Chapter 44 #2
The courtyard falls silent in that peculiar way only battlefields do when violence is seconds away. The only sound is that of our breathing. My blood thuds in my ears, loud and threatening.
Every moment, I remind myself: this isn’t just about my survival. It’s also hers… Moe’s. But every moment, doubts begin to plague me. What can I do to save us? How can we survive?
The hunters fan out through the entrance, spreading shoulder to shoulder until the passage disappears behind a wall of armed bodies. They’ve cornered us now completely.
The Tempest domain stands at the front of them, lightning whispering over his fingers as his gaze drifts leisurely across me, assessing the blood on my clothes, the bruises forming beneath my skin, the way my chest rises too quickly from exertion.
He knows I’m close to my breaking point.
His entire strategy is to drag this out, tire me before delivering the deadly blow.
Moe presses closer to my side. “Nyk…”
Her voice is quiet, but I hear the fear in it. It mirrors my own. Hopelessness forms in my chest. For the first time since we arrived in Aimaxion, I have no idea what to do, or if there’s anything to be done at all. Do we still have any chance at all?
Regret slams through me as I picture the moment we saw my name on the obelisk. Could I have done something else then? Hidden better? Or is it that anything I did would have resulted in the same outcome?
Three walls cage us in. Twenty men block the only exit. The surrounding stone is too high and too sheer to scale under pressure. Even if I break through the first row, the rest will simply close behind me.
There’s no escape.
The Tempest domain takes another step forward, his boots grinding against the broken stone beneath him.
“You’ve done well so far,” he says conversationally, as though we stand in a market discussing the weather rather than my imminent death. “Better than expected, frankly. We’re already on the second hour of the Culling. The others never lasted more than one hour.”
Moe and I share a look. So there’ve been others before me. It’s not that surprising considering how old Aimaxion seems to be, but the way this male is talking about it makes it seem like it’s a pretty common occurrence.
“Let’s see how much longer you can last.”
He flicks two fingers lazily and the males nearest him advance towards us.
So he plans to play with us until the time is almost out and then quickly deliver the killing blow.
As the first males come closer, I resume my fighting stance.
When a sword whistles toward my face, I parry with my forearm and drive my fist into the wielder’s jaw, then pivot into another attacker before he can capitalize.
My elbow crushes into his throat. A third grabs for my side and I twist away too late—steel bites into my ribs, shallow but hot.
I answer with a kick that caves his knee sideways and makes him wail in pain.
But for every one that drops to the ground, two more take their place.
In a place like Aimaxion, where everyone is fighting for their own survival, why would these fighters follow the commands of another.
Unless…
They must have arrangements: who they fight against, who they don’t. They’re gaming the system in a way.
A hammer nearly chops off my shoulder. A knife skids past my stomach, scratching me. Someone catches my ankle and nearly drags me down before I wrench it free.
Moe is not idle behind me. She hurls chunks of broken stone whenever someone gets too close, forcing them off balance long enough for me to finish them. Twice she shouts warnings that save me from attacks I never see coming.
Still, it is not enough. These lesser fighters keep coming in seemingly never-ending numbers.
The Tempest domain remains untouched at the back, watching with amusement as I struggle against his waves of minions.
Sometimes, he intervenes just enough to annoy me.
Like now.
A lightning bolt streaks toward me from over the shoulders of the crowd. Luckily, I spot it in time and I throw myself sideways. The blast shatters the stone where I stood and sends debris spraying into the air.
The impact draws my eye upward, to the walls. There’s something there, isn’t it? I squint to make sure.
A long crack runs through the leftmost wall. It’s deep and seemingly old. The entire structure leans subtly inward. That it’s still standing is pure luck.
An idea forms instantly; a very dangerous and messy idea that’s likely to get me crushed.
Still, it’s better than dying here and giving that male the satisfaction he so clearly craves.
Moe and I share a look. Understanding passes between us. As always, we don’t need words to communicate. We both see the same opportunity; the same risk. And we both agree to take it, regardless of the outcome.
“Moe,” I say, my eyes on the wall. “When I tell you, run to me.”
She immediately nods. “All right.”
I start retreating left. The hunters take the bait, pressing forward with renewed confidence as though they think I am finally faltering.
The Tempest domain narrows his eyes, sensing something amiss.
Too late.
I seize every shadow in the courtyard at once—the darkness beneath fallen bodies, beneath shattered stone, beneath the hunters themselves. They all surge upward in writhing ribbons.
Everyone gets ready to fight.
But instead of using my shadows to attack, I use them to conceal.
The shadows lay over the males’ faces, across their eyes and turns the entire front line into a stumbling mass of curses and confusion.
At the same time I drive my shoulder into the fractured wall with everything I have left.
Stone slowly shifts before it suddenly collapses.
The side of the courtyard explodes outward in a thunderous avalanche of rubble and dust. Massive chunks of stone crash down between us and the hunters, crushing the nearest few beneath them while the rest stumble backward in chaos.
“Moe, now!”
She runs.
I catch her hand and drag her through the breach just as lightning blasts apart the rubble behind us.
We burst into a narrow corridor choked with dust and darkness, stumbling over broken stone as the sounds of shouting erupt behind us.
“It won’t hold them for long!” Moe gasps.
“I know.”
We keep running.
My lungs burn raw. My side throbs with every step. Blood drips all over my skin beneath my torn shirt.
Eventually the shouting grows fainter and fainter until we can’t hear anyone following us.
We duck into the shell of a half-collapsed building and I slam myself against the wall. My chest heaves and every limb is trembling from exhaustion.
Moe shuts the broken doorway behind us as best she can and barricades it with a slab of fallen stone. Then she comes to sit by my side.
For several moments neither of us speaks.
We simply breathe.
Then she turns to me and her eyes widen with shock.
“Nyk…” She points to my chest.
I look down. Blood has soaked most of my shirt.
“Fuck,” I groan aloud.
“We need to last a bit longer,” she whispers in a small voice, almost pleading voice. “Can you hold on until then?”
I wipe blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and force my breathing steady.
“Yes. We’ve gotten to this point, I’m not letting this ruin everything,” I grit out.
Outside, distant shouts echo through the ruins as they search for us. The good news: they don’t know where we are for now. The bad? They don’t show any signs of slowing down or stopping.
I rest my head briefly against the cold stone behind me.
“What can I do to help?” Moe asks. “You’re not healing, Nyk.”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Unless I consume some energy, my wounds won’t heal.”
She purses her lips. “I can find someone to kill,” she offers immediately. “That way—” She’s already getting up when I stop her.
“We can’t afford to do that. Not only would it put you in danger, but it would reveal our location.”
“But, Nyk… They will find us. And when they do, I don’t think you can fight in this state.”
“We just need to last a little longer,” I murmur. With every word, the pain is more intense than before. Blood continues to flow out of my wounds.
Yet Moe is right in one aspect—I should have consumed some soul energy when I had the opportunity. Unfortunately, I can’t fight and do that at the same time. It’s been too chaotic for me to even think of that.
“I have an idea,” she says suddenly.
She shuffles closer, her upper body oriented toward me.
“I consumed all those parts of mythical beasts. I should have some type of energy.”
“Wait.” I put a hand up. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to kill you!” I say in outrage.
“No, no. I don’t mean killing me.”
“Explain yourself,” I demand.
She wets her lips before speaking carefully. “There was this one book I was reading. It was a forbidden romance novel between two immortals and they mentioned blood bonds. By exchanging blood, they could exchange energy, and even thoughts! ”
“That’s fiction, Moe,” I reply with a sigh.
“It’s not! This isn’t the first book that mentioned blood exchanges. Some even said that’s how mating bonds are triggered.”
“Mating bonds?” I blink. I’d heard about them, but only as a rare phenomenon that happened when two individuals were fated for one another.
“Yes. It all starts with a blood exchange. There has to be some truth to this, Nyk. Spiritual energy powers the soul and blood powers the body. I think there’s a connection between them.”
I mull over her words. “You’re saying that I could recharge my energy if I drink your blood.”
She nods effusively. “There is one issue, though. At least I think it is. It happened in this book.”
“What?”
“Once an immortal starts drinking blood, they cannot stop. They have to drink blood regularly otherwise their spiritual energy is cut in half.” She fidgets with her fingers as she speaks. “This is just what the book said, though. Maybe it was only a plot device?” She gives me a nervous smile.
“So it becomes akin to a drug.”
“In a sense.” She nods.
“If it works at all.”
“Yes.”
More sounds in the distance: footsteps getting closer and closer to us. At this point, we’re out of options.
“We can try it. If you don’t mind giving me some of your blood, that is.”
“Of course.” She immediately pulls her sleeve up and presents her wrist to me. “You have your knife, no?”
I nod and take out the small knife from my pocket. I wipe the blade on my pants first to get rid of the caked blood. But when it’s time to press the sharp edge onto her skin, I find that I’m unable to.
My hands tremble, and I keep looking at her, worried she might pull back at any moment.
“Give it to me,” she eventually says with a sigh. She grabs the knife from my useless hand and cuts a thin, clean line just above her wrist.
Blood immediately surfaces, and I lean forward, pressing my lips to the cut.
The taste is rich and slightly sweet—so different than my own blood. In fact, the more I suck on the wound, the more I note how fragrant and delicious it is.
I lose myself in the moment, my mind becoming a solid blank. The effects are immediate, though. Energy rushes through me, invigorating me and accelerating my healing.
But there is something else. My canines sharpen, elongating until they penetrate her skin, renewing the flow of blood.
“Ah,” Moe lets out a soft gasp. I nibble and drink in her essence.
Unwittingly, my body reacts, too. I’m hot and far too constrained by my own clothing. Everything seems like a boundary meant to stop me from advancing—from getting to her.
It’s hard to get myself to stop. But as I note the changes in myself, the way I’m slowly slipping into a state of madness and arousal, I wrench myself away.
But like an addict, I can’t help but come back to it, licking every residual drop. But as I swirl my tongue around her flesh, I’m surprised to see it closing on its own.
“Are you alright?” I ask at last, a little embarrassed by my reaction.
She’s flushed, her head tilted to the side, her eyes closed. She squirms in her seat, shifting closer until she’s sitting on my lap.
She’s so close that any moment now she could feel just how much the taste of her blood affected me.
“Yes…” she answers in a breathless voice. “I—” She wets her lips as she slowly pries her eyes open.
Her eyes sparkle with warmth and something more. Something—
She reaches for me, her hand curving alongside my jaw.
“Nyk...”
My heart thuds in my chest. Despite the danger, or maybe because of it, adrenaline surges through my veins.
Is this…fuck or flight response? Because I’m still primed for danger, but my cock is hard and straining against my pants, ready to fight its way through anything just to get into her warm depths.
“Moe,” I rasp her name, reaching for the nape of her neck and bringing her flush against me.
Our eyes meet. One second; that’s all it takes to see the conviction in her gaze.
The next, our lips are pressed together in a hurried dance as we try to capitalize on the moment.
Taste, feel, savor: we try to do all three at once.
But time is limited. Our lives are limited. Right now is all we have.
She ends up in my lap, one leg on each side of me as she wraps her arms around my neck. I keep one arm around her waist and the other at her nape, caging her in.
She squirms and rubs herself on top of me as if she can’t get enough.
Fuck! I can’t get enough either.
I lick the seam of her lips, prying her mouth open so I can taste all of her. She doesn’t even fight. Her hands end up in my hair, pulling on my scalp as she deepens the kiss, using her tongue to duel with my own.
We rock back and forth as the kiss becomes rougher, more primal. Her grip is almost painful as she bites and scratches my lips with her teeth. It’s almost as if she’s trying to devour me.
That enthusiasm in turn fuels my own and makes me forget all about my wish to be gentle with her. Want responds to want; desire to desire. The more she pushes the boundaries, the easier it is for me to let myself go.
We’re both so wrapped in each other and this moment that the outside world dims.
But the Culling continues. And the Tempest domain male is not the only one searching for me.
“Fuck,” I mutter against her lips as I slightly pull her back.
She blinks furiously, her cheeks red, her eyes filled with confusion.
“Someone’s here.”