Текст книги "Alien god"

Автор книги: Ursa Dox

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“Wylf,” I keened between sobs, “I need... I need...”

One of his hands dug beneath my dress, slipping along my groin until his thumb met my throbbing clit. He rubbed it in merciless circles, sliding through the wetness of my arousal as white-hot sensation expanded along the base of my spine. His thumb was as brutal as his cock, which left me wildly disoriented when his half-whispered, half-moaned words filtered into my brain.

“Little bride, beautiful little bride. Cursed stars, you don’t know how I’ve wanted you.”

My eyes fluttered closed as I completely gave myself over to him. I let the tension sag out of my legs, relying only on him to hold me up as he fucked me. I collapsed onto his chest, my forehead in the crook of his neck.

“Beautiful bride, Torrance, beloved, I-”

His words broke off in a snarl. I felt him throb inside, felt him explode, felt the groan that ripped out of him deep in my body. He pumped hard, the rock of his hips timed to every pulse and spurt. His mouth was open against my cheek as he swore, or maybe beseeched, “Save me.”

I’d heard the phrase before. The full saying was, Sionnach save me, an emotionally charged version of the more common saying, Sionnach preserve me. But he hadn’t managed all the words.

It sounded like he was asking me to save him. And I fucking wanted to. Wanted to save him from me and from himself.

But he wouldn’t let me.

I knew it, knew that he wouldn’t let me as I found release, every nerve winding up tight then whirling like tops let loose on a table. My muscles finally gained traction against him, clamping down with a vengeance, sealing him inside. The movement of his hips became less blindingly urgent and more sensual, languid, rolling endlessly, drawing out my orgasm until I cried again, but this time with pleasure.

Soon, everything slowed, until the only movement was the sleigh gliding along. Steadying my breathing and my shaking limbs, I lifted myself until Wylfrael slipped out. I pushed off of him, falling heavily onto the bench beside him, my skirt snagging on broken crystal.

“Torrance-”

“We should go back,” I interrupted.

But even as he turned the sleigh around, I knew that we couldn’t.

Not really.

Not anymore.

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CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR Wylfrael

Torrance didn’t speak on the ride back. She rested her elbow on the side of the sleigh, her chin perched upon her hand, watching the trees go by while I watched her. I thought that I should touch her, but she didn’t seem to want that now. I thought that I should say something, but did not know what.

We arrived at Barra’s enclosure in silence. I detached the sontanna from the sleigh, then helped Torrance down. I would have held her hand the entire walk back to the castle, but she pulled hers from mine as soon as her boots hit the snow.

We said nothing as we walked through the tunnel and climbed stairs together up to our bed chamber. Torrance hung her cloak by the fire instead of handing it to me to do it, and the cool independence in that gesture wounded me more than I wanted to admit. My wings pulsed as I watched her, her back to me, staring into the fire. Finally, her spine straightened, and she turned to face me.

Her face was pale and composed, smoothed of all the agony, all the need, I’d witnessed outside. She seemed a stranger to me now, like I had not just been deep inside her.

“It’s tradition not to spend the night before the wedding in the same room.”

“That’s convenient,” I snapped, irritation prickling. And not just irritation. Fear. Fear that she wouldn’t go through with this after all. That I could take everything away from her, leave no one and nothing else in her path but me, and that still she would not choose me. I was afraid she was lying, that there was no tradition, and that this was the first of many steps she’d take that would lead her away from me.

Don’t marry me, she’d said. She was looking for an out, masking cowardice as care for me, for my future.

“Convenient or not, it’s the truth,” Torrance said placidly. “I can go to another room if you want to sleep here.”

“No!” The word was a roar. It cracked her composure, making her flinch back. I smashed the distance between us with powerful strides, coming to a stop before her. I didn’t touch her with my hands, but my chest brushed hers on my wildly unsteady inhales. She’d mostly fixed her dress but hadn’t tied the laces all the way, revealing lush skin, skin I’d sucked and kissed and worshipped. She’d been so close! She’d given herself to me, and now, and now...

“I don’t believe you,” I hissed.

She turned her chin up, stared at me with those snow and honey eyes that got all the way inside me.

“I’m not a liar,” she said.

“That’s exactly what you are,” I reminded her viciously. “And like it or not, little bride, you’re my liar now.”

Her calm was torn asunder. She looked stricken, like I’d hit her, and I hated myself even while rejoicing in darkness that I’d finally broken back through to her.

“You’re right. I can’t even deny it, because you’re right,” she said quietly. She crossed her arms and turned around, putting her back to me again, staring at the firestone. “You’re supposed to marry someone who makes you better, but I swear that you’re making me worse.”

“And you make me weak!” I snarled. “So, I suppose, in this, we are even.”

Silence stretched between us until I finally could not stand it.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Say no. Call me Wylf again and say you want me.

She did not answer.

I turned around and left.

I thought about leaving the castle entirely but didn’t. I had something to finish before the wedding. It seemed a fool’s errand now. Something born out of ridiculous sentimentality. But I could not seem to abandon the task.

Torrance had told me once, the night we’d struck our bargain, that you did not tell someone to marry you, but that you gave them a ring and asked. The idea of asking her now was stupid. We would marry, it had already been decided. She’d agreed, and there was no going back now, no matter how she tried to pull away.

But the ring...

The ring had been something I could not get out of my head.

There had been nothing suitable in any of the Sionnachan villages I’d visited, so I’d resolved to make my own. I’d already crafted and discarded dozens of the things, none of them quite right. But the wedding was tomorrow, and if I was going to finish this, it had to be now.

I stormed down stairs and through the tunnel until I reached a small workshop in the servants’ area of the Day Tower. There was no one here now. Ashken and Shoshen were likely doing chores or completing last-minute wedding preparations while Aiko cooked the evening meal.

This room had an abundance of tools, none of which I used. I didn’t need to carve the crystal – I’d shape it with my own power. What I would use in this room, though, was the crystal itself. There were heaps of it, large shards and bricks in the corners, that I sorted through as I’d done so many times already, trying to find the perfect piece for her. It was probably futile – every ring I’d already made I’d discarded. If I hadn’t destroyed them all in exasperation, I could have brought them all up to her on a tray and let her choose. Brandished the rings before her as an offering when the other things I offered her no longer seemed enough.

But that would not have satisfied me, either. Because none of those rings had been right.

I found several pieces of silver and purple crystal that were admirably clear. I thought of making rings out of each, and seeing if either one of them suited.

But then it hit me – the reason the other rings had not appealed. It was because they were too simple. Each one crafted from only one tree, shining in only one colour.

If there was anything my bride wasn’t, it was simple. Winter and warmth, love and hate, fire and fury and softness and need. Weakness and strength. Lies and masks and truth. If I wanted to represent her and represent our union – Earth and Sionnach, human and stone sky – then I could not simply use a single shard.

Invigorated, I began again, drawing out piece after piece of crystal. I shattered them with my power, picking out tiny, shimmering shards until I had a glittering pile of purple, pink, silver, and green.

I worked all night, designing and moulding and refining. It felt good to throw myself into the task and let my mind go blank. Otherwise, I’d be left to my own thoughts. Thoughts about the vast and sprawling ecstasy of being inside her eclipsed only by how much I’d loved holding her, and then the striking pain of when she’d pulled away.

I was not supposed to feel pain when I thought of my fake bride.

I was supposed to feel nothing at all.

It occurred to me, as I held the ring up to the light, running my appraising gaze over it like a blade over a sharpening stone, that I had not felt grief about losing a chance with my real fated mate in quite some time. Torrance had taken over, fully invaded my life the way her people had invaded my world, so much so that even my pain was solely focused on her now. I thought of my fated mate, tried to imagine who she might be, and attempted to conjure the feelings I’d had when I’d first heard Rúnwebbe’s prophecy.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t reach back into that sorrow and rage. Couldn’t access it or make myself feel it. There was a numbing sort of dread, the feeling that my life had been knocked awfully off course, but I no longer mourned my real bride or my lost future with her. My fated mate was a faceless ghost to me now, but my false bride was here, real, beautiful and infuriating and mortal, so terrifyingly mortal that I wanted to hollow myself out and put her inside me if only it would protect her. I may have called her my liar, but this wasn’t a lie to me. Not anymore. At some point, my prisoner had become my partner, not just an ally but someone precious, someone beloved, Sionnach preserve me, save me, save me.

“My lord?”

I whirled, finding Aiko standing in the doorway. Late morning light I’d barely noticed seeped in through the room’s outer green wall.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice sounding harsh and croaking.

“Your wedding suit is ready.”

My spine straightened, my chin rising, as if I’d been called to battle. I curled the ring into my hand.

“Good. Let me see it.”

I followed Aiko out of the workshop and into the room where she completed the laundry and sewing. On a crystal table, laid flat, was the outfit she’d created for me. My Mistress of Affairs had seemed surprised, some days ago, when I’d asked her to find out from Torrance what human grooms wore to their weddings. I’d been a little surprised at myself, in all honesty. Surprised that I would stoop to the level of wearing what a pathetic human male might wear. But when I’d imagined Torrance’s face, her surprise and maybe even delight at the gesture, I’d found that my usual leather ensembles held no appeal.

I could not deny it. I wanted my bride to be happy when she saw me at our wedding.

Cursed stars. What a fool I have become.

Still keeping the ring safely tucked in one hand, I ran the fingers of my other hand along the fabric. It was all soft, smooth wool, dyed pure black, a suit comprised of a long-sleeved coat of sorts paired with matching trousers. Inside the coat was a crisp white shirt, and a long bit of blue fabric I did not recognize.

“What in the snows of Sionnach is that?” I asked, quirking a brow at the floppy blue silk running down the front of the shirt. A quick tug told me it was not attached to the shirt.

“I hope I got it right,” Aiko said, furrowing her brow. “Torrance said there’s something called a tie that men often wear to their weddings to signify formality.”

“What do you do with it?” I asked, lifting the oddly shaped, long silk piece. It got wider and then pointed at one end, like a sword.

“Apparently it is meant to hang around your neck, with the wide, pointed part aiming downwards.”

“Hmm,” I said, letting the pale blue tie fall back into place. “Thank you, Aiko.”

I draped the entire outfit over my arm. I considered going back to my room to dress – it was my chamber after all, and she was my bride, blast anyone who’d say I shouldn’t go there, shouldn’t see her.

But even while that thought churned in my head, I went back to the workshop, where I dressed alone and in silence.

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CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE Torrance

I didn’t sleep well the night before my wedding. Probably a pretty universal experience for a human woman, when I thought about it, but likely not for the reasons that kept me up. I tossed and turned, thinking about the day to come, and what it meant for both of us. And, the thing that kept me awake most, even though I tried to push it away, was the fact that I missed Wylfrael. I’d wanted him to leave, and I’d wanted even more for him to come back. To sleep beside me as had become our custom. Wylfrael always got up before I did in the morning, but sometimes I woke in the night and found him curled around me, his face buried in my hair, sleeping soundly. I often wondered if the reason he got out of bed before me every day was so that I wouldn’t wake and find him like that.

Aiko brought me breakfast, excitement for the day making her chatty. She talked endlessly about the wedding, how much food they’d prepared, even though no one would be in attendance besides her, Shoshen, and Ashken. She told me that the ceremony would happen late this afternoon and that the feast would be directly afterwards.

She brought my gown in along with my lunch. I poked at the food, my eyes going to the flowing white fabric on the bed until I finally gave up on eating altogether. At least I wasn’t getting drunk on champagne on an empty stomach, like I probably would have on Earth. But champagne is something you celebrate with...

I didn’t feel like celebrating now.

I took my time getting ready, even though there wasn’t much to do. I didn’t have makeup, or styling tools, or hairspray. I knew my eyes were probably puffy and red, so I splashed my face with cold water. I’d had a bath last night and slept with my hair in a braid, and it cascaded around my shoulders in shiny waves. I could tell Aiko was bursting to help me with something, so I beckoned her over with a weak smile. Beaming, she helped me braid two narrow strips at the front of my hair and then tied them at the back, creating a sort of half-up, half-down style I wouldn’t have been able to achieve myself without a mirror.

After that, there was nothing else to do but actually get into the dress. My heart fluttered, batting around like a bird, when I walked towards it on the bed.

It was stunning. Truly, truly stunning. Something I knew would have cost thousands of dollars on Earth. Aiko had obviously listened closely to my first comments about the design and had made endless improvements over our various fitting sessions.

It was strapless, with a sweetheart bodice that flowed outwards into a luxuriously curved skirt, somewhere between an A-line and a ballgown. Aiko was a bit of a perfectionist, I’d learned, as well as an artist. She hadn’t stopped there, with the mere construction of the gown, but had also hand-embroidered the bodice with white silk thread in ethereally curling, twining shapes.

“Aiko, it’s perfect,” I breathed, knowing that she was standing there, practically holding her breath in anticipation of what I’d say. “I can’t believe how beautiful this is. You’re amazing.”

Her tail fluffed up in obvious, anxious pleasure.

“Let’s get it on and see how it fits,” she said, shying away from acknowledging the compliment.

She swept the gown off the bed and held it open for me. I shed the red silk robe I’d been wearing – the one I’d worn the first night Wylfrael had touched me, made me come – and stepped into it. As I did so, I noticed a few tiny stitches and beads sewn carefully inside the bodice. I’d learned enough from Ashken to recognize Sionnachan writing when I saw it, but couldn’t read the words.

“What’s that?” I asked Aiko.

“Oh... I hope you do not mind,” she said as she pulled the dress up around me. She moved in behind my back, doing up laces. “I added that. The words mean, ‘Blessed be the bride.’ I hope it is alright! I know it is not your custom. It is Sionnachan. I just wanted to give something to you, something that was just from me.”

Tears welled up in my eyes.

You will not cry. Not today, not now.

Instead, I turned, making Aiko yip with surprise. The half-done-up gown sagged downwards as I threw my arms around Aiko’s waist.

“Oh, Torrance, the gown! The gown!”

I wanted to tell her not to worry about the gown, that it didn’t matter. But it did matter, because she had made it. Had poured endless hours into the garment, just so that I’d like it. She’d hand-sewn a blessing on the inside.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling back and laughing shakily. “I definitely don’t want to wrinkle your beautiful work. I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.” For the gown. For caring. For being kind when I had no one else.

Aiko smiled and finished doing up the laces at my back. As she worked, I noticed there was still something white on the bed.

“Is that...”

“A veil? Yes! I am not sure if it’s quite right, though. I did my best based on your description.”

A veil. I’d mentioned it in passing to Aiko as a bit of human wedding trivia, not because I’d actually thought about wearing one.

When Aiko was finished doing up the dress, I went over to the bed, the lush, heavy skirt rustling with every step. I picked up the veil, a sheer, weightless rectangle of white silk. It was thin enough that I could see my fingers through it. There was a curving crystal headpiece attached that I could nestle among the two braids Aiko had helped me tie.

Instantly, I knew I’d wear it. It would be a barrier, blurring the world around me. Something to hide me, to protect me, to save me from reality.

“I must go finish preparing the feast for after the ceremony,” Aiko said. “Would you let me see the front of the dress, so I can make sure it is alright?”

“Of course,” I said softly, letting the veil fall back onto the bed. I lifted the skirt, being careful not to step on it, and faced her.

“Oh, Torrance, you are lovely. I’ve never been to a wedding, but I’m sure that you must be the most beautiful bride there ever was!”

“I agree.”

Both Aiko and I jumped and looked towards the door. Wylfrael was draped there, leaning with one arm up against the doorframe, the other down at his side with his fist clenched, as if holding something tightly.

Aiko said something else about the food, something I barely registered, and slipped past Wylfrael, leaving us alone.

I wanted to turn away from him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop staring at him.

He was exactly as I’d pictured him, bulk and power turned svelte by a perfectly-tailored dark suit. He even had the white shirt beneath, and the tie to match his eyes. His hair was smooth and tied-back, his leather boots freshly polished. He was stunning. He literally stunned me, left me still and stupid and breathless, unable to say a word.

Much like the veil, when Aiko had asked about what men wore to weddings in my culture, I’d figured she’d just been asking out of curiosity. Never would I have imagined that Wylfrael would actually agree to wear something like this, something human. I’d pictured him in a suit, but realistically assumed he’d wear his own clothing.

What did it mean, that he was dressed like a human man when he found humans so detestable and weak? Was it meant as some sort of taunt, like a predator turning the skin of its prey into a trophy?

Or was it an olive branch, however wilted and broken? A message meant for me?

When I found myself able to speak, that wasn’t what I asked him. Like an idiot, my voice sounding pathetic, instead, I asked, “Do you like the dress?”

The question had apparently been an invitation into the room. He strode in, his sky-fire eyes never leaving me.

He stopped before me, close enough to overwhelm me with his presence but not close enough to touch, and said, “Yes.”

My reaction to his body so close was instant and inescapable. My breath came quicker, my cheeks feeling warm. The time I’d spent in bed alone, wanting him to hold me even as I wanted him as far away as possible, had become a hard ache inside me. That ache turned sharp, like a blade, as I stood before him.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

I can’t believe after everything that’s happened we’re standing here talking about dresses.

“Yes. It’s perfect,” I said, smoothing my hands over the fitted bodice. Wylfrael’s gaze followed my movements, and his wings twitched, making air swish around me.

“Though, I have no idea what I actually look like in it,” I added. I could tell by feel alone that it fit beautifully, and that would have to be enough.

Wylfrael turned from me to face the nearest section of silver wall. He held up his hand, jaw tightening and eyes narrowing. Confused, my gaze went from him to the wall and then back to him again. He was doing something... Using his power to...

I gasped when I looked at the wall again. Where the rest of the room had a roughly carved, multi-faceted surface, the area Wylfrael focused on was becoming flat. Smooth. Something began to emerge from the wall – an image. Blurry, but growing more distinct every second.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Anyone who does not see you now, in your entirety, will have suffered a great tragedy,” was all he offered in response.

He’s making a mirror.

A few more seconds, and it was done. The wall gleamed, a perfect mirror, reflecting the two of us back out into the room.

I had been right about not being able to handle seeing myself like this. I clapped my hand over my mouth at what I saw. I looked like a bride. A real, actual bride. Like someone from a movie or a magazine. And there was my groom, alien and magnificent, not looking at the knee-weakening beauty of his own reflection but solely focused on mine.

I lowered my hand and forced myself to breathe.

“It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding,” I offered weakly.

“I do not believe in luck,” Wylfrael said.

Normally, I didn’t, either. But at this point, I figured we needed all the help we could get.

“Besides,” Wylfrael said, “I wanted to give you this.”

Before I could see what it was, he lowered himself to the ground. On one knee.

It was a ring. He held it up between us.

“You remembered,” I said, shocked to my core. I’d only said the thing about getting down on one knee with a ring once. I’d never mentioned it again.

“I’ve already told you, Torrance. I remember everything about you. Everything you’ve ever told me.”

I swallowed, my throat feeling thick and hot, and stared at the ring. He held it up carefully between his thumb and forefinger so I could see almost the entire circle of it, even though it was so tiny in his grip. It was crystal, crafted with what looked like dozens, no, hundreds of minuscule shards fitted together, creating a rainbow of cascading fire all along the loop. It wasn’t gold, it wasn’t diamond. And it was more beautiful than anything I ever could have imagined.

“I told myself I would not do this,” Wylf said. “I told myself that the deal was done. That I would give you this ring, but I would not ask. But now... now...” His voice grew deep and raw. “Now I find that I must hear your answer.”

“My answer?”

A nearly imperceptible tremor went through his hand, his finger and thumb twitching against the ring.

“Are you going to go through with it, Torrance? Will you marry me?”

“Would anything change if I didn’t?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” he said. “My life would end the same, whether you marry me or not. I will not find my true mate, and I will go into exile to keep the Sionnachans safe from my mate-madness.”

“I wish you’d tell me why,” I said softly, even though I knew by now he wouldn’t. “Well, if my marrying changes nothing in your life, it changes things in mine,” I reminded him. “It’s part of our deal, remember? Finding my people, and my freedom.”

“No,” Wylfrael bit out. His entire being seemed to thrum with tension, tail fluffed up, wings pulsing, the ring vibrating with the pressure of his shaking arm. “No.”

“No?” I echoed. “What do you mean, no?”

Was he taking it all back? Had he just been pretending this entire time, dangling the things I wanted most in front of me like a toy I couldn’t have?

“I mean that I offer those things freely to you now.” Finally, he stood, as if he couldn’t bear being down on his knee any longer. In a movement that should have been graceful for him but was rough, nearly clumsy, he found his feet and grabbed my hand. He dropped the ring into my palm, then closed my fingers over it.

“Put it on, or don’t. Marry me, or don’t.”

What? What?

My heart slammed as confusion spun inside me, whipped into a frenzy by Wylfrael’s next words.

“I’ll give you everything, Torrance. Everything. Blast the bargain, I’ll still give it all to you. Safety. Your friends. Freedom. Without the council’s help, I can’t guarantee I’ll find the human ship in your lifetime, but I promise you that I’ll search for as long as it takes.”

“But... but the Sionnachans already think...”

“I can figure out a way around that,” Wylfrael grunted. “No other stone sky gods know that I’ve apparently found my mate. They would have found out tomorrow, at the gathering.”

“But... Skalla. Even if you can find him on your own, don’t you need the council to deal with him if he’s still berserk or mate-mad or whatever’s going on with him?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But I’m no longer willing to trap you in order to save him or anyone else.”

He’ll set me free.

He would really do it. I could see it in the hard set of his jaw, his unyielding gaze. He still held my hand, and I held the ring, beautiful and hard, fisting it so tightly I knew it would leave a mark against my palm.

Any sane person would have taken his offer and run. No more being his little wife, no more confusion, no more fights, no more bargains or terms or kisses or loving him even though it didn’t matter, even though it meant nothing in the end...

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice falling to a choked murmur.

“I-” He clamped his teeth together, breathing out between them as if barely stopping himself from saying something he thought he might regret. “I just want you to choose.”

He let go of my hand, and I felt cold without his touch.

“Everything for the ceremony is prepared in the library,” he said, his voice smooth and calm, but firm, like he was making a most sacred promise. “I will go there now and I will wait for you, Torrance. I will wait there for you, at the end of the aisle, for as long as it may take. If you do not come, then I will have my answer.”

Now I was the one who shook, throat closing with tears so that I couldn’t even call his name as he turned away from me and left the room.

I watched the open doorway for a long, long time, then looked at myself in the mirror. As I took in my reflection – my pale face, glistening eyes, my human body wrapped in a dress from another world – I wondered who I was anymore.

And who I’d choose to be.

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