73. Ayres
Ayres looked at his chest in the mirror, over the tattoos that covered his skin after he’d accepted the oath to be the Death Harbinger.
Only Marras knew how much he hated them.
Marras’s body, donned in her usual gray robes, had been the first thing that appeared on his chest after he’d accepted the Death Harbinger ability from his father. In the following weeks,swirling more black ink started swirled out around her, spreading her art on him farther and farther across his skin. The tattoos now claimed almost every free inch of skin on his upper body besides his face.
He hated them. Hated the skulls, the bones, the shadows, the beautiful faces, the flowers, the symbols, the soldiers on his back telling the world of Sakar Sumavari’s demise in Sumavari’s War—he hated them all. Ayres’s prison of black ink covered almost every inch of his skin and told the story of past mistakes, warning him of what would happen if he failed in his duties.
His duties. Death.
Marras help him, it was fucking miserable.
But today, seeing how Rorax had reacted to his tattoos up close . . . hearing her say again that she liked them, seeing how it had made her nipples hard, the contrast of Rorax’s little pink tongue against his tanned and tattooed flesh as she licked over the water droplets on his chest, sliding up his collarbone . . .
Ayres rubbed the back of his shoulders with both hands. Fuck that had been hot. Even half dead, Ayres had wanted that pink little tongue to stay on him. He wanted it lower tracing the gutters of his abdominal muscles down until she was low enough to curl that little tongue around his cock.
She had the most perfect little body he had ever seen in his life. Rorax trained every day for hours, had been training for years like that, and the result was lean muscle all over her body that he wanted to put his hands on, to knead and touch. Her breasts, gods above, seeing her in just her wet underclothes today had given him just about a perfect view of her tits. He was going to think about her in his fantasies for the rest of his fucking life.
Without thinking, he lashed out and struck the mirror with his fist, breaking the glass. It cut deep into his knuckles, spreading crimson droplets over the fragments of mirror where it shattered.
He stared at his reflection above where he’d struck and seethed at himself with pain and rage.
Why?
Why was it her that made him forget his curse?
Why was it always her that made him like the parts of himself he usually hated? Why was she the one who had made him feel so seen?
Neat trick, she had said when she saw his power in Helfast. That’s it. She had been a hair away from death at the time . . . but neat trick? That’s it?
It made him sick that she had this . . . hold on him. A hold he couldn’t shake. A hold that he wanted and craved. He wanted her attention. Somewhere deep down in him he was looking forward to the next time a Contestar died, and he’d have to pin her down and make her wet . . . He wanted to taste that pretty pink mouth again.
He stalked out of his bathroom, pulling a shirt over his head as he stood next to his bed Rorax was currently passed out in. The healer had left an hour ago with the diagnosis. Rorax had been poisoned.
Pathetic. He had called her pathetic this morning even after she’d woken up and come to training after being poisoned.
He ran a hand over his short, cropped hair. Ayres owed her an apology for a fistful of things, but the minute she opened her eyes he’d tell her he was sorry, and that he was an ass.
Cannon, Kaiya, and Jia had all just left to track another summoning. It was Ayres’s turn to go, but Cannon took one look at his face and shook his head.
You’ll be too distracted. Stay with her. Find out what happened, his oldest friend had signed to him.
Ayres didn’t know what could be worse, being away without any word on her condition, or being here, stuck watching her, waiting, and wondering if she was going to survive.
And for the gods’ sake, this was the fucking Pup.
It shouldn’t even have been an issue. He should be thankful someone else was taking care of her, killing her off so he wouldn’t have to at the end of this.
Kiniera had come to see Rorax as well, assuring him that the poison the healer had extracted from her veins was something Heilstorms built an immunity to in their hellish training. It’d been a substance Rorax had already been exposed to numerous times, so it wouldn’t be fatal for her if treated correctly.
But Rorax still hadn’t stirred. Hadn’t even moved. She was barely breathing, and she laid there like she was dead, so still, and motionless like the soul had been ripped from her and—
Ayres wrenched himself out of his panicked thoughts and jerked himself to his feet. He moved to the empty fireplace and placed both palms on the mantle, leaning into them and forcing himself to take in a few steadying breaths through his nose.
Something was happening to him. Something he didn’t like, something he couldn’t control, something that . . . scared him. She scared him. He was starting to care about her.
There was a soft knock at the door, and he recognized the light steps as Milla walked into the room.
“Oh my,” she breathed, rushing to the side of Rorax’s bed. “I just heard from Piers that she’d been poisoned.”
Ayres flexed his jaw.
Milla looked over her shoulder at him. “Do you have any idea who did it?”
The reminder that not only had she been poisoned, but whoever poisoned his Contestar was still breathing made more anger pool in his chest, and his grip on the wooden mantle got tighter.
“No. No one has any clue. She might know but hasn’t opened her eyes since this morning.”
“Oh,” Milla mumbled. She took a few steps closer to Ayres and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ayres, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he growled, but he wasn’t. He was so far from fine he wasn’t even sure what that looked like for him anymore.
She squeezed his arm tightly. “Ayres. This isn’t your fault.”
His jaw felt tight. It was. It was all his fault. Rorax had been in his care for nearly three moons and not once had she ever complained or been late to a training session. He should have known something was wrong.
“I’ll talk to Kiniera. See if she has any leads. I want to work together with her on this. We will find out who did this, Ayres.”
He nodded, finally releasing the mantle, and standing up straight to face her. “Thank you.”
Milla nodded, looking up at him with something that looked like pity. He smothered a snarl as she patted his arm.
“You’re allowed to like her, Ayres. You know that, right?”
He blinked, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.
She gave him a sad, knowing smile. “I’m just saying . . . if you want her to be with you after the Choosing . . . tell her.”
Ayres ground his molars together as he glowered down at Milla. It was so easy for her to say such things. Milla wouldn”t be the one killing Rorax at the end of this if they couldn”t free her. It would most likely be him, and any feelings he had for Rorax would make that job even more difficult than it already was.
“Just think about it.” Milla smirked at him before turning and walking out of the room without another word.