Blood magic was the path he’d chosen, a decision he never regretted until just this moment. Now when what remained of his humanity and decency quivered at the edge of the Aeslomoran Abyss, he wished he’d sought another way. If only to save this poor, beautiful creature from his desires. Far too late now, and she would suffer his needs. At least he still grasped those last tangled threads that kept her safe from him until she recovered.
“And it’s not his magic?”
“No, Majesty. Far older and… not male.”
Er’it grunted again, glancing at the stacks of books Maruk had brought with him from Tor’en. Old, musty tomes with archaic language inscribed across cracking leather. It’d been an age since he’d forced himself to struggle through reading Drethik. People long extinct, only their prophecies and warped incantations remained. Even at his most desperate, Er’it never dared to try those spells, too much a risk and too much at stake. Whatever was in those bindings, it couldn’t be good.
Unfolding from his aggressive posturing, Er’it flipped the topmost book open, lips running askew as the cover tore and crumpled to dusty memories across the vanity. Before he could even destroy the first page with a cautious thumb turning it, he paused. Staring hard at the symbol painted there with gilt somehow defying all age and logic to be brilliant and shining.
He knew that symbol. A tale told to young men to incite their passion. Rowdy stories whores whispered to loosen purse strings. Rumors told by mages, sorceresses, and witches alike when deep in their cups. It wasn’t true though. Never had been true. Yet his gaze slid unerring towards the sleeping girl. Remembering the starlit night in her gaze, the silent murmur of her pleas reaching him across the echoing dungeon. The way he’d found her in that dungeon, the scent of spring and snow still ripe on his tongue.
“Get me Tor’en,” Er’it shouted over his shoulder, slapping his hand across the page to turn to the next.
Chapter 4 Aida
Drifting through the murky shadows that coiled around her, holding her fast in their slimy embrace, Aida lacked the will to even voice her distress. Otaso had never left her down here so long, never let that malignant beast dwelling in the cavernous dungeon take out its ill will upon her for so many days.
Pain radiated from the marrow of her bones, her very soul mangled and shredded. Sure that it flayed her skin no matter that it never was, it burned hot and bright behind her eyes in pulses of hideous greens and reds. He should have come long ago, making that awful sound and petting at her hair, telling her she should be a good little fawn from now on. Chastising her for bringing such a punishment down on her head.
She was not always sure what brought such abuse, but this time he accused her of much more than daring to peek out of her window. There was no logic to his insistence that she’d caused such destruction. She had no power. There was no reality where she could have done that. Yet each time he clambered down the stairs to rail at her again, laying more blame at her door, he said it was all her fault.
As the first cooling caress trailed along her arm, she sobbed. It was done and over. She would grovel at his feet if she must, though she didn’t understand why everything remained so dark. The wicked shadows still clung to her, not a single glimpse of the reddened haze that signaled her freedom from this vengeful limbo. Yet the chill of the syrup thick ointment he used on the unnatural wounds prickled her skin and delved deep into her flesh.
A sound that stole the very whisper of warmth from her lungs met her whine. A low rumble from far away, threatening and yet somehow comforting in that very ferociousness. It wasn’t the rasping grind of Otaso. Aida knew that from the first tremble of it staggering down her spine. More for the way it curled through her hips, plunging low into her belly to erupt in spray of white-hot embers. A writhing pool of warmth that grew fast into a molten core of heat. Blistering and delicious as it licked over her skin and drove the wintry chill from her bones as the thunder grew louder.
Otaso never aroused such a response. On the very heels of that thought was the understanding he was a man of significant power. If he learned some unknown magic, wielded some power over her now, she’d be helpless to stop him. If he could make her feel this with little more than a sound and a touch, perhaps she wouldn’t hate the very idea so much.
A gasp hissed between her teeth as an inferno closed over her throat. Heavy weight stifling her shallow breaths, it did not choke but warned. Kept her still despite the sudden fire lashing at her spine, twining through taut muscle to make it tremble and jump. Heat radiated through every particle of her flesh until Aida wanted nothing more than to scream and writhe. Not in pain, but in something so very different. It swelled in the cradle of her hips and between her thighs, in the place they warned her never to touch, never to even grace with a thought.
Now it burned. A scratching itch begging she soothe it as she bucked under the onslaught. Heady cedar and what she imagined sun-drenched fields smelled like invaded her senses. Raked through her body
