Chapter 21 #2
Without warning, the king shoved the bloodied tips into the ear of my bard. I might’ve screamed—I wasn’t certain—most sound was drowned out by bone-splitting wails.
The bard clutched his ear and fell to his knees. His beautiful face twisted and split into something horrific. Pockets of skin on his cheeks were missing, and through fleshy tendons, his yellowed teeth were visible. His complexion was colorless, not even pale. It was nearly translucent.
The king took hold of my arm and pulled me against his side. “No vow of servitude outweighs the word of your king.”
“Sing,” the musician sobbed. “Sing, I beg of you.”
He convulsed. What looked like sea-foam frothed from his ear. His horrid eyes rolled back in his skull. Jaw tight, the creature kept pleading through his teeth for the king to save him.
A crowd gathered. No one tried to help the dying heap of a sea singer.
Most watched as though it were a delightsome part of the evening.
A few gazes lifted to me, curious, maybe a bit unsettled.
My body was still pressed against Bloodsinger’s, and the feel of the hard planes of his form made the constant heat on my skin devolve into a maddening boil.
I dug my fingernails into his arm, needing him closer.
Hells, I would fall to my knees and plead if only he’d put his clever hands on my skin again.
I arched against him, seeking pressure, any sort of relief from the ache pooling between my thighs.
Erik frowned and dragged me through the crowd, pausing at Larsson. He was handsome, with a strong jaw, and the right amount of beard. Without a thought, I stroked the curve of Larsson’s arm. Gods, he was strong.
Bloodsinger let out a strange kind of hiss and pulled me back. “Get the draught, Larsson.”
I never thought long on how much I liked his name. Larsson. Not as much as I enjoyed saying “Erik Bloodsinger,” but close.
Larsson chuckled. “You may call me whatever you’d like, lady. I’ll be Bloodsinger for an eve—”
“Go, or you lose an eye,” Erik snarled.
Larsson paused when Erik looked ready to follow through on his threat and lifted his hands in surrender. “I’ll find Poppy.”
Hells, I said all that out loud.
“Aye, love.”
“Quit making me talk.” I pawed at my chest, unable to keep the burn of desire tamed. “These are…they’re private thoughts.”
“I assure you it isn’t me making you speak.” Bloodsinger led me into a back room already occupied by a naked man and woman, her body bent over a table, and his rocking hard enough the edge slammed against the wall. “Out!”
The couple screamed and scrambled for cover, never truly looking at the king. Within a few heartbeats they were fleeing, and Erik slammed the latch on the door into the locked position.
I tugged at my top. So bleeding hot. A fire must’ve burned in some inconspicuous place within the room. I gathered the skirt up my legs; if I did not rid myself of these suffocating clothes, I’d scream.
“Livia.” Erik took my hands.
“Say it again.” I pressed against his chest with enough strength that Erik was forced to catch me but lost his footing. His back slammed into the wall. “I love how you say my name.”
Pressure from his thigh burned against my aching core. I moaned, eyes closed, and could not stop the need to seek more. Against his leg, I arched and writhed.
“Damn the hells,” Erik muttered under his breath. He held his hands on my waist, letting me rock against him for a few breaths before shaking his head. “No, this ends now.”
My body, from crown to foot, trembled in unforgiving need. He was refusing me, and I could not fathom it. The thought made me feel as though I’d retch any moment. Perhaps he didn’t believe I wanted him. We’d been at odds; that must’ve been the cause of his reluctance.
I could show him—yes, I’d show the Ever King every seed of my desire belonged to him.
I stepped back and slid one arm out of my sleeve.
Erik’s mouth tightened. His eyes went wide. “Livia. Stop.”
“Don’t you want me?” The shirt opened enough that cool air brushed over the slope of my breast. A little more and I’d be bared to the king. “We never did finish what we started—”
“Songbird.” He took hold of my wrists again, breath heavy.
Erik let his forehead fall to mine. “Sea singers have a lure to their voice. You’ve heard lore of a siren song—male sea singers use their pipes and lyres the way a siren uses her voice.
For earth fae, it draws out lust, and you can’t resist the song.
I should’ve thought to look for one, but—”
I cut him off and slammed my lips to his.
He needed to cease speaking. Erik was stiff but placed his hands on my hips, digging his fingernails into my skin.
I slid my tongue against the seam of his bottom lip, and a deep groan rumbled in the back of his throat. The king tightened his hold on my body.
A new pulse of desire burned through me. This time it began at the scar on my arm, shooting to my heart in a single breath. I wanted him. Not the bard. Not handsome Larsson. I wanted Erik Bloodsinger.
With care, his palm slid up my spine. His fingers speared through my hair, gripping it at the roots, angling my mouth to his. I deepened the kiss eagerly. His tongue was warm and furious, and drew out an embarrassing whimper from my chest with demanding strokes.
He tasted like rain, fresh and clean, and an earthy smoke. I needed him everywhere. Even then, I was certain it wouldn’t be enough.
I hooked a leg around his waist. His hips rocked against mine but stiffened straightaway, as though he were still battling his own need. I could see it in the fiery spark in his gaze, the way his chest rose in frantic breaths. He was as greedy as me.
My teeth dug into his lip. I bit down and scraped as I pulled back.
“Songbird.” Erik moaned, breaking the kiss, and buried his face against my throat. “No blood.”
Right. His blood meant death, a painful death. I panted in quick gasps. A death he’d proffered the seedy bard for taunting me with his song.
Erik killed for me. Never did I believe I’d embrace anyone’s darkness in such a way, but the more I thought of how he tore me away, the more his eyes flashed in a possessive violence when he thought I’d belong to the sea singer. Gods, I wanted to tear my way inside him and never leave.
Frantic, my body pressed into his, wild and lost on a path I knew led to destruction, but there was nothing I cared to do to stop it. Poison blood and all.
Heat reached a breaking point inside me. I needed him. All of him. Before he could protest, I took hold of one of his wrists and guided his palm off my hip, up my ribs, until he cupped the underside of my breast.
Erik snapped back, breaking the connection, and returned his hands to my hips.
He tried to maneuver me a few paces from him, but I planted my feet and glowered. “I am freely yours. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m letting you take me.”
A shadow passed over his features, something almost heartbreaking. His thumb traced the line of my bottom lip. “It’s not real, love. I took you. I plan to slaughter your family. Remember all those gory details?”
“Stop it. Stop it.” I shook my head, trapped in a delirious spin of unsatisfied sensual lust and the truth of his words, which dug deep into my chest like a rusted blade. I clutched the sides of my head. No. I wanted him. He was like a hidden piece of my heart. Yet I hated him. I should hate him.
“It’ll be over soon.” Erik’s voice was distant, almost like he was speaking to me underwater.
Another person was there. My head was swimming, but I recognized Larsson. He spoke to the king, glanced at me, then left the room. In Erik’s hand was a cup of something hot, the steam pungent with a tart, fishy scent.
Erik curled his hand around the back of my head. “Drink this.”
I shook my head, pinching my lips.
He scoffed. “Not afraid of my blood in your mouth, but a tonic is where you draw the line?” He stroked my lips, easing them apart, and forced a few swallows onto my tongue.
A rancid flavor like old bread and sun-rotted fish caused me to gag and splutter.
But soon, my eyes grew heavy, and the throbbing need eased.
My pulse slowed. I was vaguely aware that Bloodsinger was guiding me back onto the bed.
He scooped my legs in his arms and slid them beneath the mussed quilts.
He whispered something I didn’t hear. Then I fell into syrupy black.