Chapter 14
The embrace wrapped around Mariah was warm and familiar.
The lazy sounds of early morning filtered in through the cracked windows, carried on a soft and delicate breeze. She dragged in a deep inhale, the sunlight warming her face. Rain and sandalwood filled her lungs, a beloved scent that was as familiar to her as the woods of her childhood home.
Mariah pressed her back into the warm hardness. The arms surrounding her tightened, just enough to keep her from twisting. Breath tickled the hair at her temple, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“No moving, little moon. And keep your eyes closed.”
Even with the final vestiges of sleep still clutching at her mind, a lazy thrill slid through Mariah, trailing down her body and settling deep in her core. The nickname was odd, but she ignored it, keeping her eyes closed as a small smile tugged at her lips.
“‘Eyes closed,’” she repeated sleepily, arching into him again. “Have something planned, Armature?”
His chuckle rumbled through her body and set all her senses ablaze. “For you? Always. Now.” He tugged her closer. Mariah inhaled sharply at the feel of him, hard and impressive, against her backside. “Be quiet.”
She was about to give him another retort when his hands loosened their hold.
They trailed across her skin, feather-light touches teasing and dancing.
One slid under the hem of the tunic she wore—his tunic, if she had to guess—tracing delicate circles under the swell of her breasts.
The other moved lower, following the smooth plane of her stomach.
He tugged at her underwear, exhaling softly into her hair.
He groaned when his fingers slipped beneath the lace.
Mariah tipped back her head, resting it against his shoulder. She kept her eyes closed as he’d asked, and he lazily explored her. Her own hand gripped his forearm, feeling the muscles and tendons contract.
“So wet and ready,” he murmured. Finally, slowly, he pushed a finger inside. It did little to fill the steady ache threatening to consume her, her mouth parting with a quiet whimper.
“More,” she whispered, and felt his lips twitch against her temple. She could picture the smirk on his face, the way it would make his brilliant indigo eyes sparkle.
“Not yet,” he said, withdrawing from her. She nearly whined at the sudden loss; it was not enough, not nearly enough. His mouth on her temple had her stilling once more.
“I want to taste you, first.”
He was moving, hands retreating from her skin, a loss that left her cold and wanting.
Then he was there again, pushing her onto her back, hovering over her.
The light behind her lids darkened as he blocked the morning sun, and even with her eyes closed she could feel the burn of his gaze.
Could feel the way he peeled back all her layers, leaving her bare and raw and seen.
She loved it. Just as she loved him.
The mattress sank. He bent lower, pressing his lips to her jaw, her neck, the valley between her breasts.
All the way down her body, worshipping every inch of her skin.
It could’ve taken two seconds, two minutes, or two years, but finally he reached where she wanted him most, hot breath tickling her through the sheer material.
She bucked slightly under him and he chuckled.
“Impatient, are we?” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, pulling them off in a single, practiced motion.
Her head slid off the pillows as he tugged her forward, her back flattening on the soft mattress.
He hiked her legs over his shoulders, burying his head between her thighs.
And inhaled. Deeply.
He groaned, the sound rumbling through her, her toes curling against the muscles of his back.
“This scent,” he growled. “I didn’t realize—” He groaned again. “I missed it more than I thought I could.”
Mariah lifted her head, about to open her eyes, lips parting with a question.
What was he talking about? They’d always been together. This morning was the same as it’s always been.
“Eyes closed, darling. And stay quiet.”
She smiled, collapsing back onto the mattress. But something prickled beneath her skin—something strange and foreign and off.
Of all the names he had for her, darling was not one of them—
Her breath left her lungs when his tongue met her core.
She buried her hand into the thick strands of his hair, her spine arching. She kept her eyes clenched closed, just as he’d commanded. The strange feeling was forgotten as he worked her higher and higher, his movements confident and sure.
“Oh, gods…” Her words faltered, caught in her throat with a gasp.
She could feel his smile against her sensitive flesh. He pulled back from her, her face twisting into a scowl. “Stop teasing me.”
He chuckled. “You may look nothing alike, but it’s amazing how similar you are to Zadione. Your smell”—he drew in a deep breath— “your taste…” His tongue met her core again and she jolted. “Even your words and the sounds you make. It’s just like her.”
That buzzing of wrongness returned, burning brighter this time. Some instinct hidden deep inside her soul screamed wildly for release. She tried to open her eyes but found a leash around her mind, one she hadn’t felt before.
Terror and anger gnashed their teeth as she found herself bound and helpless, grappling for control. He nuzzled into her deeper while she struggled, a finger slipping inside.
It was enough to make panic-laced fury bellow. She wrapped her mind around the burning, shadow-wreathed leash. With all the force she had left to her, all that broken desperation and vengeful rage she usually tried so hard to keep locked away, she cracked the collar around her will.
His command broke. Her eyes flew open.
That beloved face stared up at her with an unfamiliarly cruel smirk twisting his lips.
And instead of tanzanite, his eyes were a flaming, burning red.
Mariah shot up in bed, heart pounding and chest heaving. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck, her skin clammy and hot. The world around her tilted and she just barely managed to twist to the side before emptying the contents of her stomach on the floor.
She closed her eyes, body shuddering, waiting for the lurching in her stomach to stop. A door crashed open, followed by footsteps. A low voice muttered a curse before a calloused hand pushed back her damp, soiled hair.
“Shit, Mariah,” Trefor said. “Are you all right? Was it something you ate? I’ll get you some water and call the housekeepers—”
“I’m fine, Trefor,” Mariah croaked. She slowly pushed herself up, sheepishly avoiding the foul mess on the floor. Trefor’s sea-green eyes were bright with concern, pale hair standing at wild angles.
She inhaled shakily, her body still settling. “It was just a really, really bad dream.”
Flashes came back to her.
Hands and lips all over her. The smell of rain and sandalwood. Her body aching with need and longing.
A red that rivaled the burning heat of the sun.
Her stomach twisted again. She shot from bed, launching herself toward the bathroom.
“Fuck—Matheo! Get in here!”
“I’m fine!” Mariah tried to call, but her voice was too weak and quiet. More footsteps entered her room, and Matheo similarly swore.
She leaned her head against the cool porcelain. These men were some of Onita’s greatest warriors, but at times were worse than brooding hens.
“Stay with her,” she heard Trefor say. “Get her some water or something. I’m going to go find the housekeepers.”
Probably useful. Though guilt twinged through her at the thought.
Trefor raced away. There was a beat of silence before a tap turned on, filling a glass. Mariah lifted her head as Matheo hesitantly offered her the water.
She chugged the blessedly cold liquid, Matheo watching her with that same look of panicked concern Trefor had worn. The water thankfully cooled some of the fire clawing through her veins.
“Stop looking at me like that, Matheo.”
He blinked. “Like what?”
Mariah gave him a weak glare. “Like I’m dying. I promise, I’m all right. Just a little…”
Fucked up, is what she wanted to say. Ruined. Broken.
What was new was the rage.
It had always been there. Lurking beneath her forced numbness—beneath the blissful feeling of nothing.
But that dream—that violative, poisonous dream—had awakened it.
For the first time in days, she felt the beast beneath her skin crack open an eye, not fully emerging but watching just beyond her reach.
She would know those red-gold eyes anywhere.
She didn’t know how he’d done it, how he’d set them in Andrian’s face, how he’d tricked her with his scent.
It reminded her of the consequences of her pathetic inaction this past week and why there could be no more of it.
She dug down into herself, pushing past all the broken pieces of her heart.
Past the slumbering ancient beast that still watched her curiously.
Tunneled as far as she could go, reaching the place where those twin orbs of silver and gold threads once resided.
Empty. Still so painfully, horrendously silent.
Mariah gritted her teeth, a groan slipping past her lips. She steadied herself on the bathroom countertop and pushed to her feet. Matheo rushed to offer her his hand, but she waved him off.
“How many times do I have to say, ‘I’m fine’ before you believe me and stop hovering?”
Matheo’s hazel gaze searched her face then dropped and scanned her body. As if he could see beneath her skin, could see something wrong with her that she was unaware of—or lying about.
Mariah couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.
Matheo swallowed nervously. “Are you…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Is there…could you be…”
“Spit it out, Matheo.”
“Are you pregnant?” His question was a near yell, an abrupt outburst.
Mariah stilled.