Page 80 of In the Ravenous Dark
Kineas’s apartments make mine look positively common. Gold is in abundance everywhere, not only veining the deep blue marble of the outer room’s pillars, but lining every piece of furniture with elaborate filigree. Gold practically rains from the ceiling with chandeliers molded like draping branches, their leaves wrought in silver and blossoms cut from pearly glass. Even the wall sconces are gold cast in the shape of naked women lifting their bright flames high above their heads, exposing their ample bosoms.
Of course Kineas would be that tacky. It’s a small consolation I’ll never have to join him in these apartments.
I hear a muttered curse past another gilded set of doors. His despicable voice rises: “IsaidI was not to be disturbed!”
I kick in those doors with sigils. They slam against the inner walls, sending one of several large mirrors shattering on the mosaic-tiled floor. I try to avoid my reflection in the others, though I glimpse grayish, flaking skin beneath that once-hated red sigil on my cheek and black mottling around my mouth. Revulsion crawls up my spine. Luckily the light is dim in here, the thick curtains tightly drawn and only scattered candelabras lit—for a purpose I soon see.
Kineas flies upright from under elaborately embroidered covers, his hair tousled. He’s in a massive bed at least twice as big as mine, the four corner posts carved to look like naked women upholding a canopy of midnight blue silk embroidered with gold and silver stars that actually sparkle and drift. His bed also has about that many flesh-and-blood women in it. There’s a gasp and a yelp from where they’re half-buried under the covers. Even a giggle.
They probably think I’m here to catch them in the act. I don’t care about them at all.
“Get out,” I growl.
Several pairs of kohl-lined eyes widen in the shadows of the deep bed. One girl makes a move to slide out of the covers, but she freezes when Kineas snaps his fingers at her and shakes his head, like she’s a dog.
“Rovan,darling,” he drawls, tossing his pewter hair out of his eyes. He leans back languidly against a luxurious stack of pillows. “Why don’tyouget out? I never granted you permission to enter. You might be eager for the marriage bed, but need I remind you we aren’t wedded yet?” He blinks. “Where are my guards?”
“I killed them,” I say, and then look at the girls. “I only want you to leave so I don’t have to kill you, too.”
One of the girls screams, and then they’re all out of bed, stumbling and running for the doors in various states of undress. Kineas snarls at me, hurling the covers aside. He tugs a himation hastily around himself, but not before I see more of him than I ever wanted to. It makes me doubly grateful I’ll never have to again. He also grabs a long, wicked dagger from off his bedside table. A ruby the size of an eye winks from the pommel.
I hope it’s there to use against unforeseen threats like me, and not against the women who have the misfortune to regret being in his bed. But I’ve heard the stories, and I have my doubts.
“There’s no chance you killed my guards. Your guardian would have stopped you.” He marches toward me, but his steps falter as he gets a closer look at me in the dimness. “What in the goddess’s name is thematterwith you? You’re hideous!”
I shake my head slowly, vaguely hoping more hair doesn’t fall out. “No, I’m dying, and I’m taking you to the underworld with me.” I get no small satisfaction in watching the blood drain from his face. “But first, let’s take a walk.”
Kineas raises the dagger in shaking hands, the blade and ruby glinting in the candlelight. “I’m not goinganywherewith you, you disgusting witch. Look at you!”
Of course he wouldn’t want to come with me because of how Ilook, not because I threatened to kill him. I should be angry, but instead I start laughing. I can’t help it. It’s just sofunny.
“You’re insane!” he shouts.
I swallow my laughter with difficulty. “I might be.”
“Guards!” Kineas yells. “Help!”
“I told you, they’re not coming.” Another giggle escapes me. “Can we go now?”
Kineas lets out a wild cry and charges at me with the dagger upraised.
Merely sketching sigils, I break every one of his fingers. Thesnaps are loud, like chicken bones popping when you twist the leg from the thigh. I’m actually impressed with my accuracy, though I wouldn’t want to try anything requiring more delicacy than that. Healing must be terribly difficult.
I’m not here to heal.
Kineas howls and drops the dagger. He tries to catch it, fumbling it in useless fingers and slicing his palm open, before it hits the floor, the ruby clacking loudly. Bent with pain, he stares down at his reddening, rapidly swelling hands, one now dripping blood. He releases a strangled groan.
“Youbitch,” he half sobs. “You’re going to pay for this.”
I’m staring at his hands, too—rather, the red oozing from the one. I can’tstopstaring. It’s like something has seized control of my body, and I just need to get closer…
I reach for Kineas’s hand, but he jerks it away—understandably, though I can’t have that. With a wave, I slam him against the wall, breaking another mirror, and seize his wrists, feeling the warm wetness ooze over my fingers. I marvel, because where his blood touches me, the dark rot recedes from my skin.
That isn’t why I do it. I do it because I can’t help it. I feel a need, a hunger so strong, that nothing, not even my own screaming thoughts, can stop me. I press his palm to my lips.
Blood pulses into my mouth, warm, thick, and coppery rich. I drink.
Kineasscreams. But I choke off his throat with sigils until the noise is a mere rasp. I keep gulping. It tastes so good; it’s like his blood is filling a yawning void inside me.
