The Darkest Torment
Page 81
Again, she echoed his statement.
He proceeded. “This I say, this I do.”
“This I say, this I do.”
When he said no more, she realized they were done. She expected something wondrous to happen. A tidal wave of strength. Warmth. Something! She got zilch, zero, nada.
“It didn’t work,” she managed to whisper.
“Don’t worry, lass.” Puck finally stopped running. He set her down on something soft then straightened, severing contact. The only bit of heat she’d had vanished. “We aren’t done yet.”
He pressed something even warmer against her lips. Something wet. A copper tang coated her tongue, and she gagged. Blood?
“Swallow,” he commanded.
She shook her head in negation, the trickle sliding down her cheek rather than her throat.
“You will.” He held her nose and jaw with one hand, preventing further movement, and held his wrist over her open mouth with the other, forcing her to obey.
Well. There was no way she was going to complete the ceremony now. He was too high-handed. Too uncaring about her plight.
But the blood slid into her stomach at last, and another black shroud covered her mind. This time, the gossamer fabric didn’t send her into a state of unawareness. Puck lifted her arm, cut her wrist—the sharp sting made her cringe—then licked away the well of blood.
“Blood of my blood, breath of my breath,” he said. “Until the end of time. Repeat the words.”
“No.”
“Then you die, and William and I will war for nothing.”
Argh! She couldn’t allow William to get sucked into another war. She repeated the words and finally, amazingly, the “thing” happened, and then some. Lance after lance of strength sped through her. The warmth inside her sparked hotter and hotter, and soon she felt as if she’d swallowed the sun.
A pang of sadness—she’d never experienced anything so magnificent, but she wasn’t experiencing it with William.
The black faded from her mind completely and suddenly she could see. Sunlight! An open, airy bedroom. The decadent scent of lavender coated the air, stronger than ever before. She lay on a large bed, wisps of white fabric billowing from four posts.
I’m alive! Laughing giddily, she jolted upright. Puck perched beside her, watching her with a blank expression, and in a rush of sudden gratitude, she threw her arms around his neck to hug him. He’d saved her, despite the risk to himself—oh, no! The risk! Would William punish him?
No, no. Of course not. Puck had saved her, and that’s what William—her friend—had wanted.
And since this was basically a marriage of convenience, she and Puck could even move into the fortress. Or she could return without her husband in tow. Nothing had to change!
She tried to pull away, but his arms wrapped around her and held on tight. Too sexual! her mind screamed. Too much, too fast. She wrenched backward, cutting off all contact as her heart hammered a staccato rhythm. He frowned at her.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
He said nothing, continued peering at her as sunlight washed over him. Maybe it was the bond but...he was somehow even more beautiful to her than before. The color of his skin seemed deeper, richer, and the silken strands of his hair gleamed. Even the razors braided throughout were lovely, the silver metal mesmerizing to her. She could make out every individual lash framing his gorgeous eyes. The sharpness of his nose gave his face an arresting strength only magnified by the hard slash of his lips.
He reached out and after a moment’s hesitation, brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. His fingers left a trail of fire in their wake, and she found herself leaning into his touch.
“You are exquisite,” he said.
A blush burned her cheeks. “Thank you. And you—”
“Are not.” His tone was a little harsher now. “I know.”
“No. Don’t put words—”
“Gillian!” William’s roar echoed off the walls. He burst through the door a split second later, shards of wood raining in every direction. He had a dagger in each hand and the promise of death in his neon red eyes.
His dark hair billowed around his face, lifted by a wind she couldn’t feel, and for a moment, she would have sworn lightning coursed under the surface of his skin. But the most shocking part of his transformation? The shadows stretching over his shoulders. William had wings!
He focused on Puck. “You’re going to die—but not until you’ve begged for mercy for centuries to come. She’s mine, and I protect what’s mine.”
Her mind snagged on one word. Die. “No,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Actually, she’s mine.” Puck stood slowly, completely unafraid, and Gillian’s mouth dried. “I would never harm my girl.”
The lightning returned to William’s skin. He stepped forward, lifting a dagger, ready to throw it.
Stretching out her arms to ward him off, Gillian leaped to her feet, making sure to shield Puck. “William. You can’t hurt him.”
His smile held different shades of evil. “Oh, poppet. I assure you I can.”
“You don’t understand. He saved me. He’s...he’s my husband.” The word tasted foreign on her tongue. “Hurting him hurts me. I think. Right?”
Puck nodded at her.
A mix of shock and fury played over William’s beloved features. “The bond,” he said, tone now hollow. “You agreed to it.”
Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. Things were going to change. “I didn’t want to die, and you said you wouldn’t bond with me. I heard you.” But now that her head was clear, her body free of pain, she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision.
She might have ruined everything.
William might never forgive her for this. And Puck...he might want to kill Torin, her friend. In her pain, she had forgotten his vengeance against the warrior.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he told her quietly. “He’s using you for something.”
“I know.” They were using each other.
“You know? Do you know you belong to him, and that the ties can never be broken?”
Yes, and it suddenly flayed her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Puck placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, and it felt...right. But it also felt wrong. She did her best to hide her dueling feelings from the two men.
He proceeded. “This I say, this I do.”
“This I say, this I do.”
When he said no more, she realized they were done. She expected something wondrous to happen. A tidal wave of strength. Warmth. Something! She got zilch, zero, nada.
“It didn’t work,” she managed to whisper.
“Don’t worry, lass.” Puck finally stopped running. He set her down on something soft then straightened, severing contact. The only bit of heat she’d had vanished. “We aren’t done yet.”
He pressed something even warmer against her lips. Something wet. A copper tang coated her tongue, and she gagged. Blood?
“Swallow,” he commanded.
She shook her head in negation, the trickle sliding down her cheek rather than her throat.
“You will.” He held her nose and jaw with one hand, preventing further movement, and held his wrist over her open mouth with the other, forcing her to obey.
Well. There was no way she was going to complete the ceremony now. He was too high-handed. Too uncaring about her plight.
But the blood slid into her stomach at last, and another black shroud covered her mind. This time, the gossamer fabric didn’t send her into a state of unawareness. Puck lifted her arm, cut her wrist—the sharp sting made her cringe—then licked away the well of blood.
“Blood of my blood, breath of my breath,” he said. “Until the end of time. Repeat the words.”
“No.”
“Then you die, and William and I will war for nothing.”
Argh! She couldn’t allow William to get sucked into another war. She repeated the words and finally, amazingly, the “thing” happened, and then some. Lance after lance of strength sped through her. The warmth inside her sparked hotter and hotter, and soon she felt as if she’d swallowed the sun.
A pang of sadness—she’d never experienced anything so magnificent, but she wasn’t experiencing it with William.
The black faded from her mind completely and suddenly she could see. Sunlight! An open, airy bedroom. The decadent scent of lavender coated the air, stronger than ever before. She lay on a large bed, wisps of white fabric billowing from four posts.
I’m alive! Laughing giddily, she jolted upright. Puck perched beside her, watching her with a blank expression, and in a rush of sudden gratitude, she threw her arms around his neck to hug him. He’d saved her, despite the risk to himself—oh, no! The risk! Would William punish him?
No, no. Of course not. Puck had saved her, and that’s what William—her friend—had wanted.
And since this was basically a marriage of convenience, she and Puck could even move into the fortress. Or she could return without her husband in tow. Nothing had to change!
She tried to pull away, but his arms wrapped around her and held on tight. Too sexual! her mind screamed. Too much, too fast. She wrenched backward, cutting off all contact as her heart hammered a staccato rhythm. He frowned at her.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
He said nothing, continued peering at her as sunlight washed over him. Maybe it was the bond but...he was somehow even more beautiful to her than before. The color of his skin seemed deeper, richer, and the silken strands of his hair gleamed. Even the razors braided throughout were lovely, the silver metal mesmerizing to her. She could make out every individual lash framing his gorgeous eyes. The sharpness of his nose gave his face an arresting strength only magnified by the hard slash of his lips.
He reached out and after a moment’s hesitation, brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. His fingers left a trail of fire in their wake, and she found herself leaning into his touch.
“You are exquisite,” he said.
A blush burned her cheeks. “Thank you. And you—”
“Are not.” His tone was a little harsher now. “I know.”
“No. Don’t put words—”
“Gillian!” William’s roar echoed off the walls. He burst through the door a split second later, shards of wood raining in every direction. He had a dagger in each hand and the promise of death in his neon red eyes.
His dark hair billowed around his face, lifted by a wind she couldn’t feel, and for a moment, she would have sworn lightning coursed under the surface of his skin. But the most shocking part of his transformation? The shadows stretching over his shoulders. William had wings!
He focused on Puck. “You’re going to die—but not until you’ve begged for mercy for centuries to come. She’s mine, and I protect what’s mine.”
Her mind snagged on one word. Die. “No,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Actually, she’s mine.” Puck stood slowly, completely unafraid, and Gillian’s mouth dried. “I would never harm my girl.”
The lightning returned to William’s skin. He stepped forward, lifting a dagger, ready to throw it.
Stretching out her arms to ward him off, Gillian leaped to her feet, making sure to shield Puck. “William. You can’t hurt him.”
His smile held different shades of evil. “Oh, poppet. I assure you I can.”
“You don’t understand. He saved me. He’s...he’s my husband.” The word tasted foreign on her tongue. “Hurting him hurts me. I think. Right?”
Puck nodded at her.
A mix of shock and fury played over William’s beloved features. “The bond,” he said, tone now hollow. “You agreed to it.”
Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. Things were going to change. “I didn’t want to die, and you said you wouldn’t bond with me. I heard you.” But now that her head was clear, her body free of pain, she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision.
She might have ruined everything.
William might never forgive her for this. And Puck...he might want to kill Torin, her friend. In her pain, she had forgotten his vengeance against the warrior.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he told her quietly. “He’s using you for something.”
“I know.” They were using each other.
“You know? Do you know you belong to him, and that the ties can never be broken?”
Yes, and it suddenly flayed her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Puck placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, and it felt...right. But it also felt wrong. She did her best to hide her dueling feelings from the two men.
