Chapter 36
Ambrose threw himself back. His breathing was heavy as his heart pounded in his chest. In his mind, 465 years had passed. His entire life. But in reality, it was but a moment. A moment of pain and anguish and joy and love. And want.
Sweat licked his brow, a droplet ran down his back, and tears pricked his eyes. It was . . . so much.
And he was so ashamed.
“You’re so afraid,” Lila whispered, a voice soft like the petal of a flower. As he stared at his feet, he heard her slump onto the makeshift bed, the hay squishing beneath her.
He was. He was afraid. Now that she’d seen everything, now that she’d seen the truth of him, his nature, his desires—what if she no longer wanted him? What if she was afraid of him?
Ambrose clenched his fists. This was Lila. She loved him. She wanted all of him, as he wanted all of her. Even if she were afraid or angry or upset, they would find a way to overcome it.
Wouldn’t they?
He peeked up at her through long lashes. The colors of emotion swaying around her made him freeze to the spot.
She was . . . so sad. Tears streamed down her pink cheeks, the tip of her nose a ruddy red. She was shaking, and her fists were clenched.
But she wasn’t afraid.
Not at all.
She was so . . . devastated, sympathetic. Sad and angry and resilient and protective and . . . love.
The breath knotted in Ambrose’s chest came loose, and his feet moved of their own accord till he was kneeling before her.
“You have been through so much,” she breathed as he took her hand. “And you . . . were so alone.”
He placed his hand on her cheek and brought her face to meet his gaze. “Until you.”
She threw her arms around his neck, falling into him. “You don’t have to be afraid, Ambrose. I—” she took a deep breath, tickling his neck. “I didn’t think I was strong enough for you. I didn’t know if you could deal with being with someone so weak. But, your history just makes me sure now, you have made me strong. You have made me resilient and you have given me the power to overcome the traumas of my past. And I want to do the same for you. You can feel the sun now whenever you want. You can be a monster with me. You can drink from me—”
“I can’t—I’ll only hurt you,” he choked out. He hadn’t realized it, but he was holding her so tightly, pressing her to him. Tears spilled from his eyes, down his cheeks, a sob lodged in his throat, threatening to break free.
Lila pulled back from him, hands gripping his shoulders tight, saying I’m here.
“No. You won’t. Look, you did what you were afraid of—you hurt me while being rough. And look, really. I’m fine—we’re fine. I don’t have any lasting mark, no wound. And, Ambrose . . . I liked it. I wanted you to take me like an animal. I was grossly underprepared, but that is not your fault. I want you to claim every part of me, every hole in my body, just as you’ve claimed every hole in my heart. I want you to spank me. I want you to torture me. To ruin me. To take me where you shouldn’t. To make me scream in a room full of people. I want you to make me bleed, Ambrose Draven, and then I want you to devour me the same way you did under the stars. I am not afraid of your bite. And I never have been.”
Lila pouted, letting her words sink in. Then, a streak of something powerful colored her emotions, an orange and red, so bright it was nearly blinding.
“In fact, I want you to bite me. Right now. In this room.”
For the first time since Lila arrived, it dawned on him that they were in her room. In her space of trauma and fear or torment.
“Bite me as I show you my memories. Bite me, and take away the sting of this place. And then make it ours.”
Ambrose swallowed. “I’ll wait,” he uttered hoarsely, heart beating so loud, he felt it’d burst from his chest. “I’ll wait till just before you show me, and just as you come back—just as we come back, I’ll fill you with my venom, and then we will make this room—the whole damned Viper Morada—into something beautiful. Into something ours.”
Lila nodded, clutching him tighter. “Does it hurt?”
“My bite? You tell me,” he smirked.
Lila huffed a laugh. “No, goof. The memories. The finishing of a bargain.”
His hand circled her waist. “They hurt as much as the memories felt. But for physical pain, no. Though, the tattoo you love so much will be gone.”
She smiled sadly. “I’m sure we can get me another soon.”
Ambrose tentatively pulled her up from the bed, bringing her close.
“Are you sure?” But he was already breathing her in, kissing her jaw. If she changed her mind, he would respect it. He would never bite her again if she asked.
“I am. I like your bite. It is a part of you.”
His breathing was shallow. So many fears crossed his mind. What if he couldn’t stop? What if he hurt her again?
But the fear silenced when Lila cupped his face between her small hands. She forced him to look at her, and whispered, “Ask me.” Then, she lifted his chin, bent down, and licked his neck.
Ambrose moaned, surprising himself. Though, it wasn’t a moan of lust, but of release. Of letting the weight on his back loosen. “Bite me,” she begged, and then she nibbled those blunt teeth into his skin, his pulse. Ambrose shuddered, from head to toe. She was biting him.
His knees gave out from under him. He slumped to the floor, head swaying. She was freeing him, breaking the shackles on his mind, on his heart, with each torturous act. Lila followed him down, crawling onto his lap and hovering over him.
You know I am yours,she began through the Concord. I have given every part of myself to you, time and time again. Now, Ambrose . . . “Prove you are mine,” she said aloud.
Ambrose wasn’t sure if it was her words, the pupils overtaking her irises, or the fact that it was a demand from his queen, but the invisible chains finally snapped.
He leaned into her, cupping the back of Lila’s neck with one hand as she threw her head back, and pulling her waist to him with the other. He breathed her in, his lips grazing over the column of her neck, slowly brushing himself against her soft skin, till his lips were at the base of her throat. He kissed her, sucking her skin into his mouth. “I ask for a favor, love,” he breathed, a shudder overcoming him once more, “show me, everything.”
And with his lips hovering just above her neck, sitting on the floor of her old room, her cheek brushing the soft white strands of his hair—she did.
The last thing Ambrose heard was Lila’s gasp as his fangs dove into her skin and his mind fell into her memories.
Pain sparked on her neck, her wrists, her arms, her feet, her inner thighs—all places she had been bitten by Hektor and Ciro. Fear for her brother, would they kill him today? Would they kill her?
She was always so cold—not her body, but her mind.
What if they took her today? What if Hektor forced himself on her? What if Ciro snapped and stole her away to his bedroom.
Days, months, years.
She went from being just a girl to a woman.
And they noticed.
Her breasts were ogled at, her ass was grabbed.
But still her neck, her wrists, her thighs were bitten.
Fear and torment—am I worth anything more than blood? she’d think, over and over again. She was a murine, a rat, a slave, and nothing more.
Something to be consumed.
Then, more fear. Her brother was gone. She was so alone.
She needed to find him, make sure he was safe.
The Crow Lord. He was salvation. He was the only chance.
And then Ambrose Draven walked in from the dark, hand in hand with the shadows, and he brought that darkness to her. He brought it, so she no longer had to fear it. The stars in the night sky, or the full moon—yes, he was like a moon. A beacon, a guide, a salvation.
Slashes down her back, death surrounding her, forcing her body to act against her will, and then—that voice; that voice like liquid gold.
Salvation.
Flight and magic and wonder and love and friendship and—dare she think it? Home.
He had given her everything, had given her hope once more, had given her life—a reason to keep fighting, a reason to live, a reason to be more than a murine.
She could face them. She could stop them.
Back in her prison. Back in her cell. Hektor’s touch on her breasts, her bare before them. Ciro watching her bathe. Rebekkah becoming a friend. Rebekkah being her only solace. Rebekkah giving her safety from pregnancies.
Drusilla was here. Bodies. Blood and murine and Hektor’s eyes watching her. She’s between them, being drained and came on. Being tortured as others laugh and get off. Touches, glances, more bites, more pain, more anguish—but through it all, power. Through it all, Ambrose.
She loved him. She needed to tell him, and show him, and be with him. She wanted him to have her, to make sure he took her before Hektor did—before Ciro did.
The town she lived in, dark and eerie. Strigoi. Screams and fear and so much pain. But power. She burned Ciro. She burned Hektor.
And it wasn’t enough.
Three months. Three months of constant fear. Three months of sowing doubt. Three months away from the light of her life.
Crack, crack, goes the whip. Her heart, burned in the pyre. A shimmer of gold. A collar.
And then, nothing.
Ambrose pulled his teeth from her neck, slumping back. His entire body was quaking in the mixed emotions of her dreadful fear and his horrid anger. There was so much. So much she’d endured. So much she hadn’t told him. And he couldn’t fault her for any of it. For if she had, he would have gone to kill them all. He would have stolen her from this place and forced her to come home, regardless of her plans, despite her wants.
“Ambrose?” Lila slumped into him, resting her head on his sternum.
It was only then that he realized he’d shifted. He’d become the hulking beast, too large for this room. His dark brown skin shifted into the deep charcoal gray, his size increased, his wings splayed behind him. And he held her, entrapped her, in his embrace.
Hektor had touched her. The feelings, her fear, her discomfort, her disdain, it all settled into his bones, into his heart. Ambrose had seen through Lila’s eyes, saw the heady, hungry, obnoxious look on Hektor’s face as he fucked Drusilla, keeping his eyes on Lila. Almost as if he were pretending he were fucking her. He’d flicked her nipple. He’d cornered her time and time again. He’d tasted her orgasm that Ambrose had given her through the Concord. He fucking stole it.
And the tonic Rebekkah had given her . . . the fear Lila had felt of the very real possibility of being raped. He hadn’t known how dire things had become. Which was stupid. He should’ve known the moment he saw her in that sheer thing of a dress.
Ambrose had felt anger. He had felt violence and rage and murderous determination.
This was different.
This was so much more.
Ambrose stood up and—somehow even in his anger—gently placed Lila on the stone floor. His jaw was clenched. His knuckles felt as though the bone might burst from skin with how tightly he held his fists.
Hektor touched her.
“I’m going to fucking rip his cock off and shove it down his throat. I’m going to kill him for touching you, for touching what’s mine, for touching what is yours.”