21. Attr（act）ion #2
Fires dissipated with a sizzle; his wind promptly flamed them back to a roar; the scent of burning intensified; water gushed into the air, fighting back the flames.
Bending low, Tarantula pushed wet hair off my face and tucked it gently behind my ear. Butterflies played guerrilla warfare in my stomach, and a strange new exhaustion made everything spin.
Tarantula frowned and pressed his inner wrist to my forehead. Blood exploded in an arc nearby as a falling branch impaled a Southerner. That’s not good.
“Do thou have a fever?” Tarantula asked with concern.
“Go . . .” I trailed off, struggling to speak as I battled dizziness and magical exertion.
He squatted, leveling his ear near my mouth so he could hear me. “What art thou trying to say? Art thou okay?” He gently cupped the back of my injured head with his palm, prisoner chains clinking together.
“. . . screw yourself,” I said straight into his ear.
Rule of survival: Never swallow arachnid venom. Always spit it out.
“I think—” he sighed “—I shall screw thee instead, Ravenal.” Our cheeks were pressed together, his mask feverish against my face, heated by his unreasonable body heat.
“You don’t mean that,” I said, voice shaking.
“Oh, but I do . . .”
“Please . . .” I leaned closer into him. “Stop sharing your feelings. No one asked.”
He pulled away, shaking his head as if I was a lost cause.
Pipes exploded like bombs; water poured from above, sizzling over flames.
“Ravenal, thou art by far the single most annoying woman I have ever met.”
I held my breath, refusing to inhale his masculine insolence. “I can be way worse.”
He nodded curtly like he’d come to a decision.
In one swift motion, he tossed me face-first over his shoulder and carried me through the wreckage.
“I told thee earlier that I would handle the Southerners,” he said casually.
“But thou never listen. Never has a woman been more impatient, belligerent, sanctimonious, obstinate, or dangerously . . . beguiling.”
Head bobbing helplessly, I scowled at the dimples on the bottom of his muscular back and pointed my glowing hands at a woman who was caught between two burning tree branches.
I directed a jet of water, and it drenched the area.
The fire dissipated. Praying, she pointed up to the sky in gratitude while she climbed free. You’re welcome.
Wetness dripped from my nose, and I brought my glowing fingers to inspect it—blood? I pinched my nostrils, trying to stop it.
Ash fell in the smoky din, people screaming as they sprinted past.
“How did the fire start?” a woman asked as she helped people to safety.
“An accident!” a man replied. “The lanterns fell!”
Another nodded. “A horrible accident.”
Can’t they see the monster prowling through their midst? Why was I the only one who could smell the world-dominating corruption leaking from him? He reeked of it.
“Thou drive me to horrible madness, Ravenal,” Tarantula said conversationally as he stalked out into the humid night, oblivious to the fires I was putting out.
“Don’t fool yourself,” I said. “We both know you were born mad, Sazha.” The name tasted strange in my mouth, like truth in the middle of a grand deception.
He stopped abruptly. My forehead knocked against his spine. Back muscles hardened as he tensed all over.
“Careful . . . Calling me that name . . . does things to me.” His voice had a strange lilt to it, and his breathing turned ragged. Sharp scents intensified.
Aw, the megalomaniac is triggered.
“How about don’t tell me what to do, Sa—zha.” I slowly enunciated his name. The pungent scent of his dark intentions oozed off him in a sudden overwhelming wave; my hair whipped around my head; goose bumps of premonition pebbled my arms.
BOOM.
I coughed, choking on magic and abject horror.
The ground shook as the building collapsed behind us in a cloud of debris. Water and fire battled, flaring from the wreckage high into the sky. Dust burned my eyes. Southerners screamed as they ran to safety.
He’d razed the building.
Completely normal, nondisturbing behavior.
The Marshal’s assessment was wrong. We should have killed him.
There were priceless diamonds around his neck, and they were supposed to be stopping him. If this was him magically castrated . . . I couldn’t fathom what he was like unconstrained. His full magical prowess must be inconceivable.
The worst part was, the ruined building wasn’t his most heinous crime of the night.
His hand had moved upward during the explosion, holding me steady, and his fingers were now spread possessively across the very top of my thighs.
He pressed me against the front of his shoulder, his thumb hovering at the juncture between my covered legs.
The calloused pad scraped slowly upward, and a whisper of wind followed in its wake. A two-pronged attack. Every nerve in my body quivered, desperate for him to do more. The chain from his shackle dug into the back of my thigh.
“I detest thee, dear.” He dropped his hand. “Thou tempt me with corruption.”
“I assure you that—” I punched at his kidneys with my fists, but he didn’t miss a step “—I abhor you more. You are a Plague, just like your stupid dragon.”
“Coming from the brat herself. And my dragon is Pestilence—get it right.”
“Better a blight than a monster.”
He laughed, putting his hand once again across my thighs like he couldn’t help himself. His calloused thumb rested dangerously across the apex, pressing the chiffon material into my core.
All five of my senses came alive, and then a sixth. He pressed his thumb deeper, and I clenched around it. I’d never known flesh could be so fevered.
Blood rushed straight to my head, and I squeezed my thighs together, trapping his thumb inside of me. He made a harsh sound in his throat as he muttered under his breath about vexation, fate, and damnation.
I squirmed, and he exhaled raggedly as he walked faster through the now abandoned street, destruction flaming behind him.
His words said one thing, but his body was saying another. Even worse . . . so was mine. The unthinkable had come to pass. He’d caught me in his malevolent web.