Текст книги "A shadow in the ember"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Текущая страница: 36 (всего у книги 42 страниц)

A heartbeat passed. “More than enough.”

“Good.” Tangled hair fell over my shoulders as I sat up.

He went on alert in an instant as I looked around for something to put on. The clothing was ruined, but at least all I had to do was walk through a door. I started to scoot toward the edge of the bed—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Stopping, I looked over my shoulder. “To my bedchamber?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Why…wouldn’t I?” My heart tumbled. “Or am I supposed to be sent somewhere else? To those cells you referenced?” I stiffened. “If so, can I at least find some clothing you didn’t ruin?”

A strange thing happened then. He seemed to relax. And a faint grin appeared, softening the angles of his features. “Yeah, I did ruin that gown.”

I stared at him, caught between disbelief and a mess of a hundred other emotions. “I’m not sure why you’re smiling about that.”

“It will be a favorite memory for years to come.”

My eyes narrowed on him. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but it’s not like I have a lot of clothes for someone to be tearing them off me.”

His molten silver eyes shifted to me. “You weren’t complaining when I did it,” he purred. “If I recall correctly, you were quite eager to get rid of that gown yourself.”

I was, but that was beside the point. Was he teasing me? Or was he…? My pulse kicked up. He couldn’t be. I dared a quick peek below his waist, and a shock went through me. He was more than just semi-hard and that was…well, that was impressive. Was that a Primal thing? Muscles deep inside me clenched as I lifted my gaze back to his.

His eyes met mine and then lowered. “You are sitting next to me, gloriously naked, and I am intentionally staring.”

“I can see that,” I remarked acidly, annoyed by him… and myself, because I did nothing to shield myself from his stare. I did nothing to stop the fact that I enjoyed that he was staring.

One side of his mouth tipped up again as he drew his teeth—his fangs—over his lips. “My mark on your unmentionables is quite fascinating to me.”

I looked down and sucked in an unsteady breath at the sight of the purplish-pink patch of skin and the two puncture wounds. A bolt of sharp-edged arousal darted through me as I remembered the push of his cock and pull of his mouth. “Pervert,” I tossed out half-heartedly.

“Can’t even argue with that.” He turned his head away. “I’m not putting you in a cell.”

“You’re not?”

“Why would I?” he countered, closing his eyes. “You should rest. So should I. We need to be prepared for whatever comes next.”

Kolis.

I swallowed again, somehow forgetting about that the moment I decided to feed Nyktos.

“Rest means sleeping, Sera, which usually requires that you lay down, unless you’re able to sleep sitting up. I would find that impressive if so,” he said. “But it would also be distracting.”

I opened my mouth and found myself at a loss for words. “You want me to sleep beside you?”

“I want you to rest. If you’re beside me, I don’t have to worry about what you may or may not do.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what he was worried about me doing if I wasn’t here, but being beside him when he was in such a vulnerable state as sleep seemed like the last thing he’d want since he obviously believed that the guilt I felt wasn’t real. That my unwillingness to carry through with my duty was just pretty lies. “Are you not concerned?”

“About?”

Shaking my head, I looked away from him. “Oh, I don’t know. Me attacking you?”

Nyktos chuckled deeply.

My brows flew up. “I’m not sure why you find that suggestion funny.”

“Because it is.”

I didn’t move.

“Go to sleep, liessa.”

That word again—one I knew could no longer mean something beautiful and powerful to him. It couldn’t mean Queen. I would never be his Consort now. A word that was now a mockery. Or worse yet, never meant anything to him.

An unexpected, dark pain flared in my chest at that realization—at how much it bothered me.

Anger exploded as quickly as the hurt did. “You know what?”

He sighed. “What?”

“You can go fuck yourself.” I knew it was a childish thing to say, but whatever. I rose from the indecently large bed, making it to my knees—

Nyktos wasn’t nearly as at ease as I believed. He moved shockingly fast, one arm clamping down on my waist as his other hand curled around my chin from behind, tilting my head back. My heart stuttered at the feel of him against my backside, rigid and throbbing, his breath coasting over my ear. My heart skipped another beat because I knew how easy it would be for him to unleash his anger on me, and yet I felt no fear, only warmth.

His body felt warm.

My eyes widened as I relaxed into his hold. The chest against my shoulders, the hard stomach against my back, and the thick length of him—it was all warm.

“Do you want to know why I find your suggestion funny?” Nyktos asked before I could speak. The arm around my waist shifted, and I felt his fingers on my lower stomach—his warm fingers. “Do you?” he demanded in my silence, his thumb sweeping along my lower lip, and his other fingers inching down to the wide vee of my legs.

“No.” I wet my lips, snagged between the need to point out how he felt and an entirely different, truly inappropriately timed need. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me. You do like to talk.”

His answering chuckle was deep and smoky, rumbling through me as his fingers wandered even lower, skimming the tight bundle of nerves. My hips twitched, and he let out another laugh, this time softer. “You do like my fingers inside you, don’t you?”

The tips of my breasts tightened when he dragged a finger over the sensitive part. This time, my hips jerked. He made a deep, rough sound, his finger sliding through the fresh wave of gathering dampness.

“I think there’s something else you like more than my fingers,” he said softly, parting the swollen flesh. “Isn’t that right?”

I rocked back against him out of reflex, my toes curling as he worked his finger inside me, and the hardness pressed against my ass. “So?” I challenged. His hips moved behind me, against me. “And you know what I think? You forgot what you were going to say.”

“Oh, trust me, liessa, I didn’t forget.” His breath coasted over the side of my neck and the bite mark there. Another bolt of awareness went through me. He continued rocking against me as his finger moved idly in and out of me—as I followed those movements, and with each pass, his cock made its way lower until I felt it bumping against his hand and me. “I was just letting you forget.”

I stilled.

Nyktos shifted then, pressing me down onto my hands and then my forearms and belly. My pulse pounded as his weight came over my back. With one hand still under my chin and the other hand still between my thighs, it forced my head back and my hips arched. His finger still moved as his thumb swirled around the apex, dragging ragged moans from me.

“It’s funny because you cannot hurt me.” That strangely warm breath of his still hovered over the mark on my throat. “You can never weaken me to the point that you’d ever be a real threat.”

My breath caught as the meaning of his words penetrated the haze of arousal. I knew what he was saying. I was no real threat because he would never love me.

And maybe it was the reckless part of me that spurred my words. Maybe it was that hurt in the center of my chest. I turned my head toward him. “You sure about that?”

The sound he made was a cross between a laugh and a growl. Then his head snapped down. I stiffened as I felt the sharp tips of his fangs on my throat, just above the marks already there. He didn’t pierce my skin, though. He just held me there as the—oh, gods—as the heated, hard length of him replaced his finger, pushing in and spreading me once more. The feel of him stole my breath. The utter, absolute dominance in how he held me there with his fangs. The unending press of him filled me with a wicked, wanton flood of heat.

There were no slow, tentative movements now. He fucked me as he pressed his fingers against me, working the bundle of nerves. Each powerful push caused his fangs to scrape my neck, but he didn’t break the skin. Not once. And, gods, I wanted him to, but there was no way for me to seize control as I had the first time. He was in total control this time, and the fighter in me, the shameless part, knew that and submitted.

And it was glorious.

Gods, he…he was a fast learner.

Nyktos’ thrusts were deep and hard, leaving no room for anything but the feel of him. His hips pumped against my backside as he kept me in that position, head tipped back, throat vulnerable, hips arched. And when I felt his thumb pressing against my lips, I opened my mouth and let him in.

And then I bit him hard.

“Fuck,” he grunted against my throat.

A throaty laugh left me as I closed my lips around his thumb, sucking on the flesh I’d bitten. Only a heartbeat later, I realized that I’d drawn blood. My shock over my actions was quickly swept aside by the swirl of tingles across my tongue, and the taste of honey but smokier. It was his blood. Not much, maybe a drop. I swallowed, shuddering at the decadent taste. I should be disturbed by the fact that I’d tasted his blood, but I moaned around his thumb, rocking my hips against him.

His hand came down on my ass in a light smack that sent another sinful burst of pleasure through me. “Very naughty,” he murmured.

Then he took me. He claimed me in a way I hadn’t known I wanted to be claimed. His body pounded into mine, frenzied and raw. Release hit me, sending wave after wave of pulsing and spiraling pleasure through me. I cried out as my head kicked back against his shoulder. His hand finally shifted then, thrusting the mess of curls out of my face as I shook and spasmed. He followed me over the edge with a hoarse shout, his incredibly large body shuddering all around me.

Nyktos held me there, his chest sealed to my back as his head moved. His lips touched my skin, and then I felt the kiss against the mark he’d left there. It was I who shuddered then, and I immediately knew that neither of us would ever be the same again.

Chapter 39

I woke, temples aching slightly and knowing I was alone before I even opened my eyes. It was the absence of his body wrapped around mine. We’d fallen asleep like that, on our sides, my back to his chest, and his arms folded around me.

In the quietness of his chambers, I didn’t know what to think about that—what to think about anything. Things were…well, they were a mess. Everything. From what my ancestors had learned and what was bound to happen to Lasania—all of the mortal realm and eventually Iliseeum—to Nyktos’ father being the real Primal of Life and placing the ember of life in me, the truth of Kolis, and this…this thing between Nyktos and me.

At least he’d fed. Was that why his body had felt warm? Or was it something else? I had no idea. But he apparently had no plans to lock me in a cell.

I’d understand if he did. Who wouldn’t? But I didn’t think I could take that. He was right, though. I was no real threat to him, and that had nothing to do with the pointlessness behind attempting to kill him.

Something cold pierced my chest as I turned my cheek, inhaling his scent. I opened my eyes to the bare walls. What was I going to do now? I couldn’t repair things between Nyktos and me because what was there to repair? I wasn’t even sure the Primal was capable of something like love. And I didn’t know if I was. But I…I wanted his friendship. I wanted his respect. I wanted him to be Ash, and I wanted to be Sera. But that would never happen. I couldn’t save my people.

Or what if I could? What if this ember of life had been placed in me for another reason? But what could it be? And what would happen to those who lived here until we figured it out? There’d be more attacks, and maybe, eventually, Kolis himself would arrive. The King of Gods would come after Nyktos. I had a sickening feeling that he already had in the past. And whether or not Nyktos believed me, I cared about what happened to him—what happened to the people here.

What were my options? Find a way to turn myself over to Kolis? He would kill me, and that would possibly hasten the death of the mortal realm if what Aios said was true. It would only buy the Shadowlands extra time. Maybe. This wasn’t being stuck between a rock and a hard place. This was being crushed by both.

But nothing would come from lying in a bed that wasn’t even mine.

Head aching, I sat up and winced at the tenderness. It had been a while since I had engaged in such activities, and it had never been like that. I looked down, biting my lip at the puckered, puncture wounds on my breast as I gingerly prodded the skin at my throat. It too was tender but not painful. A fine shiver rolled through me as I started to rise, only then noticing the robe laid out at the foot of the bed. I stared at it in disbelief. Nyktos must’ve retrieved it. And I…

I smacked my hands over my face. That hurt. But what hurt worse was his godsdamned thoughtfulness even now. And I had planned to take that kindness and twist it. I had planned to kill him. And it didn’t even seem to matter if I would’ve gone through with it or not. It was the intent that counted.

Wetness gathered behind my tightly closed eyes as tears burned the back of my throat, a sob filling my chest. I will not cry, I told myself. I will not cry. Crying solved nothing. All it would do was make my headache worse. I needed to pull myself together and get up and figure out what the hell to do now. I focused on Sir Holland’s breathing instructions until the pressure behind my eyes lessened, and the burning, choking feeling receded. Then I got up and slipped on the robe. I forced one foot in front of the other, leaving behind Nyktos’ empty, cold chamber that had briefly been full and warm.

I had just stepped out of my bathing chamber after making quick use of it when Paxton knocked on the door. The young man stood beside several pails of steaming water, his head bowed so his sheet of blond hair hid most of his face. “His Highness thought you might enjoy a warm bath,” he said, hands clasped together. “So, I brought up hot water.”

Surprised by the gesture for a multitude of reasons, and unsure of how Nyktos had known that I’d returned to my chamber, I almost needed to smack my hands over my face again. I didn’t. Instead, I opened the door wider.

“That was very kind of him—and you, to bring all of these up here.”

“He carried most,” Paxton said, and my brows lifted as I popped my head out the door. The hall was empty. The young man peeked at me, and I caught a glimpse of deep brown eyes. “He had to go to court, Your Highness.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” I replied before I could remember what Bele had instructed.

“You will be his Consort. That is how I should refer to you.”

My throat dried. Paxton obviously hadn’t heard. What would he tell the people here?

Paxton’s chin went up a notch. “And you are a Princess, right? That’s what Aios told me.”

“I am.” A wry grin tugged at my lips despite everything. “But only for one percent of my life.”

That drew a quick, curious glance from Paxton as he picked up two pails. “You were born a Princess?”

“Yes.” I reached for one of the pails.

“Then you’re a Princess for a hundred percent of your life,” he said. “And I got the pails. You don’t have to carry them.”

“I can carry them.”

“I’ve got them.” He eased past me, carrying the pails to the bathing chamber. He was careful to keep the buckets level and unaffected by his limp.

It was hard to just stand there and do nothing when I had two functioning arms. “How about I just pick up one, then?”

“I’d rather you not.”

I already had the pail in hand. His sigh when he looked up and spotted me was quite impressive. “How long have you lived here, Paxton?” I asked, changing the subject.

“For the last ten years,” he answered, his grip on the pail quite steady for such small arms. “Since I was about five. Before that, I lived in Irelone.”

So, he was fifteen. I turned as he hurried back into the hall to grab two more. “Is your family here?”

“No, Your Highness.” He passed me, leaving two more buckets in the hall. I resisted the urge to grab both and only picked up one. “My ma and pa died when I was a babe.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I joined him in the bathing chamber, where he took the water from me and proceeded to pour it into the tub.

“I don’t even remember them, but thank you anyway.” He disappeared back into the hall, returning quickly with the final bucket.

“How did you end up here?” I asked.

“My uncle wasn’t so keen on having another mouth to feed, so I was on the streets, lifting coins when I could.” Paxton poured the water into the tub. “I saw a man in a finely cut cloak and thought he’d be a good mark.” He straightened. “Turned out to be His Highness.”

I blinked. “You…you pickpocketed the Primal of Death?”

Paxton peeked through his hair. “I tried.”

I stared at him. “I don’t know if I should laugh or applaud you.”

A brief grin appeared as he began picking up the empty buckets. “His Highness had roughly the same reaction. In my defense, I didn’t realize who he was.”

“So, he brought you back here?”

“I think he took one look at me and felt sorry.” Paxton shrugged, empty pails swaying. “I’ve been living with the Karpovs ever since.”

I had no idea who the Karpovs were, and I had a feeling there was a whole lot more to the adventure that’d led the orphan boy to the Shadowlands. I also thought about how the entirety of the mortal realm would be shocked to learn that the Primal of Death was far more generous and forgiving than the vast majority of humanity, who would’ve likely turned the young pickpocket over to the authorities.

Which was as surprising as it was disheartening.

“I heard about you, you know?” Paxton said, drawing me from my musings.

Tension poured into my body, causing the pain in my head to flare. “About what?”

“What you did last night—out on the Rise,” he said, and a tiny bit of relief seeped into me. “Everyone’s been talking about how the mortal Consort was up there, shooting arrows and killing those beasts.” Something akin to approval filled his wide eyes, but the relief was short-lived. “We will be proud to call you our Consort.”

 Paxton hastily bowed and left, closing the doors behind him as I stood there, hating myself a little more.

“Ugh,” I muttered. “I’m the worst.”

Tired, I wandered back into the bathing chamber and rummaged through the bottles and baskets on the shelves. I picked up a white compressed ball of salts that carried a citrusy scent that reminded me of Nyktos, inhaling the tarty notes of bergamot and mandarin. Lowering the ball into the water, I watched it immediately fizz, spreading foamy bubbles across the surface of the tub.

Rising, I quickly glanced at the mirror. The bite on my neck wasn’t visible through the clumps of curls. I turned, shrugging off the robe and hanging it on the hook inside the wardrobe. I placed a fluffy towel on the stool and took a moment to twist the length of my hair up, shoving a half-dozen pins into it to keep it dry. There was no way I had the energy to deal with wet hair. Air hissed between my teeth as I stepped into the warm water and sank down. Muscles I didn’t even realize were tense and sore immediately loosened. Knees bent, breaking the surface of the water, I wiggled down and let my head rest on the rim of the tub. I was a lot more tired than I realized, and I didn’t know if it was because of Nyktos’ feeding or everything else. Probably all of it.

My eyes drifted shut, and I let my thoughts wander as the heat of the water, the comforting scent, and the silence eased the ache in my head, lulling me. I felt myself drifting to sleep.

A distant, soft thud invaded the tranquility, pulling me from the blissful nothingness. I pushed against the foot of the tub, scooting up as I pried open my eyes—

There was a flash of black. That was all. A glimpse of something thin and dark coming down in front of my face. I shoved my arm up out of reflex. The strip caught and jerked me back, my fingers snagging as he pulled the material tight around my throat.