Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
After several more bouts of bed sport, additional food for Silt, and a bath for both of them, he and the princess lay in bed, bodies fitted together. Their appetites—matched as if he and she had been cut from a single grain of sand—were sated. For now.
He still hadn’t claimed her, but it was only a matter of time.
The fire crackled as Kosmina rested her head on his shoulder and traced his tattoos. He threaded his finger through her hair, taking its irresistible scent into him. His thoughts were clear, and yet relaxation stole through him. That’s new.
He still puzzled over who he was and what he ultimately wanted—just knew it included more of this. He’d thought smoking was bliss. Yet nothing could compare to this connection .
He frowned down at the intoxicating vampire. Had he traded one drug for another?
Over the night, she’d confided to him that she used to be tongue-tied and shy. At times, he’d seen hints of that bashful princess when she blushed to the tips of her pointed ears at some new pleasure he introduced, but mostly she’d struck him as a femme fatale he’d barely kept pace with.
Now she’d grown quiet, and he didn’t like that he had no idea what she was thinking about. “What are you musing in that clever mind of yours?”
In a wry tone, she said, “Tell me, did you feel as if we were eleven females short?”
He raised his brows. “I can hardly handle just you, Kosmina.”
“Who?” She languorously stretched beside him. “As you foretold, enchanter, I forgot my own name.” She laughed. Feminine laughter was his aphrodisiac, but hers was different. I can feel it.
Her levity faded too soon, and she grew serious. “I shouldn’t have taken your blood. I’ll only get accustomed to it. And eventually I will lose control and bite you.”
“When those drops first hit your mouth, your eyes cleared for a moment, the red receding.” Their true color was light azure ringed with gold, the color of that Sorselan oasis he’d found. The spring lake had been all the more vivid against the expanse of sand surrounding it.
This princess was as otherworldly as his home realm. If he possessed her, then maybe never going back wouldn’t hurt as much. “My blood temporarily muted the sickness. With enough of it, you could beat the plague.”
She looked like she didn’t dare to hope. “How could that be?”
“Do you remember when I told you the sand hisses at the sun? It does at the rain too, warning it off. But then a shock wave of energy gets released, and the sand welcomes it with opened arms. I felt something shift like that when you consumed those drops.”
“A shock wave is exactly how I’d describe it.”
“Sorceri often possess unknown powers. What if one of mine is to fight this plague in vampires? To test out my theory, I’ll need you to feed on my blood often.”
The gratitude in her expression as she gazed up at him jabbed his conscience further. Her smile returned, but it was sad. “Can I depend on that? Have you forgotten I’m going soon?”
“Considering what you’ve found with me in this bedroom, perhaps you shouldn’t plan so easily to leave it.”
“I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t remain here indefinitely. And not just because of the plague. Something isn’t right with Enti.”
He’d had the same feeling. Her hedonism, though typical for a Sorceri, seemed to carry an edge.
Kosmina frowned. “Everything she says makes sense, and she is trying to help me, but . . .”
“But . . .”
“I can’t figure her out, and I can figure out most.”
Not me, little princess.
“The sorceress gives generously, so why do I feel she’s even more of a reaper than the Gaolers? And more, why do I still like her?”
You wouldn’t if you had truly figured her out.
Kosmina leaned up. “Do you believe her about a parole?”
“I want to. I long to do my time and be free of this sentence. Escape sounds great in theory, but exile in Poly is all that awaits me.” The thought depressed him. What was the point? Why keep enduring?
“You could come to my realm. The Gaolers might not ever find Dacia.”
“Your brother would love that.” Silt’s face flushed as he remembered the scene in his stronghold that Mirceo and Caspion had stolen upon: Silt, naked and drugged out of his mind, surrounded by an army of monsters and an uncaring harem.
In the history of first impressions, I take the prize.
Mirceo would disown Kosmina over her dalliance with Silt. And she would never choose a condemned, powerless sorcerer over the brother who’d raised her.
She didn’t push the idea of Silt’s coming to Dacia. It was ridiculous—but he still wished she’d insisted upon it.
Changing the subject, she said, “I still can’t believe you were born with the ability to break vows.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I wasn’t. I stole the power off a sorceress who’d stolen it off another.”
Kosmina stiffened. “You told me you’d never stolen a power.”
“I lied. I didn’t feel I owed you the truth.”
“But you do now? No more lies, please?”
“Of course. No more lies.” Once she’d relaxed back against him—seriously, why did she keep believing him?—he said, “I’m curious why you denied us sex, even when you were in the throes. If you thought what we shared was divine, the pleasure will only grow.”
She had never lost that last inhibition. In fact, she’d seemed more interested in taking his blood than in taking his shaft. But as promised, he’d kept her from drinking from his flesh. He would do so until she was ready, and until he was ready. For now, his memories must be kept close.
She sat up and pulled the cover to her breasts, as if the sight and feel of them wasn’t emblazoned in his mind forever. “It wasn’t divine .”
He chuckled at her joke. It’d been so worlds-shattering that he might as well have been numb all the times before.
Then he realized she was not joking. “Kosmina?”
“You brought me ecstasy. More than I ever imagined. But we’ve higher to climb.”
The most pleasure he’d felt by realms—and she thought they had room for improvement. His bafflement must be written on his face. Shocked again.
Defensive, she said, “I’m sure you haven’t always been an incomparable lover to every woman you’ve taken.”
He sat up as well. “No complaints, vampire.” No partner had scored him on his performance and declared room for improvement. She parted her lips, but he cut her off: “I didn’t pay every female, princess.”
“You are surly once again. But I know what I want.”
He recalled her explanation of the divine. Does such a thing really exist? “You want love. Love making . But what if I can’t give you what you want?” Where to even start? Love involved trust, right?
Could he learn to again, despite grueling lessons of betrayal? Allies had betrayed him. Almost all Sorceri. His own family! Since then, he’d resolved never to dive into that quicksand, and he’d never regretted it.
The point was moot anyway. She couldn’t trust him . “I can’t give what I don’t possess,” he said with such surety.
Yet something had happened over these hours. He relived that day in Sorselan when he’d traversed over dunes before coming upon his oasis.
A bounty found. A discovery made. All because he’d kept going.
Am I cresting a dune even now?
If he was ever going to trust, it would be a direct female, one who could never lie—one who had no problem informing him that he alone had touched the divine this night.
“I’m not asking you for forever, Silt. I’m just telling you that the man I fully give my body to will be mine—forever. It’s very simple: if you can’t give me that, then you’re not him .”
Him. The idea of some future male claiming her . . . claws must be raking him on the inside. Would she return to wanting the Ideal?
She chuckled at his obvious unease. “Forever, sorcerer.”
“And where does that leave us now?”
“You can only give what you can give. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other, up to a point, until my weapon is complete.”
The weapon that was never coming.
She ran her nails down his chest. “While we wait, I’ll give you ample opportunity to sexually spellbind me. Give it your best shot, short of intercourse.”
More bed play with Kosmina. Repeatedly pleasuring her. She offered him almost everything he’d wanted, what he’d schemed to get. “Your terms are acceptable.” He cleared his throat into his fist, working to shake off his guilt, an emotion he had little experience with.
“Be careful that you don’t lose your heart in the process.”
“I’ve pursued women for eons, and my heart remains mine.” He was convinced he had none.
“But, Silt, you’ve never met anyone like me,” she said with a vulnerable smile, demonstrating that directness mixed with sweetness—a unique blend that made his chest tighten and proved her statement.
He would figure all this out later, when sleep wasn’t calling him and when his balls weren’t pleasantly sore from the night’s activities.
She nibbled her bottom lip. “If we do grow closer, you will grieve as this plague worsens.” She sounded more worried about him than herself.
“It won’t worsen. You’ll gorge on my blood the way those demons downstairs gorge on delicacies.” But could he say for certain such a plan would work? He’d be betting with her life. Just like that, thoughts of sleep vanished.
She looked unconvinced as well. “I can sense the plague closing in on me. I might be weeks out from losing control. Maybe mere days.” As Enti had predicted. “If your blood doesn’t forestall it, I’ll become a danger to you. I’ve read about vampires who channel unstoppable strength in a bloodlust. I could hurt you, Silt.”
He gave her an indulgent look. “You can never overpower me.” He lay back down and dragged her to him with the ease of lifting a feather. “I’ll be fine. You worry for nothing, female.”
“Hmm.” In time, relaxation returned between them. “I want to know something about you, something you haven’t told me.” She was likely angling to discover what his tattoos meant.
Which he would never reveal. Had the transactions between them already started?
She surprised him by saying, “Tell me your real name.”
“You assume it’s not Silt?”
“Your parents didn’t name you that.”
True. Millennia ago, in a major battle for territory, he’d caused a tidal wave of silt to choke a crystalline river that had once given life to thousands. He’d dammed it forever.
Not entirely on purpose.
His enemies had called him Silt. He’d let the name stick. Afterward, he’d lived up to his reputation as a befouler. “Why would you want to know this?” He resisted revealing his name but couldn’t say why.
Yet then she gazed up with those eyes of hers. “Please?”
“My name is . . .” He hadn’t uttered it in eons. “My given name is . . . Adham.”
In a dulcet voice, she repeated, “Adham.”
Chills raced across his skin, and his shaft swelled yet again.
“I like that.” She ran the softs pads of her fingers over his tattoos. “I want you to know that no matter what happens with me, I’m glad we’ve spent this time together.”
So she didn’t regret him. But then, she didn’t know his history or his lies. Still . . . “You’re in my bed from now on, Kosmina. Mine alone.”
“ From now on , he says.” She gave a gallows laugh, and a flashback hit him—of lightning reflected in her sightless eyes.
Roiling from that memory, he bit out, “Listen, you bleak wench, if my blood doesn’t work, then we will find another cure somewhere.” What the hell was he saying? Yet he kept godsdamn talking . “You’re going to enjoy a long, immortal life.”
“We?” She’d pounced on that one word like quarry.
Now what? The more he’d considered his options, the more he’d accepted that staying here was the only path that made sense.
A billions-to-one chance at escape—versus a curtailed idyll with this female, his favorite one so far. They didn’t even know a way out existed! Unknown did not equal windfall.
Clever Kosmina had to have determined their two options.
One enters the hive to die. Or two enter and die.
And yet he knew what her next question would be. . . .
“Adham, when the weapon is ready, will you leave with me?” She held herself still, as if his next words would be monumental. As if they’d be true .
Staring into her eyes, he lied, “Yes.”