Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Sleep abandoned me, leaving me out in the cold, harsh land of my thoughts.
Tossing and turning, I searched for reprieve over and over, only to end up even more restless and cranky.
My head filled with everything that had been going on, though one thing seemed to dominate it, one person, but I was trying really hard not to acknowledge the endless space he was taking up in my mind.
I gave up around three a.m. I turned on my lamp and sat up, hugging my arms around my legs.
Warwick wasn’t the only thing churning in my brain.
I was also worried about Ash. Wondering if he was back in Budapest yet, if he was okay.
Andris, Birdie, and especially Scorpion were constantly circling through my thoughts.
Were they safe? Found a new base? Andris was probably freaking out, thinking something horrible happened to me.
The one person who would know I was at least alive was Scorpion.
Breathing out, I laid my head back against the wall, shutting my lids, trying to reach out to him. The link was still there, which told me he was alive, but I couldn’t actually see him or project myself to where he was. Our connection wasn’t strong.
Was it because I was buried underneath thousands of energy-sucking spirits? I couldn’t link to Warwick when I was down here before either. Only when I was away at the train station was he able to find me.
Which landed on the big issue really bothering me: I attracted the dead. Had brought some back to life.
Who the fuck could do that? Not even fae could, except a high Druid/obscurer, and they could only bring back them half back.
Where they were alive but living half-lives.
Shells. Tortured souls who were neither alive nor dead.
And the theory that necromancers brought people back from the dead was slightly misconstrued; they just reanimated skeletons. There was no soul or anything left.
Druid or necromancer, all their victims were zombie-esque.
Warwick and Scorpion were neither. And I wasn’t a Druid or a necromancer.
So, what the hell was I?
Rubbing at my face, I felt the draw to head upstairs.
Like the ghosts were calling me to come play.
Ash did tell me I needed to challenge them.
Take control. The curiosity of talking with them simmered under my skin.
Would I be able to fully communicate with them? What if they could tell me what I was?
“Fuck it.” I shoved back the covers, dressing quickly in a tank, cargo pants, and boots, tossing my hair into a ponytail before venturing out.
The halls were silent, most of the humans fast asleep, and many fae were probably out “hunting” for food, which usually meant humans in some form.
Fae fed mainly off sex, emotions, or human sins for energy.
The human/fae food pyramid was far from perfect, but I no longer looked at every fae as the devil now.
They were only trying to survive like everyone else.
Going up the flights of stairs, the weight of each soul began to push down on me. This time I understood why I was so tired and nauseated when I got close to the surface. They could sense me and reached for me through the layer of soil between us.
Taking the last few steps, I crawled out of the crypt and into the Bone Church. The moment I did, the spirits came for me, rushing for me like a stampede. “No!” I ordered. “Stop.”
They did not listen.
“No!” I shouted again. My muscles started to wobble, blackness seeping into my vision, my teeth clenching down. “Get back!”
More and more charged, the spirits brushing against my skin, their voices joining together like the hiss of static until it pounded in my head. A strangled cry broke from my lips.
“I said stop!” I screamed, my back curving over, vomit climbing up my throat. I fell to the ground, trying so hard to shield myself, but my energy continued to drain out quickly.
My gut knew they didn’t mean to hurt me, but there were so many. They were ripping bits of my life away, sucking everything from me.
With utter clarity, I understood this was what I did to Warwick the other day, taking his energy. If the link hadn’t been cut, would I have stopped? Would I have killed him? Because without a doubt, I felt in my soul this was what was happening now.
Leave it to me to die because I was too stubborn to ask for help.
My face hit the stone floor, my conscious thoughts slipping away.
“No! Get the fuck up, princess.” A deep voice lifted my lids, and Warwick’s shadow loomed over me. “Get the hell up and fight!”
“I can’t.” Every bone felt like jelly. I just wanted to sleep. Forever.
“Fuck that,” he growled. “You had the capability and strength to tear through time and space to save me, and you’re going to give up now?
” He squatted, his anger igniting his eyes.
“You have more power in you than you know. Use me! I will not lose you. Not to a bunch of ghosts,” he bellowed.
“Now get the fuck up, sotet démonom. FIGHT!”
He reached down and touched my face, and I felt his force filling me, giving me strength.
My lids burst open, a gasp tearing from my throat.
Power snapped down my spine, and I sat up, energy exploding from me.
The dark church burst with light, crackling like lightning, exposing the jumble of ghosts surrounding me in the shadows.
No faces or even bodies, but their presence, their need for me, hazed the air.
“Get. Back!” The order boomed from my chest. It was like a bomb went off. The spirits flew back, the voices in my head going silent. Energy discharged from me, crackling the air, rumbling like thunder, as I rose to my feet, my shoulders rolling back. “Now!”
“You do not touch me or take my energy unless invited.” The force of my voice made them slink back farther. “Do. You. Understand?”
I felt like they did. A connection with them settled deep in my bones. They knew who the alpha was.
It was like a switch, the strange light fading out. My body sagged over, taking in deep breaths, my hands going to my knees. What the fuck just happened?
A noise near the stairs twisted my head to the side.
Aqua eyes burned into me through the dark.
Warwick stood on the last step, watching me.
Rage and another emotion I couldn’t grasp vibrated off the beast like a drum.
His gaze moved over my figure, making every place it touched shiver. Then his eyes landed back on mine.
Straightening up, my chin rose in a challenge. An unspoken threat. Daring him to test me. I would not let him hurt or take any more from me either.
“I didn’t mean to take from you.”
“You didn’t,” he rumbled, his chest moving up and down. “I tried to help you . . . but that was all you.”
All me? How was that possible?
Swallowing down the fright, I lifted my head higher.
“You think I need you, but I don’t, Farkas. I don’t need anyone.”
His eyes tapered, his shoulders rolled back, and a deep growl rumbled in his throat. That was the only warning I got. He barreled toward me like a train, fury streaking his face. As if I survived the ghosts only to become his victim.
His kill.
His name caught on my tongue as he crashed into me. His hands clutched my arms, my spine slamming against the wall, his body pressing into mine.
“You got it all wrong, Kovacs.” Anger and desire stormed through his eyes as a deep growl shook the room, raking down every nerve and bone in my body. “It’s us who needs you.”
His fingers curled around my ponytail, yanking my head back roughly. Ecstasy and pain sizzled down my vertebrae. His free hand slid up my jaw, cupping the back of my head.
“Warwick?” His name came out a question. A want. A plea.
“For once, princess, shut up.” His hands clutched my ass, lifting me up, my legs wrapping around him.
“Make me.”
His mouth crashed into me like an explosion.
Life. Death.
Love. Hate.
With just a kiss, everything ignited, making me realize we had not actually kissed before. The feel of his actual lips on mine was ruthless and vicious, snapping fire and electricity into my nerves.
Pure pleasure.
Pure pain.
Downright feral.
The barricade we tried to keep up between us splintered into pieces, dousing us in white-hot flames, making me more desperate. My nails raked through his hair as I pulled myself closer to him, demanding more.
“Fuck.” His fingers dug into my head, his tongue slipped and curled with mine, creating a deep moan in my chest. “Why does kissing you feel this fucking good?” His hands wrapped around my neck, tipping my face to his, his eyes burning into mine.
Hungry.
They would devour and rip me into shreds.
I wanted every bit of my destruction. And I would be his.
Staring down at him, I dropped back to my feet. His thumb pushed harder into my throat, the pulse matching the need beating in my pussy. I unbuttoned his pants, shoving them down his thick, muscular thighs. My body responded with desperation as my hand took hold of his massive erection.
Fuck. He felt a hundred times larger, hotter, and thicker in my actual hands.
In my mind, my mouth covered him, sucking and licking as I stroked him. His lids fluttered as he leaned in closer to me. “Kovacs.” His voice cracked as he greedily captured my mouth again while I felt his tongue also glide down my stomach to my core, licking through me. A gasp erupted from my lips.
Maybe we just needed to get this out of our system, then it would go away.
“Fuck me, Farkas. Now.”
My demand was a detonator. We went from needy to vicious and frenzied.
His fingers ripped my tank over my head. Our kisses were frantic, the kind that would devastate and destroy. He bit into my bottom lip, driving my desire for him into a fury.
He growled, his hands breaking the zipper of my pants as he ripped them down, stripping me until I was bare. His gaze glowed as his eyes and fingers traced over my small curves.
I understood. Screw foreplay.