Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Neve
He sat up from the snow and lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding light. Neve blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust his vision.
Untouched snow-covered land stretched out in front of him as far as he could see. Gray clouds roiled in the sky above, only broken up by lightning. He frowned at the sky. The lightning streaked across the clouds, but it was pink, purple, blue, and green.
Where was he?
“Son.”
He flinched away from the female voice, scrambling in the snow. Neve stiffened as he locked eyes with his mum. She stood to his left, dressed in nothing but a black nightgown. Her purple-black hair floated in the air, but there was no breeze.
“Mommar?” he rasped.
She smiled at him, her dark eyes twinkling. His hearts clenched. She’d always had a wicked sense of humor and a silly streak a million miles wide. He missed her every day.
“Who else, darling?” She glanced around, her lips twitching. “I see no one else in this barren place.”
A lump rose in his throat. He swallowed hard, his gaze scouring his mother. She looked exactly how he remembered her. “How are you here?”
She grinned and sauntered closer. His mommar held her hand out to him. Neve glance behind her, noting her bare feet hadn’t made any prints in the snow. That didn’t make any sense. A sinking feeling settled in his gut.
“Am I dead?” he asked.
His mum laughed, the sound infectious. “No, darling, but you soon will be.”
He glanced at her and jerked. She lunged at him, toppling Neve onto his back.
He stared wide-eyed up at the creature that knelt over him.
Her eyes had become swirling black pits, and silver blood dripped from her gaping mouth, her teeth the color of ash.
She grabbed him by the throat, her bloody claws piercing Neve’s skin.
“Mommar?” he stuttered, terrified by the monster straddling him. He struggled against his mother, but her hold was like steel. Her grip tightened, and he clawed at her arm. “Please.”
“Why would I give you any relief when you gave me none?” she crooned.
Something warm dripped onto his chest and stomach. He glanced down as silver blood seeped from her now ragged gown and onto him, warming his skin.
“Why didn’t you save me?”
Neve choked, struggling against his mommar. “I tried,” he wheezed, tears flowing down his cheeks. “I tried to save you.”
“You let me suffer,” she hissed, her grip tightening. “I asked you for relief. I begged you for death.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to dismiss the memory that rose.
His mum in his arms, her head so heavy in his small lap.
The blood that stained their skin.
Her unintelligible words and gurgles.
The way she pleaded with her eyes.
When she’d curled his fingers around a long rusty nail.
The way he’d shaken as she’d bared her neck to him.
All hope fizzled away.
Only agony and suffering.
A broken, dying body in his arms.
“You remember,” his mommar whispered, her rancid breath wafting over his face.
Neve forced his eyes open. “I was just a child! Only eight winters old.”
Her black lips pulled back from her rotting teeth. “We raised you to be stronger. You’re a frost giant. You dishonored our family by your weakness.”
Tremors began to wrack his body as her grip tightened.
It was his darkest secret and shame.
His mommar had asked him for mercy as the humans had broken her body to the point of no return. She didn’t have the strength to do it herself. Neve hadn’t been able to do it. Instead, he held his mommar, blood soaking his clothes and skin, until her body gave a final convulsion and cooled.
Neve peered up at the creature above him. He stopped fighting and cupped her icy cheek, even as dots danced across his vision. “Lo bietelle,” he wheezed. I am sorry.
“No, but you will be.” A rusty nail appeared in her left hand, and she stabbed him in the neck.
Pain exploded through his body, and everything went black.
He woke, shivering in his shower room. The walls shimmered with opaque crystal, but that wasn’t what demanded his attention.
Neve blinked the water out of his eyes and gazed at his little saloes wife who rested underneath the spray in the middle of the shower. Her back was to him. He swallowed hard, his gaze running over the cuts and bruises that covered her creamy skin.
Something in the back of his mind told him something was wrong other than the obvious.
He stepped down the last stair and moved to the middle of the shower, pausing to kneel behind his loviaye, the mosaic tiles biting into his knees.
Neve reached out with a trembling hand and gently touched his bride’s spine, tracing the bumpy ridge until it reached the dimples above her pale, round buttocks.
She lifted her head and spun to face him, reclining on her rear.
Neve’s hearts lurched when she smiled at him, her cute flat human teeth bared.
He soaked in the sight of her. While she was covered in bruises and cuts, sporting a black eye and split lip, Lia was still so beautiful.
When had he stopped seeing her as an oddity and an inconvenience?
When had she become a priceless treasure? His mate was stunning.
His breath caught when she inched her knees apart in a clear invitation.
How he longed for her.
For ages, all he had wanted was to run his hands along her velvety skin and taste every inch of his niliave. He needed to devour his wife, to imprint himself on her forever. Because that was what this meant.
Forever.
He lifted her left foot and pressed a kiss to the inside of her ankle. Slowly, he apologized with kisses for each one of her bruises. It was his job to protect her, and one of his own had hurt his niliave.
“Lo bietelle,” he whispered, pulling back before he reached the junction between her thighs.
She smiled once again and crawled into his lap.
Neve groaned, the silk of her skin sliding against his own. His hearts thundered as he stared into her lovely human face, sorav surging against his belly in appreciation of his mate. She was everything he never wanted, and everything he could possibly dream.
“Lo kaeye vae,” he murmured. I love you. He was still too much of a coward to say it in the common tongue, but the words were out in the open now. Neve hadn’t thought he could bond with a human but now that it was done, he had no regrets.
He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in as his hands roamed her delicate frame. His brows furrowed when her familiar ginger scent didn’t flood his senses. Instead, something sickly sweet greeted him.
“What is that . . .” He flinched as a pinch at the back of his neck registered. His mouth went slack, tongue feeling heavy.
His body lost all coordination and slumped into the bottom of the shower. Lia stared down at him, all traces of desire and love gone. His mate glared at him, a dagger now in her hand as she straddled his hips.
His wife leaned over his body, tilting his chin up with the tip of her blade. “Did you really think I would let a monster touch me?” Her lips curved cruelly. “You thought to use me. Did you think that I didn’t know?”
He tried to reply, but his mouth wouldn’t work. Warm water covered his fingers and then wrists, slowly rising. The recessed shower was filling up.
I changed. We changed. I love you. You love me.
She chuckled, but it sounded nothing like his wife.
Her wet rose-gold hair darkened to the color of blood and hung between them, dripping steadily onto his chest, the spray from above steadily filling the bottom of the deep shower basin.
Soon, his pointed ears were filled with water, but he could still hear clearly.
Dahlia gestured to her face with the blade. “This was your doing.”
He’d trusted Lumi, and it had almost led to Lia’s death.
His fingers twitched against her calves which bracketed his hips as she knelt over him.
I’m sorry. Lo bietelle.
As if she could hear his thoughts, she shook her head.
“You aren’t, but you will be.” She glared at him.
“You thought you could just take, and I’d fall at your feet.
That everyone would fall in line because you’re the mighty Frost King, but you’re nothing but a weak king with a crumbling kingdom.
You leave death in your wake. Your family is proof of that.
How much longer until death consumes Loriia? ”
She sighed, gently drawing a pattern on his chest with the tip of the dagger, silver blood welling to the surface. The water rose until it covered his eyes and mouth, leaving only his nose exposed. He stared up through the water, Lia’s body distorted.
“I’ll not rot with you,” her voice whispered inside his mind. “I’ll destroy the threat before it can destroy me.”
She stabbed him, piercing his lung.
Neve bellowed—the water rising above his nose. He sucked in a breath but only swallowed water and blood. Choking, he convulsed, eyes bulging as he stared up at the woman who was supposed to be his lover but was his executioner instead.
The world wavered, and he tried to hang on.
I’m sorry.
His vision tunneled, and the darkness smothered him once again.
Neve lurched upward.
Hands pressed him backward, and he fought.
“Shhhhhhh, Reillov, you’re okay.”
He glared at the unfamiliar giantess holding him down. He would not be tricked again. Neve swiped his claws at the unfamiliar valles.
She lurched backward, eyes wide. “I need help,” she cried, cupping her arm, which dripped with silver blood.
Olwen grabbed his wrist and grinned at Neve. “Quite the reflexes, but how about we save the violence for someone who deserves it?”
Neve growled at the apparition, weakly swiping at Olwen with his right hand. A familiar white hand seized his forearm. He whipped his attention toward Flyka as she crawled onto the bed. He bared his fangs and snapped at her. “My mate,” he croaked. “Let go.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not if you’re going to hurt someone or yourself. Calm down.”
His hearts raced as the two apparitions tried to pin him down. He wouldn’t be easy prey this time.
“Never.”
“The hard way it is,” Olwen growled. He crawled onto the mattress and used his massive muscle mass to pin Neve down. There was no overtaking the berserker.
Neve fought with everything he had, but his strength drained, leaving him gasping and exhausted. He turned his head to the side to avoid all of Olwen’s braids in his face.
“You mustn’t tax him. He needs to recover,” a stiff male voice said.
“Do you want to do this?” Olwen snarled.
Pinned and at the mercy of the apparitions, Neve closed his eyes and waited for the pain of death to take him. Seittae, be quick.
“Hey,” Flyka murmured softly in his ear. “Your hearts are racing. You are safe, lae reillov.”
Nowhere was safe.
“Take a deep breath,” Olwen said.
So they could poison him? He held his breath as long as he could, but eventually, Neve’s body gave out. He gulped in air, familiar scents piercing through the panic.
Lia’s faded ginger scent.
Wind & thyme . . . Flyka.
Leather & smoke . . . Olwen.
Incense. Sweat. Herbs.
No pain came.
Neve pried his eyes open.
His friends stared down at him with worry.
“Is this real?” he rasped, licking his cracked lips. He trembled as he awaited their answer.
“Yes.”
He didn’t trust them, but his whole body hurt, and the aching pain felt real.
So did the exhaustion.
“Sleep,” Flyka said softly. “We’ll be here when you wake.”
He didn’t want to sleep, but his body wouldn’t obey.
Please be real was the last thought he had before sleep once again claimed him.