Chapter Twenty-One #2
“I can feel your heart beating right here,” he whispered, unintentionally blowing hot air onto that spot.
“Mmm…”
“Is it all right if I…” He swallowed heavily. “If I eat you?”
She nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see her.
He reached for her right hand and placed it atop his head.
“Guide me. Pull at my hair if I’m doing something wrong.”
Oh, he could do no wrong.
Seraphina pressed his face down, and his tongue dipped between her folds again.
He lapped at her, licked her clean, then explored her entrance with just the tip, coaxing her into giving him more.
Her muscles contracted, and she felt herself gush right into his mouth.
He groaned low and deep, swallowed, and pushed further inside. Her eyes rolled into her head.
She opened her legs wide. He placed a hand under her bottom and lifted her up, pushed his tongue deeper into her pussy, making her flutter around him.
She was close, yet something was missing.
Even if she could’ve talked, she wouldn’t have known what to ask for.
Her body reacted on its own, her other hand reaching down to rub the bundle of nerves that had been left ignored.
The first brush of her fingers made her whimper and arch her back, then she felt Rune’s hand on hers, pushing her away, his thumb pressing just on the left side of her nub, where the sensation was most intense.
Seraphina sobbed.
He was relentless. His tongue moving in and out of her pussy, his thumb drawing circles around her clitoris, flicking and rubbing it.
He paid attention to her reactions and the sounds she made, drawing her closer and closer to the edge of a cliff.
Her fingers tightened in his hair. She arched her back so far off the mattress that only her head and heels still made contact with it.
Rune was keeping her anchored, with his mouth and his hands…
A scream tore from her throat. She was vaguely aware that it didn’t sound pretty at all, more like she was in pain and begging for death.
Her body came apart, her muscles tense and her eyes scrunched shut.
Warm liquid poured out of her; she didn’t know why something like that was happening.
It was shameful, she should’ve held it back, but she couldn’t.
She tried to draw away from Rune, but he gripped her hard, his fingers leaving marks into her flesh.
He growled and drank her as if he’d been thirsty all this time and water hadn’t satisfied him.
Minutes after, she was still shaking. Every time she thought it had passed, another shudder rippled through her. Sweat had gathered in the dip of her clavicle.
Rune climbed up her body and brushed his fingers over her face.
“Was that good for you?” he asked.
She nodded. Her eyes fell to his lips, which were glistening with her juices.
Blood rushed to her face, making her burn hot.
She wanted to apologize, tell him he shouldn’t have swallowed.
It must’ve tasted awful. She would’ve licked his lips to find out for herself, but such as things were, all she could do was let shame scorch her.
“Will you let me do that again? Later…”
She had to look away from his face.
He lay down beside her and gathered her in his arms. They stayed like that for a while, hands roaming over each other, fingers meeting to entangle and disentangle, lips and noses brushing.
“How did you get here?” he asked in a contemplative tone. “Did you travel alone? It’s dangerous out there. The snowstorm… I hope you found shelter.”
She nuzzled his neck. She had so much to tell him. She felt sleepy and content, wrapped up in him.
“Briar brought me here, but you probably know that. You figured it out, that’s why you came.
She was good to me. Better than I deserve.
I’m afraid I wasn’t good to her at all. More of a burden and a nuisance.
She tried to teach me how to use your walking stick to navigate, but I was so stubborn.
Her mother is a lovely woman, though she doesn’t speak.
She let me stay here and helped me through…
a tough moment. I’m not proud of myself, Seraphina.
Of the things I’ve done, of what I put Briar through.
She should’ve left me behind so many times.
She believes I’m good for something, but I keep telling her… like I keep telling you. I’m not.”
She poked him in the chest in a sign of protest.
He didn’t get the message.
“All I am is ruin.”
She pressed her lips to his to shut him up.
“And sorrow,” he whispered between her insistent kisses.
The fire in the hearth shrunk to embers, the house turned cold, and Rune got up to throw more logs in.
Seraphina dressed herself and went looking for food.
There was plenty of it, as the nuns had made sure Sister Margaret had all she needed, but unfortunately, all she could eat was soup, and even that proved to be messy.
Seraphina wondered if she should go down to the convent.
It was unpleasant to accept, but she felt weak and frightened.
She’d put on a spectacle earlier, using the apex relic carelessly, and with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she could admit that she’d sort of gotten what she deserved.
She wondered if the sea shanty was still going.
The sun dipped over the horizon, and then it was too late to leave.
The gate would be locked for the night, and the stupid bell was broken again.
It always broke in winter, and the sisters only deigned to fix it in spring.
She and Rune sat by the hearth, playing with each other’s hands.
He told her about his and Briar’s journey here, something about diving into a frozen lake and Briar catching a cold because of it, but she didn’t understand why they’d done that, or why Rune felt guilty about it.
Her eyes were heavy. She couldn’t pay attention anymore.
Rune carried her to bed, tucked her in, and wrapped himself around her.
It was warm – almost unbearably so – the rhythm of his heart was soothing, and as she fell asleep, for once she didn’t think about the nightmares that awaited her.
He was there, he would wake her, she’d cling to him, and she’d know she was safe.
Because he was real, and the nightmares were not.
It must’ve been hours later, past midnight, when they were roused by loud banging on the door. Rune jumped to his feet, and Seraphina reached for the daggers she’d left on the bedside table.
“Seraphina!” Idris’s voice.
She took Rune’s hand in hers to calm him down.
Together, they went to open the door. Idris was standing in the dark, clothes disheveled and cloak torn from where a branch must’ve caught it.
She saw the atlas vertebra still on the chain around his neck.
He hadn’t given it back, which meant the Mother Superior hadn’t asked for it. Strange.
“The convent is being attacked. They approached in the night, men and women, climbed over the walls. They don’t look like the Harvester’s army. It’s chaos down there. I didn’t know what to do. I’m not a fighter.”
He looked up at Rune, and Seraphina knew. Idris had come for him.
“I know there’s another way,” he said in a lower, tenser voice. “But I don’t think it would be fair to Nine.”
No, it wouldn’t be.
He stepped over the threshold and pulled a bundle out of his pocket.
“I brought these.”
He unfastened it, and Seraphina saw two perfect eyeballs, the irises gold and faintly glowing. Her visceral reaction must’ve shown on her face, because Idris grimaced.
“The boys’ have gone bad. The tissue is damaged.”
Not green, then. She’d have to stare into gold. These were the Sentinel’s eyes, which Idris had removed in a hurry before coming here. Smart. In battle, a blind revenant could do more harm than good for the side he was on.
Seraphina nodded. She didn’t feel good about it, but it was better than nothing. Rune had to see. Not only to help the nuns; he simply had to see.
As Idris unfurled his emergency kit on the table, she led Rune to a chair. She nudged Idris to explain to him what was going to happen.
“I’m Idris,” he said. “Seraphina and I studied together at Kr?henstein Academy. I’m a member of the Sarumite Order, like her, a naturalist and a surgeon. I implanted her eyes, and now I have two for you.”
“Whose?” Rune asked.
“They belonged to someone…” He cleared his throat. “Someone we used to know.”
That reminded Seraphina. The ledger was in the bedroom, and it was time for her to face it.
She made sure Rune was all right and Idris had all he needed, then took the heavy book, sat with it in her lap, and read it from cover to cover, her finger moving down the endless lists of body parts that had been used to build the twelve Constructs – five hadn’t made it – and twenty Sentinels.
Matteo’s name was mentioned often. She found pen and paper, and started taking notes.
She’d meant it when she’d said she wanted to give Matteo a proper burial. She wrote down where each part of him was. Rune only had his hands, but Construct Eleven had more that had belonged to him. As for Sentinel Nine, Matteo’s right lung was inside him.
She filled the piece of paper, folded it and placed it between the pages of Matteo’s journal.
Under the bed, Seraphina found a small chest with knickknacks – Sister Margaret’s personal belongings.
If she trusted someone with this ledger, that was Briar, and by extension, her mother.
She hid it at the bottom, covered it with ribbons and old letters, and pushed the chest to the very back, against the wall.
She didn’t know what was going to happen, who and why had attacked the convent in the night.
For now, this was the best she could do.
She got her cloak and Rune’s and returned to the front room.
Rune looked up as she entered. Blue eyes met eerie gold, and Seraphina pressed a hand to her chest and stumbled back. She blinked fast to keep her tears at bay.
It wasn’t him anymore. She knew it was absurd, but the Sentinel’s eyes made him look like a complete stranger. She’d been afraid of this.
He stood up and walked toward her. When he brushed his fingers over her cheek, she almost flinched. It was subtle; she prayed he hadn’t noticed.
“You’re as beautiful as I remembered.”
She bit her lower lip and tried to smile.
He smiled back. They were looking at each other for the first time, yet it was tainted.
All she could see was the torment in Nine’s eyes as he begged her and Idris to find a way to end him.
Those last moments when she’d held his hand, the last look he gave her before he spent his final breath.
She saw through those very eyes every time she fell asleep, and the relic’s toll transported her in his body, in his mind, and forced her to experience the manipulation she’d inflicted on him.
In those nightmares, she was the one lying on the operating table, Idris cutting and pulling, cracking her open while she silently endured the agony, unable to move because her own command had made her submit.
She was the one dying, behind those golden eyes, as she stared into her own blue.
“We must go,” Idris said.
Seraphina took Rune’s hand, and her mind was somewhat appeased. She knew his hands. Once Matteo’s, now his, these were hands she loved. She’d focus on that.