Chapter 34 #3
“I would have given you children, had you wanted mine,” Estevan said, voice deep and coarse and uncharacteristically gentle. “A girl with your hair, and a boy with your eyes.”
Deep somewhere in the back of her mind, Semras heard herself gasp softly.
His fingers played with a stray strand of her hair.
“I would have wandered no more for you. I would have been faithful.” Then he gently took her hand and kissed her palm, gaze fixed on the blush tinting her cheeks.
“I would have stayed by your side and given you all that I am. All of me.” Estevan brought her hand to rest over his heart.
His voice, his eyes, his touch—he mesmerized her. Nothing mattered now but the beating of the heart beneath her fingers.
Her breath hitched dangerously close to a sob. “… What use do I have of your ‘would have’?” she asked. “Do you enjoy tormenting me?”
“It is you who torment me, Semras. You made me twice an oathbreaker. Everything I ever swore, I broke because of you. For you.” His hands returned to her face and wiped down the tears that had spilled there.
She hadn’t noticed them falling as quietly as they did.
“And I must break this vow too,” he continued, voice filled with longing. “I have no greater regret than this in this life of mine, but you will not mourn me; you will only mourn this dream I stole from you.”
A violent shiver shook her. “How can you be so cruel as to say all this to me in the same breath you speak of your death?” Semras wiped more of her tears away. “Stop speaking of throwing your life away so carelessly!” Her heart wept with each beat it took.
“Do you know why I can?” he asked, eyes searching her own. “Why it is so easy for me to let go? You must already know—if I die, I will die happier than if I kept on living.”
Semras closed her eyelids bitterly. His words were a burden thrust upon her with no mercy. He had always been cruel.
Estevan buried his face in the crook of her neck.
The coward couldn’t even look at her. “In death, I will never shadow your doorstep ever again,” he murmured.
“I will never hurt you again. You will be free of me. You told me you wished we had never met, and death … death is the only way I could ever grant you that.” He raised his head again.
His eyes were now filled with a deep, hopeless yearning.
“I am not the kind man you wanted. In my greed, I wish to have all of you. I could never stay away, not even if you demanded it. I am … I am cruel, I know it. Even now, I wish my words could hurt you as much as you have hurt me.”
He meant to die for her—sincerely meant it. Because it would save their kin. Because he thought it would save her from him.
He loved her, she realized belatedly. He loved her.
He had for a long time now, and she …
“I hate you,” she breathed.
“I know.”
“You lied to me. From the very moment you walked through my door, you only intended to manipulate me. You used me.”
“I did,” Estevan said quietly.
“You infuriate me, enrage me, mock me. All the words you speak are ones of deceits and taunts.”
“They were.”
She exhaled softly. “But no more.”
Twisting his lips into a semblance of a smile, he beheld her. “No more,” he confirmed.
“And now that you’ve cast all your lies away, you think I will spurn you? When I loved you at your worst?”
Wide-eyed, Estevan stared at her, his face frozen in the hesitancy that preceded hope. As if he had heard her wrong. As if believing her words would shatter a dream he did not want to wake up from.
She drank it all in. She deserved it—and him. All of him.
All hers.
“Semras … you …” he murmured, blanching, “… you cannot do this to me. I-I have made my peace with death. I yearned for you, for your love and touch and attention and—and—Void take me! Against my better judgment, against my own duty, I still do!” Betraying his words, his hands rose to her waist, craving to drag her into his arms. Pinned near Estevan’s heart, the Elumenra insignia flashed gold under the light of the fireplace.
“You cannot give me what I desire so desperately. Not now! Not after I gave it up! This is cruel—”
Semras ripped the insignia off of his cloak and threw it aside. It clanged against the floor once, twice, and then stopped as its metallic glint faded into a dark corner of the room.
Mouth agape, the inquisitor stared at it. Semras seized his jaw, turned his attention toward her, and kissed his despair away.
Estevan froze against her lips. Self-doubt filled her heart, and she began to pull back.
His arms chased her, embraced her, drew her closer. He kissed her back, tentatively at first, and then with the madness of a starving man, stealing all he could from her lips and lungs.
Heart racing in her chest, she broke their kiss to catch her breath. “I am cruel, yes. So are you,” she said, brushing her lips against his. “We cannot change what we are. So be greedy. Be cruel. Be mine.”
Estevan’s throat bobbed; then he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, and she lifted her chin. Wasting no time, his mouth fell on her exposed throat, ravaging it with the strength of his affection.
Semras rewarded him with a soft, delighted sigh.
“If you leave me, I will pursue you,” Estevan said, nipping at her neck. “You will never be rid of me.”
His lips left her gasping. Semras kissed him again, and he greedily chased her for more.
She held onto him while he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up to pin her against the nearest wall, devouring her neck with kisses and bites moved by divine fervour.
Hands that were hers or his fumbled and ripped through their clothes.
The small table fell. Cups shattered on the floor.
The only thing that mattered was him on her—his hands sliding down her waist, his mouth on her breasts, his touch spreading her legs, his fingers thrusting into her core. In and out and in, and—oh.
Her eyes rolled back; her mouth opened in a silent plea. Estevan heard it in the hands that clung to his back, in the nails that begged him for more, in the writhing of her body against his.
Then there was all of him in her, and nothing separated them anymore.
“Forget your Lord,” Semras moaned between gasps—he drew so many out of her. “Forget your duty.”
Hands and lips explored every part of her. His teeth left marks of devotion along her skin. Brands of possession. Prayers of desire. Supplications. Each kiss, a promise he would fulfill.
“Now,” the witch breathed, “you worship me.”
He did.