10 LONNIE
THE WAYWOODS
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Saving your life, apparently,”
Prince Scion said darkly, as if the very idea angered him.
Without waiting for my reply, Prince Scion bit down on his wrist with the same intensity I had seen Bael do many times before. He held the bleeding wound to my mouth.
A mix of emotions flooded through me - a sense of relief mingled with disgust. Still, I didn’t resist as the taste of blood, salty and metallic, filled my mouth. Perhaps I should have.
One of the things that Bael had mentioned, though never satisfactorily explained to me, was that by sharing blood he had tied me to him. In essence, he had made me more likely to think of him, to want him. If I was honest with myself, everything Bael had described about the connection—the changing feelings, the obsessive thoughts, the wanting to be close...I already felt that way about Prince Scion, but what if this made it worse?
I pushed the worries away as I swallowed, gulping down the life-saving liquid. Scion made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and within seconds, I started to feel the effects of the blood take hold. The pain in my chest ebb slightly, and my eyes flew wide—suddenly alert—but that was where the healing stopped. The wound in my chest spasmed, and I glanced down and was almost startled to see the arrow still protruding from my chest.
I pulled my mouth back, blood coating my lips. “How did you find me?”
Prince Scion grimaced. He was wearing his full obsidian armor, and his black hair was windswept off his face, like perhaps he’d sprinted all the way here. “That’s not important right now. How the fuck did this happen? Who did this to you?”
“That’s not important, either. Why isn’t it healing?”
Scion shook his head. “I won’t know until you show me. We need to get you somewhere where I can take a look at that wound.”
Somewhat reluctantly, I dropped his wrist, and wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fine.”
I pushed to my feet—or, at least, tried to. I staggered, and Scion threw out both arms to catch me, before lifting my entire body into the air. Carrying me as if my weight made no difference to him, he strode toward the same house in the distance I’d been trying to reach earlier.
With every step, the house grew clearer. Finally, I beheld not a house, but a dilapidated old barn, that I was sure had not been used in longer than I’d been alive. Disappointment surged. We likely would not find any village here, but I supposed, at least I was no longer alone.
“We need to go to a healer,”
I said stiffly.
“No healer will be able to fix this.”
Dread washed over me, because I knew he was right. Even now, I was starting to feel light headed again. “If even your blood did not heal me, and I cannot see a healer…I’ll die.”
“No you won’t,”
he growled, shouldering open the rotting barn door and stepping inside. “I won’t allow it.”
Strangely, a shred of hope rose in my chest. “If I were to trust anyone to make demands of death itself, it would be you, my lord.”
“Not demands, rebel,”
he said thickly. “Prayers.”
The barn turned out to be hardly better than the forest in terms of shelter. It was large, and mostly empty, with rough and rotting beams, and cobwebs hanging from every corner and rafter. Some rusted tools, a few empty stalls, and piles of filthy hay made up the entirety of the interior, and although I could not see outside from any angle, the sound of the rushing wind made me glad it was not raining, as I doubted the roof would have held up.
The moment we stepped inside, Scion lowered me to the floor, looking slightly apologetic when I hissed in pain.
“Take off your shirt,”
he demanded.
I shrank back. “No.”
He rolled his eyes. “This isn’t some ruse to get your clothing off, rebel, I need to see the wound.”
I felt my cheeks heat, and my mind flooded with the memory of looking down at his perfect, unscarred face as he said, “Take off your nightgown. I want to see you.”
We both knew he hadn’t needed any ruse or trickery to get me naked only last week.
Praying he didn’t somehow know what I was thinking, my hands trembled as I reached up to try to undo the buttons at my throat, but found it was too painful to lift my arm. Tears blurred my vision, and a strangled cry escaped my lips. “I can’t.”
Scion lurched forward, as if pulled by invisible strings, and grabbed for my hand with trembling fingers. “I’ll do it.”
I nodded, closing my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him as he gripped the fabric of my tunic in both hands and tore it cleanly down the center as if it were tissue paper. The two even halves hung uselessly off my shoulders, and I shivered as the cold air hit the bare skin of my stomach and chest.
Scion’s expression was unreadable, as he leaned closer so he could inspect the wound. His breath skated over my bare skin and gooseflesh rose on my chest and arms, my nipples turning to hard peaks. I saw his eyes flick to them for the briefest second before he stepped back. “I need to pull the arrow out.”
“No!”
I hissed, shrinking back from him. “The arrow itself is the only thing preventing me from bleeding to death.”
“I know,”
he snapped. “But it is also the thing preventing my blood from healing you. I need to take it out, so the wound will close.”
I shook my head vigorously. “Absolutely not. Do you even understand how quickly I will die once it’s removed?”
He scowled. “You do not need to explain mortality to me, I’ve killed enough men to know far better than you how much blood you can lose before there’s no returning from it, and I daresay you’re past that point already.”
“So, what, you’re hoping to speed things along?”
He laughed without humor. “How many times must I save your life before you stop accusing me of trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know,”
I replied, my blood heating. “Perhaps I wouldn’t think that if you didn’t blow so hot and cold. Do you hate me today, or is your other personality making an appearance? What are you even planning to do, if not simply let me bleed out?”
Scion’s silver eyes darkened, and slid to mine, then he smiled as he reached up and began unbuckling the breastplate of his obsidian armor, until it finally fell with a ground-shaking clang against the barn floor. Then, he did the same with his arm guards. “Press your back against the wall and brace yourself. The arrow will hurt when I pull it out, quite as much as it did going in.”
“Are you just going to ignore my question?”
I seethed.
His tongue swept over his bottom lip and my eyes widened as he began to shift out of the heavy looking chain mail undershirt that covered everywhere on his body that was not protected by stone. “I’m not ignoring you, rebel, I’m simply unwilling to waste any more time arguing with you when I could simply show you how I intend to help.”
Scion straightened and stood shirtless in front of me, every inch of his muscled chest gleaming with sweat. My breath caught, and I swallowed, not entirely from nerves this time as he sauntered toward me. He put his hands on my shoulders, steering me to stand against the wall as he’d directed, then bent low over me, bracing one hand behind my head.
My heart pounded too fast, my breath catching. “Wait no! What are you going to do?”
His magnetic eyes darted over me, and then narrowed, like he was making up his mind. “It’s not what I’m going to do, rebel. It’s you.”
“Excuse me?”
Then, he tilted his head to the side, baring his neck to me, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to pull that arrow out, and you’re going to take my blood to heal yourself.”
I blinked at him, finally shocked into silence. He could not be serious, could he? “I…I can’t do that.”
“How else did you think you were going to survive this? You need far more than a taste from my wrist.”
“No. I’m not even sure my teeth will break your skin.”
He looked almost like he was suppressing a smile when he said: “Bite hard.”
I could think of nothing to say, because he was right. There was no other option, but that didn’t make me feel better about the idea. I might have thought this was one of those strange cultural differences between humans and Fae, simply impossible for me to understand, except that I knew it wasn’t. Bael had been perfectly clear that even to fairies, sharing blood was taboo, and Scion had never struck me as one to dabble in the gray areas of society. “You seem far too calm about this.”
He looked down at me, and as so often with Scion, I couldn’t read the expression behind his eyes. His arrogant, perfect features always hid whatever he was really thinking from me. “Not calm, rebel. Focused.”
Scion braced his hand on the wall above me. He hovered his other hand over the arrow shaft, but didn’t yet touch it. We were so close, I could see every silver spec in his eyes. “Are you ready?”
“No,”
I blurted out.
Seeming not to care about my answer, Scion gripped the back of my head and pressed my face into the curve of his shoulder. It was the only warning I got before a sharp, burning agony tore through me. My eyes watered involuntarily as the extreme pressure on my chest suddenly released, and I screamed into Scion’s neck.
I’d never hated him as much as when my head swam, and I could feel hot, viscous blood pouring over both of us, soaking our bare skin and the tattered shreds of my tunic top. Distantly, I heard something clatter against the floor, which could only be the broken arrow, but my head was spinning, and I couldn’t think of anything except the pain.
“Now, rebel,”
he said in a strangled half-whisper.
Giving in, I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. Then, trying not to think about what I was doing, I sank my teeth into his pulse point.
The metallic taste of his blood flooded my mouth again, thick and warm, but this time it felt so much more potent. He groaned, and it sounded somewhere between pain and pleasure, and I sucked harder against the wound.
With each pull of blood, I forgot to be revolted or embarrassed, until at some point I realized I was enjoying it. He tasted like salt and iron and something else, something undefinable that sent electricity skating over my skin. Finally, I understood what it must mean to taste of magic.
The pain lessened, and I swallowed desperately, my throat burning with the intense craving for more. The beat of his pulse under my teeth was like a drum, driving me to drink until there was nothing left but crimson stains on my lips.
Scion reached up and wound his hand into my hair, but instead of pulling my head back as I’d expected he pressed my mouth more firmly against his throat.
His skin radiated a comforting musky scent, reminiscent of the forest, and felt surprisingly smooth against my face as I brushed against it with my lips and nose, grazing his collarbone. Without thinking about it, I ran my tongue up the side of his neck to the tip of his pointed ear.
Scion shuddered, and as the last sharp sting of pain faded away, a different kind of warmth spread through my body. I pulled back to look at him. Our gazes met, and this time there was no pain inside me, just a throbbing, aching need.
I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, cleaning off the blood that still lingered there. His eyes snapped down to my mouth and his pupils dilated until only a hint of silver remained around a circle of burning black.
“Rebel…”
he breathed, neither a statement nor a question.
Meeting his intense gaze, I could see the hunger there. The magnetic energy between us crackled as our lips collided once again. Everything with Scion was always more intense than I expected. More consuming, more demanding. He craved my complete surrender with every touch.
A mix of anger and overwhelming lust surged through me, wanting to punish his mouth for the pain he caused me while also craving his touch intensely. Feeling almost drunk, I leaned forward and pressed my bloodstained lips to his
A strangled groan came from the back of his throat, and it was as if the tension shattered.
His lips opened against mine, his tongue sweeping in to savagely claim my mouth. I could taste the anger on his lips, the hunger and need, and the magic that buzzed in the blood that still coated both our mouths. Our hands tore at what was left of our ruined and bloodstained clothing, and all rational thought fled.
I felt my feet leave the floor as Scion picked me up and slammed my back against the wall. I gasped, expecting it to hurt, but there was no pain left in my shoulder. His hard length pressed into my core, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Shadows sprung out of nowhere, and wrapped themselves around my body, holding me against the wall and leaving Scion’s hands free to roam down my sides, over the curves of my breasts.
A low growl escaped from him as he reached down and slid his fingers between my thighs, dragging them through my folds before he thrust two fingers inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
A shock of arousal hit me, fogging my mind. “Gods…”
He drove his fingers in and out, holding me painfully close to the edge. I wriggled in an attempt to urge him to move faster. Just when I was about to scream, Scion pulled his fingers away and brought them to his lips. “I thought I’d imagined how fucking sweet your cunt is. You taste like magic, rebel.”
I burned at those words, the heat around us seeming to actually rise as he brought his mouth to one nipple, and then the other, sucking hard enough that I could feel it all the way down in my core.
A soft hiss escaped my lips as he bit down on the top of my breast with just enough force to cause a mix of pleasure and pain. The shadows wound tighter around my arms, my waist, and pulled taught around my throat. I arched my back, pressing closer. He nipped at the pebbled flesh, not taking care to be gentle, and each pull from his mouth and graze of his teeth sent sparks of pleasure straight to my clit.
He moved his mouth up the column of my neck back to my lips. He bit down on my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as I reached between us, and traced my fingers along his chiseled chest, savoring every ridge of muscle beneath my touch. I reached the belt of his trousers, and I shoved them down. My hand wrapped around his shaft and I moved my fingers up and down, slow and teasing.
He hissed, and pulled his head back to look me in the eye. “Do you want this?”
The answer came immediately to my lips. “Yes.”
Scion licked his lips, and his gaze widened, burning with some combination of lust, and something else impossible to name. Like he was almost hoping I would be the one to put a stop to whatever this was, and give him a reason to close himself off again.
“I won’t be gentle,”
he warned.
“Don’t be,”
I leaned in, and ran my tongue over the still visible bite mark on his neck. “Fuck me like you hate me.”