Chapter 26 #2
I shook my head. Vorian was a strict man, very hard to please. He struck me a few times when Sarina and I did something foolish, being silly kids, but he never beat me.
“Your father would make trips down to the prisoner cells on occasion. Take his frustration and anger out on us. Beat Raelis until he blacked out.”
“No.” Bile crept up my throat.
“Yes, kanin.” He pressed back into me, his erection unyielding against me through his trousers.
My nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt, my skin tingling.
The taste of death still coursed through my blood.
“And I know what it feels to have nothing to live for.” His hand skated up between my breasts, circling around my throat.
The moment his hand cupped over his tattoo, I felt my skin zap to life, a groan sticking in my throat.
“I wish I’d never marked you. Then you really would be his now, and I wouldn’t have to care,” he hissed roughly, and his eyes roamed down my mark, his heated gaze stopping on my breasts. The feel of his massive erection pulsed against my stomach. “You’re not the only one obligated by duty.”
“Soon he will cover it over with his and you won’t have to worry about it anymore?”
“Doesn’t work like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because this won’t cease . . . you wonder why I’m here? Because I’m losing my sanity. You are fucking everywhere.” He peered down at the tattoo on his hand. “I can’t escape it.”
I felt the same way about the mark on my neck. “Is that how you knew I was drowning? You felt me?”
He pulled me in so close there was no space between us, his mouth almost brushing mine. “I feel your every fucking breath. I’m so aware of you, I can’t fucking think straight.” He snarled. “And I want it to end. I didn’t know it would be like this.”
“Then you should’ve let me die,” I snarled back.
“There are bigger plans for you.” The smell of mead thick on his breath, his eyes dilated, like he had been drinking all night. “I can’t let you just blow it all by killing yourself. I worked too hard to get you here.”
“I wasn’t killing myself.” My response was automatic.
“Then what do you call it?” My mouth parted to respond, and he slipped his thumb up my chin into my mouth, yanking on my jaw. “A coward’s death.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “How should I punish you for that?”
Every cell in my body sparked, the lack of air once again spinning my head, but I felt anything but sorrow. Life pumped in my veins, pulsing into my veins.
I knew I’d let him fuck me . . . I needed to feel him lose control, driving into me over and over. Owning me before I was someone else’s.
“Onyx.” I spoke softly, our lips just a breath away. A frantic twittering finally reached my eardrums, pulling my attention out to the bedroom. In the dim light I could see Munch jumping up and down, motioning with his good arm to my pillow, his noises desperate and urgent.
“What the fuck is his problem?” Onyx rumbled. Releasing me, he stepped back.
“I don’t know.” I climbed out of the tub, grabbing my robe, heading into the bedroom. Munch continued to click his teeth, pointing at my pillow.
“What?” I frowned. “It’s just a pillow.” I lifted it up to show him and froze.
Underneath was a crude figure made from wool, cloth, and some kind of plant twined in.
“What is that?” I reached out.
“Don’t touch it,” Onyx commanded. Using the bedspread, he picked up the puppet, bringing it closer to his face. Smelling it, he jerked back—and rushing to the window, he cracked it open, tossing it out.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s laced with morning glory.”
My body went still. Even I knew that was highly lethal to Ravens. Where moonflowers and jasmine messed with your mind, making you high, morning glory contained compounds that triggered severe depression, suicidal thoughts, and caused delusions.
“Not enough to kill you—”
“But enough that I might consider doing it myself,” I finished for him. A perfect way to make it look like I killed myself in order not to be used by the Night King, and no one would be accused of my murder.
“That’s probably what they are hoping.” He went back to my bed, flipping over more pillows and tearing off my duvet, trying to find if any more had been placed in my room.
I grabbed Munch out of his way, setting the groundling on a side table. “Thank you, my friend,” I muttered my appreciation, petting him on the head. He purred, his fangs showing as if he was smiling.
“I’d ask who would want you dead, but that list is too long.” Onyx tore through the cupboard, yanking everything out onto the floor.
I couldn’t disagree, but it also didn’t make sense.
“Why would they want me dead? I mean, the White Raven is said to be the cure of this land. What is the point to have me die now?”
He yanked out more garments, peering back at me.
“Some don’t want it healed.”
“What? Why?”
“Because they like their power the way it is. Any change might mean they lose that.”
“They would rather live in darkness, where their land is dying, and their people are starving?”