Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Poison
Ifelt a tugging in my chest, almost like a tether being drawn taut.
“Fucking fight!” the Commander roared, and I couldn’t tell if I had heard it in my head.
Yes. I had to fight. I won’t let these vile creatures drag me away without a fight.
The sharp pain radiating into my shoulder was blinding.
I pulled against the skeletal grip of the creature, screaming at the tearing sensation through my shoulder.
I begged for my power to surface but nothing came. I couldn’t control it.
I rolled, my dislocated shoulder turning at an unnatural angle, throwing the dead warrior off balance. It crashed to the side with my weight. Dragging my useless arm, I pulled myself on top of the decaying creature.
I lunged for the bone sword, fingers grazing its bloodstained hilt, only for skeletal hands to seize me, claws raking down my arms, and splitting skin with jagged bone.
Fire lanced through me. Decaying fingers sank deeper, peeling flesh from bone.
A raw cry tore from my throat. Beneath me, the corpse made a sickening gurgled laugh as we struggled for the weapon.
It wrenched the sword from my grasp, bringing the hilt down on my head.
Pain exploded across my temple, sharp and dizzying.
I crumpled to the ground, clutching my head as the world tilted sideways, the trees spinning in and out of focus.
Darkness hit them first.
The Commander of Death tore from the shadows, eyes like starless pits, black veins spidering from their edges.
A growl rolled out of his chest, more animal than male.
An obsidian broadsword gleamed in his grip, black flames licking the blade.
Steel met bone with a shriek. Bones snapped and rot peeled like wet parchment.
Ash and rot burst into the air, the thing collapsing in a heap of filth.
The Commander spun, disappearing into shadow and reappearing in front of another decaying monster.
Their swords clashed, bone against steel.
His shadows swarmed, tearing through its glowing eyes and pouring into its mouth.
It slowed the creature down momentarily, enough for the Commander to swing his sword.
Its head landed with a wet thump on the ground.
He moved with lethal grace, cutting down the monsters.
Hope flickered through my chest like a dying candle, briefly, before sputtering out as skeletal claws gripped my hair and pulled so hard, I thought my scalp would peel off. I screamed.
The Commander’s lethal gaze snapped to me and he growled, baring his canines. My scalp burned, body dragging against the rough ground by nothing but my hair. I thrashed, kicking and reaching for the dead hands that gripped my hair. I couldn’t reach.
The Commander ripped into the air in front of me, bursting from the darkness. His blade sunk into the creature’s flesh with a sickening crunch. Dark blue gore splattered me as the creature slumped, and a whimper of relief left me as it let go of my hair.
The Commander crouched in front of me. “You are okay,” he rumbled, more to himself then me.
Before I could yell at him, his eyes flared. He began to spin but, it was too late. The tip of a white, jagged sword protruded through his bare abdomen. He dropped to his knees, shadows angrily lashing out around him.
“Run,” he whispered. “Get Cerilla.” Dark veins spread from the sword against his skin. Poison.
The dead warrior grinned, half its face sloughing from exposed skull, as it planted a foot on the Commander’s back. It tore the sword free with a nauseating, tearing squelch. The rest of the dead army swarmed towards us.
I gritted my teeth, digging past the pain and fear to the small thrumming of power within me. I pulled the power from my very soul. It was depleted, weak. But I took from it anyway.
My head snapped back as the sound tore from my throat, eerie and layered, an unearthly harmony of rage, grief, and something far more ancient than me. It wasn’t just a scream. It was a summoning.
The air shivered. The dead paused, just for a heartbeat.
And in the next, they exploded. Rupturing like overripe fruit beneath pressure, bones cracking outward as blue ichor sprayed in arcs through the dead trees.
Skulls shattered. Ribs split. Spines twisted backward as if the scream physically repelled them.
Ash spewed from their mouths. Eyes exploded in sockets.
Until all that was left were heaps of bone and rot collapsing.
The forest went still. Ash drifted down around me like snow, but all I could taste was blood and the echo of my own voice. The Commander’s large form was slumped and unconscious. I pushed against him, rolling him onto his back despite exhaustion trying to drag me into unconsciousness.
“Commander?” My voice shook as I put my hand against his neck, checking for a heartbeat. A sigh of relief left my lips when I found it, though it was too fast and thready.
I slammed my hands over his wound, trying to hold him together—but the blood that soaked my fingers wasn’t red. It was a deep, dark blue.
I froze, then dragged my hands back, staring at them as if they no longer belonged to me.
Why the hell does he bleed blue? Did all Fae bleed this way? No, I had seen Solas bleed and his blood had been red.
I ripped my shirt off and pressed it against his bleeding wound.
“No. No. No,” I murmured angrily as black veins spread rapidly over his body.
I finally didn’t want to die, and with my life tethered to his, finding answers did not look like it would be in my fate.
I couldn’t leave him here to bleed out while I looked for help, but I knew I couldn’t carry him either.
“Gods curse my stupidity,” I muttered to myself as I took his dagger from his waist belt.
I didn’t know if it would help, but it was worth trying.
The familiar cold sting of the knife bit across the wrist of my injured arm.
I clenched my teeth through the pain in my shoulder as I used my other arm to lift it to his mouth.
I pressed my wrist against his lips. My blood trickled into the mouth of my captor.
Of my enemy. And a small part inside me begged it to save him.
“Come on,” I whispered, pressing my bleeding wrist to his mouth. His throat worked. Then his hands locked around my arm, his canines piercing my skin.
Warmth flooded through my veins as his wound knitted together under my palm. The black lines eased from his skin. His eyes sprung open, gulping my blood down like a someone starved. The warmth spread low into my stomach, flooding my senses. The pain ebbed. All I could feel was him.
Before I could stop myself, a moan fell from my lips.
He drank deeper, and wetness pooled between my thighs.
I climbed on his lap, straddling his waist. I wanted him.
I needed him to touch me. I needed more.
My skin tingled, drinking in his lust. Fuelling the power thrumming in my veins.
His hardness pressed against me, straining against his pants as though it were going to burst. A growl rumbled through his chest, making my core throb.
I rocked my hips, grinding myself against his large length, desperate for friction.
I wanted to touch him. To taste him. To feel him inside of me.
I gripped his dark curls, pulling him closer.
It wasn’t enough. My head snapped back, a strangled sound tearing from my throat.
Pure need surged through me, bright and blinding.
His hunger bled into me, a heat that seeped into my bones, my veins, a tide that filled every hollow space until I felt impossibly, dangerously alive.
“More,” I begged. My hand reached down between us, trailing downwards over the large divots of muscle. Shadows teased my skin, pressing against my breasts, my nipples tightening to painful points. My hand slid into his pants and his hips jerked against me.
My mouth found the side of his neck, leaving wet kisses there as I wrapped my hand around his cock, giving it one long stroke. Butterflies filled my stomach. Gods, he felt huge.
“Fuck,” he breathed against my wrist, cock twitching in my hand. But he pulled away, gripping my forearm. “Stop,” he demanded, voice strained.
I tilted my head at him, long silver waves trickling over my shoulder with the movement of my hand stroking his hardness again. “I want you,” I whispered.
The Commander dissipated into shadows, disappearing from underneath me.
Shadows coiled violently, then reformed. Two feet away, he knelt on the forest floor, gripping his dark hair. His breathing was ragged.
I shifted back onto my knees, my injured arm dropping awkwardly, but I didn’t feel the pain. The only thing I felt was pure need.
“No,” he growled. The word trembled with restraint, almost broken sounding. “It’s my venom. You do not actually want this.” He ground the words out, each word clipped.
I pouted at him, my good hand trailing down my exposed abdomen before sliding into the front of my pants.
“It certainly feels like I want this,” I challenged, pulling my hand free, sparkling in the dull light with my arousal.
He stared at me with his lips parted, breath coming hard and fast.
I didn’t break eye contact as I brought my glistening finger to my lips, licking it from the base to the tip before pushing it into my mouth and sucking it with a wet pop.
“You are a fucking dangerous little thing,” he muttered, nostrils flaring. “Get up before I make you,” he threatened.
I stood, pouting up at him. My arm dragged unnaturally, and large wounds tore through the skin of my biceps. But I felt no pain. How strange. I wobbled on my feet.
“I can take you.” I promised him. “I’m not innocent, Commander, I’ve taken men before—”