,” he said, and I wrinkled my nose.

“Wow, your brother really hated you.” Neither of us smiled at my failed attempt to lighten the mood as our gazes met.

“I need to get back to the castle.”

“I’ll come with you.” I stalked back through the forest, finding my discarded cloak and wrapping it over my shoulders. He seemed like he wanted to argue, but I held up a hand. “I’m coming. Don’t even bother trying to stop me.”

He pressed his mouth together, grunting in response. “Get on my back and hold tight.” He bent down so I could do as he asked and then, without another word, we raced into the night.

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