Page 18 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
The bones belong to some long-forgotten soul, not the prince I was picturing, but admiring the carnage gives me a small amount of satisfaction. I wouldn’t treat Lenore that way. I’d make her sweat, shake, beg, come. I’d be gentle if she wanted. I’d hurt her if she asked me to. I’d lick every inch of her and put my cock in every space she’d allow. But I wouldn’t degrade her the way I would the prince.
My sigh reflects my inner conflict. There’s always a price for taking a life out of turn. In my experience, it’s never been worth the cost. What will happen if I steal her life before the natural time? Will a soul be set free from the river to wreak havoc on the gardens? Will a creature from the in-between drop down into my domain? Or will the dead rise, returning to their human remains? That would be the end of the land of the living and all those who inhabit it.
There are only four souls who have stepped foot back into the mortal world after their passing. One, I sent willingly, gifting them temporary power and assigning them an important task. The other three were taken by force when I reaped souls out of their season. The first two tarnished escapees left me riddled with guilt. One took with him a plague that destroyed all the crops in the region where he once lived, leaving entire communities to starve. The other manipulated the masses. He spread lies and fear, inciting a witch hunt that sent thousands of innocent women to my domain before their time.
I was able to relocate those two to the in-between, but at a great personal expense. The scars that run along either side of my lower back burn with the reminder. A wing was taken for each. The days when I had four wings, beautiful and strong, have long since passed. The two that remain carry me well enough. I still feel that empty aching place, the misbalance of weight, every minute of every day. A part of me, lost forever.
The third soul to leave my domain as punishment for my actions still wanders above, stealing children from the mortal world and committing all manner of atrocities on his star-hidden island. He remains just out of my reach, taking up the guise of a child himself. Never growing up. It will be up to the fourth—the only soul I’ve ever given permission to return to the world above—to deliver him to me. The power I gifted her will help in her task. Even with some of my abilities, she has her work cut out for her.
And if I reap out of turn again? What will I have to give? To make Lenore mine, will I lose my ability to fly completely? Will I sacrifice the lives of millions to some famine or plague? Will I let the mortal world burn in exchange for her hand, her soul, her body on my throne?
Something resembling fear scratches up my throat. There’s an inkling, a distant buzzing in my skull that’s whispering her name. A part of me that would sacrifice all of those things and more for my little raven.
Chapter 8
Harrow
Lenore kneels in the snow, her hands full of breadcrumbs and nuts. An array of birds and several of the smaller woodland creatures take turns eating from her palms. She sings a quiet song, humming parts. Her crowd of attentive animals grows. Each one finds some way to touch her as they join the group. The larger animals nuzzle her shoulders. The birds find temporary perches on her arms and hands. The smaller creatures scurry across her lap or rub up against her skirts. Their adoration is obvious. I wonder, do they feel gratitude for the lives she’s given them? Are they able to comprehend such things?
Despite the lingering traces of winter, the sun is out today. Lenore glows beneath the soft golden beams. I would have maintained she is a creature of the night, but the light of day looks to lend her its favor too. Whether she’s bathed inmoonlight or sunlight, her beauty is of the heavens. She shines, as if fallen from the sky itself. That inner light that glows from beneath her skin speaks to the part of my soul that craves life. It’s a light that’s unique to her and so different from the glow of those who are close to death.
Without thought, I step closer. The animals notice me first. Their eyes shift in my direction. Wariness taints the lightly warmed air. It is unusual that they can see me. Could it be an after-effect of being brought back from the dead?
Some shift farther away. Others move closer to Lenore. She notes their attentions but does not turn. “Always watching,” she says aloud.
She’s not wrong. I watch her multiple times throughout the day and night. I planned on staying out of sight, but her sunlit allure has me wandering closer. “I can’t imagine a more spoiled group of wild beasts. To be handfed by royalty.”
She scoffs, brushing off the tenseness in her shoulders with a false bravado. “Please, these snacks are for me. The birdfeed diet is all the rage amongst the nobles these days. The only way to keep up a dainty figure.” She mimes tossing the seeds and breadcrumbs into her mouth. One seed flies up, making its way past her lips. She stiffens before discreetly spitting it out. “Oh yes. Yum. Crunchy and delicious.” Her voice carries across the frost-dappled clearing.
I grin. She is the most strange and amusing creature I have ever met.
“Animals can see you too.” An observation.
I move to stand nearer. “Not all animals.”
“Just my animals?” She’s referring to her unique pack of resurrected creatures.
“Yes.”
“Well then, you aren’t a ghost.” She empties the rest of the food onto the ground, brushing her hands along her pale-green skirts.
“No.”
“Also not big on conversation, are you?” Irritation sneaks above her curious tone.
“I don’t have much practice speaking with humans. But for you, Roseheart, I make an exception,” I answer honestly.
“You aren’t human?” There’s trepidation in her tone.
“No.”
She’s quiet for several moments longer. I can almost hear the gears turning inside her mind. What I wouldn’t give to peel her scalp back and watch those thoughts take form. To know exactly what she’s thinking. To see the ideas blossom in her brain like jasmine on a vine, budding to bloom the moment they occur.
“Will you tell me what you are?”
What I am? The right words escape me. My silence irritates her further. She sighs in frustration.
“Alright then, at least tell me this. Should I be afraid of you?”
