Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
My eyes jolted open as if someone screamed my name, my heart smacking against my ribs. Darting around, my sight adjusted to the dark room, a sliver of moonlight streaming in from the window. The silence in the cabin echoed in the dead of night.
Restless, my muscles ached to move, an unexplainable need to get up spread through my limbs.
Propping up on my elbow, I peeked over at the huge figure lying next to me.
Warwick was naked, sprawled out on his back, arm tucked under his head, one leg butterflied, only a sheet covering his lower half, his face relaxed in sleep.
Nibbling my lip, the need to climb on him, waking him up with my body, with my mouth, and take all this unsettled energy out on him almost triumphed.
He had made sure I had fallen asleep absolutely boneless, claiming me on Killian’s bed like he wanted our scent and moans to mark this room forever, making the fae lord very aware of who had me.
The frame creaked as I slowly slid off the enormous bed, the pads of my feet touching the soft fake fur rug.
It might be a cabin, but Killian still made sure it was fit for a lord.
It was simply decorated with only a king bed, nightstands, dresser, and small walk-in closet, but the textiles, chandelier, and unique carved wood furniture were top-notch.
Grabbing Warwick’s discarded shirt from the floor, I pulled it over my head, the hem reaching my thighs, before finding a robe and slippers of Killian’s hanging on the hook next to the ensuite bathroom.
Sneaking down the hallway, I pretended to be heading for the kitchen to get a snack, but both my mind and gut knew where I was headed.
Pausing at the back door, I tried to deny it, willing myself to turn around and climb back into bed with Warwick.
It was pointless. The draw continued to pull me to the door and out.
Fog misted the damp ground, rolling and coiling through the trees, and the dense wet air filled my lungs and nipped at my skin as I stepped outside.
Stars shone brightly, and only a few clouds rolled across the moon, leaving the night fresh and cool.
Step by step, I proceeded closer to the firepit.
The thump in my ears grew louder. My fingers wiggled with the need to touch it, to feel the power in my hands, to have that piece of me back.
The connection to it was intense, almost hard to define.
It was akin to a witch’s familiar, an extension of myself, a bond no one else could possibly understand.
It protected me, saved me, and completed me.
When the wall fell and Aneira was killed, it took a lot of the magic that could destroy any other person, fae or human, baby or adult, and shielded me.
Lowering myself to the lip of the firepit, I stared down at the harmless-looking box.
The only sign something was off was the scorch marks tattooing the lid.
Shifting closer, my hands shook. I could feel the force slipping through the box tangling around my fingers and pulling them down farther to it.
It wanted me to take it, to combine our powers as if it craved my magic as much as I craved it.
“We need to destroy it; it’s beyond dangerous. This tiny substance is the most powerful thing in the world. The damage it can do.” Andris’s voice whispered through the back of my head, but I shook it away. I could never destroy it. It was part of me.
The nectar didn’t speak to me the same as the fae book, but the lure to it screamed loudly in my head, sweat beading at the base of my spine.
The tips of my fingers grazed the box. Images flicked on the cusp of my mind, going so fast I could hardly decipher them.
Thunder crackled in the clearing sky, as wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves together.
A vision of a battlefield, blood and death littering the ground, the air smelling of the sweetness of magic and the acrid tang of blood.
But this time I was alone, covered in gore, but what I felt—the power and magic—electrified me inside.
No high could rival it; no thrill could compete.
It was euphoria. Something you would chase for the rest of your life to feel again.
I wanted more.
“No.” A scythe cut down, just nipping at my fingers, hitting the top of the box.
With a cry, I fell back on my ass, fear cutting through the trance I was in, my gaze leaping up to a hooded figure standing over me. My mother’s black, emotionless eyes pinned me to the ground. My heart hammered, fear biting at the back of my neck, telling me something was off.
“You must resist.”
A cry caused me to scramble back through the mud, the understanding dawning that she had spoken, but her mouth never moved.
Holyshitholyshit.
A speck of humanity left in her made her flinch. “You hear me?”
Sucking through my nose, my head nodded. “H-How?”
Eabha watched me blankly for a long time before her voice skated around me.
“When you brought us back, something must have changed. Necromancers communicate through a link. You must bear the curse more than we thought.”
I knew I did. With Warwick and Scorpion, it was a huge part of our connection. I had begun to experience it with Andris before he died.
“But why?” I stopped myself, swallowing and closing my mouth. “Why now?”
“After you brought us back, we were witches again.” Each word was very stiff. “We no longer communicated through a link.”
Yet, now that they were becoming necromancers again, they did. And maybe because I brought them back, I was looped in this time.
“My link to the nectar allows me to feel it, to feel you. The nectar calls to you. Wants you. I can sense the power growing within you both. Power that should not exist. You must resist, daughter.” She positioned herself between me and the box.
“Do not think any sentiment for you will win over my duty. If I must, I will stop you too.”
The instinct to fight her, to take what was mine, made me rise to my feet. She tightened her hold on her weapon. Figures stirred at the edge of the forest—the six other necromancers letting me know they would not hesitate.
You bow down to no one. The thought climbed from the pyre in my gut. My breath was short, my gaze locked with my mother’s. Tension sparked between us, my hands flexing at my sides. It would only take a shove, and I could reach the nectar before she could even get a swing in.
With every breath, the need only grew. My muscles twitched.
“Kovacs.” Warwick stood on the porch step in his boxer briefs. To the outside world, they would only hear him say my name, but I felt all the colors, tasted all his worries and alarms.
Like the weapon my mom was holding, he sliced through the hostility between Eabha and me, pushing me back with a staggered exhale.
The sensation to go for the nectar was still there, but reason painted everything in a different shade.
I had been about to fight my mother. About to challenge seven necromancers.
“Kovacs?” Warwick called to me again, traveling closer as I stepped back to him, instantly easing the tension from my body.
He glanced at Eabha, giving her a nod, his hand going to my lower back, ushering me back into the house.
Shutting the door behind us, I expected him to barrage me with questions, but he didn’t.
Warwick walked me silently back to the bedroom, peeling off the dirty robe and tossing it to the ground.
He spun me to face him, yanking the shirt I borrowed over my head, his fingers digging into my hips as he walked me backward to the bed.
Tossing me back onto the mattress, he growled, stripping off his boxers as he climbed over me, settling between my legs.
Grabbing my wrists, he yanked them above my head almost to the point of pain, arching my back, desire erupting through me.
A small moan left me as his grip tightened on my arms, pinning them to the headboard.
There was no buildup, no teasing. His eyes burned with anger as he thrust deep and ruthlessly into me.
I choked out a groan at the severe onslaught of him, filling me so much I couldn’t breathe.
He pulled out and slammed back into me. The jolt was similar to being electrocuted.
My back bowed, my breasts heaving as he set a punishing pace.
I couldn’t feel his shade. It was only him, and he was making sure I felt every brutal thrust into me.
The bed creaked and banged loudly, wood splintered, but he only went harder.
Sounds hurled out of me, drowning under his retribution.
He branded his fury into me, stamped his fear, tearing and burning me down to ashes.
It was a battle he would not stop until he obliterated me, even if I waved the white flag.
“Oh gods . . .” I cried out, clenching around him.
“You ever . . .” He pounded, the sound of him entering me, the wetness slapping the walls, the hit of his hips against mine, played like a crescendo.
“Do that again . . .” He clenched his teeth, hitting so hard and deep, my eyes rolled back.
“If you feel that pull again, you take it out on me. You got it, Kovacs?”
Another splinter of wood.
“Answer me,” he snarled.
“Yes, yes!” I would have agreed to anything. “Warwick!”
He let go of my arms, grabbed my thighs, and yanked me up and into him. The shift curled my toes, locking up my body as he released inside me. The cries couldn’t be held back as I continued to spasm and convulse, my pussy milking him to the point it almost hurt.
“Fuck!” His head went back, pushing to the hilt as he emptied himself before he collapsed over me.
We lay there, his weight heavy on me, but he made me feel solid. Anchored to this world.
After a few minutes, he sighed heavily, rolling off of me. I couldn’t move, completely annihilated, knowing sleep would find me quickly now.
Hauling my body half over his, his lips brushed my head. “I can feel it call to you.” I knew his anger had been out of fear. I was scared too. Not of the nectar so much, but it was one of the most powerful objects in the world. If it fell into the wrong hands . . .
Drifting off to sleep, I thought I heard the fae book’s voice brush by my consciousness.
“You defy nature, girl. How do you know your hands are not the wrong ones?”
Then the voice was lost in the abyss as I slipped into darkness.
“Noooo!”
A cry lurched me upright out of a dead sleep, my startled vision landing on Scorpion’s shade at the end of the bed, his face twisted in horror.
Then in a blink, I was in the prison, standing next to him.
Cries and commotion took my attention to the middle of the mess hall.
Guards surrounded Killian and Sloane on the floor, their movements similar to prowling animals, clubbing them both, their screeches not sounding human at all.
Several guards held Rosie back as she screamed and thrashed against them.
“Killian!” I heard myself scream out, though no one could hear me except Scorpion.
Something was really wrong with the sentinels. They howled like hyenas and chimpanzees, hitting and wailing their arms, dropping the spiked clubs on the two men over and over, with no restraint or skill.
“No! Stop!” Aggravation and fear boomed through me, knowing there was nothing I could do.
A soldier struck Killian on the back with the spiked club, curving Killian’s spine. A cry he couldn’t stop barked from his lips. Blood colored his yellow uniform brown.
The guard lifted the baton over his head. A gasp spiked in my throat as I recognized Samu. His features were contorted, almost inhuman.
“No! Stop!” Sloane roared, leaping for Killian.
“Sloane, no!” Killian bellowed as Sloane landed over him right as the club came down.
The crunch echoed through the mess hall. The sound of crushing bone and torn flesh.
I heard my scream shredding through my body as I watched blood and gore spray from Sloane’s head, his skull caving in.
Denial of what I was seeing kicked me in the stomach, burning acid up my esophagus.
Staring numbly in disbelief, my eyes locked on Sloane’s unmoving body.
The stoic soldier who had taken me to Halálház, whose faithfulness and respect for Killian turned him into my ally.
I couldn’t call us friends, but I could no longer say we were enemies. Not by a long shot.
Whimpers and cries of horror sprinkled the room.
All I could do was stare, my mind not wanting to register what I just saw.
“Enough!” Boyd’s voice cut through the mess hall. “What is our rule about the next fighters who are battling in the upcoming Games?” Boyd spoke to them as though they were imbeciles. “Your master won’t be pleased!”
“Kovacs.” Both Scorpion and I twisted to see Warwick behind us in the prison, his attention jumping from the spectacle in the middle to me. I knew I could pull them both in together at once, especially when my emotions were high.
“Go.” Scorpion whispered to me, nodding his head to him.
Tears clotted my throat, my head shaking. “No.”
Scorpion stood at the end of the bed, looking between Warwick and me. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
Then the connection was cut.
My body moved before I even could think, like I could crawl back into the scene and be back in the prison. I frantically tried to connect back to Scorpion, but he had blocked the bond, not letting me in.
“Stop.” Warwick grabbed me. “You can’t help them that way.” He yanked me back into him. Holding my jaw, he forced me to look at him. “You can’t help them being there right now. We help them by getting them out.”
Tears of fury and sorrow filled my eyes. “War-wick.” My voice cracked, the images raw and brutal in my mind.
“I know.” His eyes darted between mine, already knowing what I was going to say, but the words still came out in desperation.
“We have to get them. I can’t lose anyone else.”
“And we will.” His hands moved into my hair, cupping the back of my head, his determination set on his face. “We. Will.”
His strength dried up my tears and swallowed my grief. Tilting my chin up high, I stared into his powerful aqua eyes, determination set. Failure was not an option.
There was no limit for us.
We would walk into the valley of the shadow and death.
And they would fear us.