Four A Sacred Kill
FOUR
A Sacred Kill
I
Nora would make the Hesperine pay for every sound of pleasure he had dragged out of her with his unholy hands.
She fastened her scabbard, then straightened her gold and white festival gown. She’d been wearing this at the ceremony when the Order had bestowed Arceo upon her father. And when Dav’s brother had killed her parents before her eyes.
Tonight, she would not forget who she was.
She threw back the blankets on the ancestral bed. The lady of Gloria’s chamber was her rightful place, and she would dedicate tonight’s kill to the righteous women of her line. She was hardly the first who’d had her bedchamber invaded by a Hesperine. It was on record that one noble widow had slain her would-be seducer and been elevated to dame for her feat.
Nora stoked the fire, the element that was every Hesperine’s nemesis. Her poker was in easy reach, as were the torches she had placed in brackets around the room. Her chamber was devoid of Hesperine-detecting relics and full of extra weapons she could rely on if anything went wrong.
She had almost failed last night. She had come within an inch of giving herself to that creature.
But tonight, she was ready. She would slay not only her family’s enemy, but her personal monster.
His presence seemed to fill the room, then he melted out of the shadows beyond the glow of the hearth. “Did Sir Virtus try anything during the day?”
“He still has no idea you’re here.”
Dav’s nostrils flared. He stalked toward her, his expression dangerous. Nora’s heart jumped, but she stood her ground.
His fangs flashed as he spoke. “He harmed you again.”
“That is none of your affair. I am here for the tribute, aren’t I?”
The firelight played across Dav’s tawny skin, and in its wild light, she could almost imagine his face softened. “Nora, I can smell that you’re still bleeding. I could heal that for you as I did the cut on your hand.”
“ No .” She retreated toward the fire, covering her upper arm with her hand. “Ask for my throat again. Or we can negotiate other places where you may take the tribute. But keep away from my arms.”
To her astonishment, he offered her a bow. “Understood. I will respect that at all times.”
She hesitated, her whole body humming with tension.
“Your arms are not up for debate,” he said.
She eased toward him again. “Then where do you intend to drink from me tonight?”
“There’s something I’d like to show you first.” He gestured to the scroll under his arm. “You have my word that it contains no harmful magic. It’s a history text I ran across in the tower. Another Hesperine left it behind, perhaps as a gift for the next homesick wanderer.”
So more heresy lessons were what he had in mind. Well, a history text didn’t sound seductive in the least. If it would give her a reprieve from his other means of persuasion, she would go along with this.
She crossed to her worktable and shuffled her clutter to clear a space in the chaos. “Put it here then.”
He joined her, his gaze falling to her drawings. Suddenly she regretted not hiding them before he had come. Having his eyes on her diagrams made her feel naked in a way even last night’s transgressions had not.
“Is this your work?” he asked.
“Yes.” No use in denying it. Her obsession earned her enough scorn from mortals. She could withstand some mockery from a Hesperine.
The censure and everything else would disappear the next time she picked up her quill. It was so easy to get lost in her work for hours, utterly focused on measurements and materials, unaware of the world around her.
“Your mathematics are so precise.” He tilted his head, studying her plan for a new tower. “And your illustrations are beautiful.”
She started gathering up her sketches. Let him use anything else to flatter his way into her bed. Not this.
“I am no expert,” he said, “but these are very impressive to me. Are there any options for women to become professional architects in Tenebra?”
“Ha, ha.” She rolled up the large sheets of parchment and stowed them under the table.
He unrolled his scroll. “This is an illustration of one of Orthros’s cities.”
Nora stood back, not looking at the page. “I have seen the Order’s illustrations of your den, thank you.”
Dav arched a brow. “How can those portrayals be accurate? Have any of the knights ever been there?”
“No, because no Tenebran who goes to Orthros ever returns to tell the tale.”
“That’s because they prefer to stay.” He gestured to the open scroll. “Is it hard to understand why?”
If Nora’s convictions could not survive the temptation of one architecture illustration, it did not bode well for her efforts to resist his touch later. She went forward and looked at his godsforsaken drawing.
Her expectations crumbled. The exquisite painting portrayed a city of palaces topped with majestic domes. Pointed arches graced covered portals with vaulted, honeycombed ceilings, and vibrant mosaics adorned every surface. She could never have imagined the elaborate designs in her wildest dreams…but someone had.
She didn’t know if she believed this could be a real place, but even if it weren’t, this beautiful dream had come from a Hesperine’s mind and hands.
“This city was designed by Firstblood Yasamin,” Dav said. “She is one of our greatest architects, the founder of the Yasamini movement.”
“She invented her own architectural style?” All of this…had come from a wom an’s mind.
Was he lying? Most likely not. Hesperines worshiped a goddess and let females fornicate with whomever they pleased. Why not let them be architects, too?
“This is my favorite city in the world,” Dav said. “The architecture draws inspiration from the human land where both Yasamin and I began our mortal lives. Granted, she is a thousand years older than me.”
That finally tore Nora’s gaze away from the unfairly beautiful illustration. For the first time, she looked into Dav’s ethereal face and tried to see the human he had once been. “You say Hesperines don’t force humans to transform. Does that mean you chose this life?”
“Yes.” A shadow passed over his expression. “My brother and I came from a family of physicians in the Empire. I specialized in mind healing and he in physical healing. After my service in the Imperial Army treating soldiers’ mental wounds, I…needed a change. We went to Orthros together to study with the Hesperines and decided to stay.”
“The Empire?” She gaped.
He caught hold of her fingers, and the sudden touch sent a little shock through her. He spread her pale hand out upon his broad, brown one. “Couldn’t you tell?”
“I assumed you were from Cordium, to the south of here.”
He huffed. “Do I seem like a pompous, superstitious cleric from the Magelands?”
“N-no.” The smooth warmth of his skin reminded her how his hand had felt elsewhere. Oh gods, why couldn’t he have felt cold and clammy, as Hesperines were supposed to? “I’ve heard of the Empire across the sea, but I thought it was only a tale.”
He gave her a bemused look. “It was quite real when I visited last year. The Empire has an alliance with Orthros, and people travel freely between for trade and education.”
“So you chose to become a heretic so you could…study?”
“Can’t fathom me giving up my soul for my books, can you?”
“Surely there was something in your mortal life you wanted to stay for.”
“My time as a human taught me that no matter how much we learn about the mind, it is still the most mysterious frontier of exploration. It will take us Hesperine lifetimes to learn how to truly heal such a complex part of ourselves. I want to be a part of that research. Don’t you think it would take you centuries to learn everything there is to know about every architectural style in the world?”
She pulled her hand away.
Dav brushed his fingers across her temple. “Imagine. You could study with Yasamin herself and be admired for your expertise in architecture.”
Nora’s chest ached.
He tugged at a curl that was trying to escape her hair veil. “You could design and construct your own monuments that would stand for centuries. Generations of students would know your name.”
In that moment, she hated the Hesperines more than she ever had.
The curl sprang free, and Dav ran the tendril of her hair through his fingers. “Imagine if you could sit for hours, dreaming up your next project and sketching construction plans, with no one to interrupt or reprove you.”
Immortality…power…none of those things tempted her. But this?
What a fool she was, to think of giving up her soul for such a simple thing.
“Imagine…” he began.
She couldn’t bear to hear any more. Somehow, she had to silence his alluring voice, put a stop to these words so perfectly aimed at her heart.
He lowered his head toward her to murmur in her ear. “Imagine a male who finds your fixation on architecture one of the most beautiful things about y—”
She cut him off by covering his treacherous mouth with her own. She held his face in her hands and punished him for his words with her kiss.
He leaned into the rough strokes of her lips, his beard scraping her chin. Then he opened for her, and she fell, invading his mouth before she could catch herself.
Their tongues clashed, and every fiber of her being sang with their anger. His mouth gave her no mercy, hot and hard and overwhelming. His fangs pricked her. She bit back, taking his full lower lip between her teeth.
He closed his arm around her waist, locking her against him. Cupping the back of her head in his implacable hand, he tilted her face up and kissed her harder.
This was nothing like the one polite, hapless kiss of her life, which had gotten her into such deep trouble. She was in much greater trouble now.
Her arm stung, but he didn’t put his hands anywhere near it. He gripped her buttock and squeezed through her skirts. She braced her hands on his shoulders to push him off of her, but found herself digging her nails into him instead.
When he tore his mouth away, she heaved a breath. “Nora,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Offer me your throat again—on the bed this time.”
The air filling her lungs restored some coherent thought. She realized she had him right where she wanted him. One more drink of the poison, and he wouldn’t have the strength to hold her like this ever again. She pushed him toward the bed, preempting any negotiation with more kisses.
When the back of his knees hit the mattress, triumph glinted in his eyes. “Can you deny you want me under you?”
“I cannot.” She could scarcely believe these words were coming out of her mouth. But it was all according to plan, she reminded herself. “I’m offering to ride you while you drink from me.”
“This isn’t the Drink any longer. This is what we call the Feast.” He unfastened his high-collared robe, revealing his own throat. Then the golden-brown contours of his chest and torso, accentuated by black hair. He shrugged the robe off his broad shoulders.
A strange longing filled her as her gaze swept down his muscular arms. She could tell by his strength that he had once been a soldier. But not a scar blemished his immortal body.
He stretched out on the bed, half reclining against the pillows. Her mouth watered, as if she too were a bloodthirsty heretic.
There was no husband in her future. This was the only time she would ever share this bed with anyone. She had this one opportunity to discover what it felt like. And no one would ever know what had happened in this room.
As long as she kept her maidenhead, she wouldn’t betray the promise she’d made to herself.
She drew her skirts up, careful to gather plenty of fabric to cushion the scabbard. What a dangerous game she was playing. A rush coursed through her limbs as she climbed onto the bed with him.
She slid her leg over him, straddling his lap. His thighs were hard under hers. She rested her hands on his bare chest for balance, positioning herself. He would not feel the smooth leather strap on the inside of her thigh through this much clothing.
“You may not touch my thighs,” she informed him. “I will offer you other places for your hands.”
“Will you, now? I cannot wait to find out where.”
She reached up and began to remove her veil. His heated gaze tracked each pin she plucked out. No one had ever looked at her like this, as if her every move mesmerized him. She had him in her thrall.
“I’m offering you my hair.” She tossed her veil aside and shook out her curls. As she leaned down over him, he reached up to bury both hands in her mane. The feeling of his fingers on her scalp sent a tingle through the rest of her.
“Unlace my gown,” she invited.
He didn’t tease her like the night before. He tugged open her bodice with demanding hands. “No undergarments tonight? That is clearly an offer.”
“Leave my sleeves on,” she reminded him.
“Of course.” He held his hands out to her. And waited.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. No one would ever find out. And she needed to make sure he was thoroughly distracted before she made her move.
She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her belly. She slid his palm down her skin, past the vee of her open gown. When his fingers touched her nether curls, she sucked in a breath.
“When you offered me your hair,” he said, “I had no idea you would be so generous.”
“Touch me here,” she said. “Any way you like.”
“Oh, Nora, are you sure you can withstand the temptation if I show you this?”
“Yes,” she snarled.
He gave her that presumptuous smile of his. “Has anyone touched you here before?”
“Of course not.”
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
That bastard. She didn’t answer, but she felt her cheeks flaming, and his smile widened.
“Show me how you like to be touched,” he said.
She guided his hand between her legs. A frisson traveled through her at the feeling of his big, strong hand cupping her. Together, they pressed their fingers into her folds.
“You’re already wet,” he purred. “It was a good kiss, wasn’t it? But it left you wanting more.”
She dipped his finger into her core, then slicked her most sensitive place. He followed her lead, letting her move his finger in a circle around the bud of nerves.
She bit down hard on her lip. His hand felt so different…so good…
“Is this how you like it?” he asked.
She nodded, her hair falling in her eyes. She kept her hand on his for a moment longer, but he soon had the rhythm. When her grip went slack, he took over. He didn’t need her to show him anything. He knew exactly how to touch her.
“You can’t read my mind!” she protested again.
“But I can sense what gives you pleasure…and I have five hundred years of experience with the female body.”
She gasped, bracing her hands on his chest for support.
Wrapping her hair around his other hand, he pulled her closer. He kissed his way roughly down her throat, his caresses a smooth torture between her legs. “One release is never enough for you, is it?”
She swiveled her hips into the rhythm of his touch, chasing the sensations.
“Do you have to pleasure yourself over and over to feel satisfied?”
He could sense her darkest desires. He increased the pressure of his fingers. She sank into his touch, her thighs trembling as he built the delicious tension inside her. Her body responded to his dexterous hand with such greed that she could feel herself crashing toward release already.
He eased off, leaving her quivering on the edge. “Is it hard to be quiet when you climax?”
She bit his shoulder to keep from moaning.
“I’ve covered your room in veil spells. I’m going to make you scream for me tonight, and no one will hear you.”
“I’m not that depraved,” she rasped.
“There is nothing depraved about your appetites. You need someone as hungry as you are to enjoy them with you.”
He struck her throat. Pleasure tore down through her body and flowed up from his hand. His ravenous sucks at her vein and the relentless glide of his fingers crashed together, too intense.
She stifled her scream against his neck. When the first waves had barely eased, he kept drawing on her throat, holding the thread of tension taut inside her. She snapped, and longer, deeper spasms wracked her body, leaving her gasping with relief.
He could make her come apart all night. His wicked power could exorcise her desires.
But the force of his bite weakened. The poison was working.
His grip on her hair slipped, and his other hand slid out of her gown. Cold struck her throat as his jaw went slack. It was already over.
It was time for her to act.
“Nora?” he wavered.
That plea pulled at her heart.
She eased his head back on the pillow. Her pulse raced with a panic she had never expected. All she could think was that no one had ever showed a shred of respect for her foolish drawings except this Hesperine.
Lies. All of it. This illusion of closeness meant nothing. His seduction would only lead to her paying for his brother’s death for all eternity.
Nora reached under her skirts and slid the blade along her thigh.
When she raised Arceo, his eyes widened, and he tried to lift his hands. But she held him down easily. Who was the helpless one now?
A scream of rage tore out of her as she brought the blade down.