Page 41 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“It won’t bother us,” I assure him.
“It attacked me before,” Cassius tells me, frowning sourly.
“You’re with me now.”
Cassius throws me a sidelong look, but doesn’t ask further questions. I release my hand from his. He mistakes the move for a readjustment and repositions his fingers so they’re fully interlaced with mine. Anxiety storms my belly. I peer over my shoulder at Mytha still observing us. The thrill of such close proximity to Cassius clashes with the fear of knowing Harrow may be witnessing this intimate moment.
Why must I choose sides? Why must they both show up in my life now, Cassius’s light and Harrow’s dark—as if I could ever choose one over the other?
A proper bathing washes away the most vicious moments of my encounter with Harrow in the maze. I declined Melly’s help. Using the excuse of “needing to be alone to process the events of the day.” I really do need to process, not to mention check my body for evidence of my time with Harrow’s monster. Although, I guess it would help to make her believe me if shedidsee the evidence of him all over my body, but after the events of today… maybe it’s better that she doesn’t for now.
Pink swirls mark my thighs and wrists. Those shadows and their strange… abilities. I cup my sex, pressing the warm water against it to help ease the ache left behind. I’ve never been touched like that. Never felt my body soar and shatter. That’s not how I pictured it would happen. Who could imagine something they didn’t even know existed? Memories of that tight pressure and warm burst of pleasure crawling up my spine and spreading across my lower stomach have a pulse beating to life between my legs.
If anyone knew I’d been touched like that…
Guilt constricts my throat as I swallow. Spoiled goods, that’s what they call the girls who take lovers before they’re married. It’s wildly unfair. Men are allowed to galivant about, stuffing their cocks in any hole they deem desirable. Wed or unwed.
Even after the wedding vows have been exchanged, most men take lovers. Not my father, of course. My mother is the apple of his eye. She enchants him. The way he still looks at her, all these years later, is one reason why I desire my own romantic love story and not just a profitable arrangement.
I almost gave it all up to Harrow. Everything. I wanted him to take it all. My thighs rub together beneath the now-tepid water. Dragging myself from the tub, I dress for bed.
Another feather awaits me on my pillow. My giddiness rekindles. Lying on my back, staring at the velvet canopy above, I twirl the feather between my fingers.
It’s the closest thing I have to Harrow. My fingers stroke the edge. It’s so soft, just like his skin. Running it along my inner wrist makes it almost feel like he’s touching me. A wicked idea forms. Glancing toward the door, I wait, listening. I know there are guards outside. But if I’m quiet…
Sliding the covers down and my knees up, I bare that newly found and still-sore place to the privacy of my bedroom. The feather tickles as I slide it along my inner thigh. I’m surprised at how quickly that same liquid from before collects at my opening. Just thinking of Harrow has me dampening my sheets.
Using the very tip of the feather, I guide it to that small raised area where Harrow focused so much of his tongue’s attention. It’s sensitive, with a subtle heartbeat beneath the now-tingling flesh. I run the feather across it. My lower stomach flexes in response. The muscles rapidly tighten and loosen as the sensations grow. I wonder if this feather is enough. Can I make myself burst the way Harrow did?
Voices boom from just outside my door and I snatch my hand and the feather away, quickly shoving my nightgown down and drawing my sheets up to my chin.
More voices join the chorus and I realize it’s the changing of the guards stationed outside my room. My cheeks flush. There shouldn’t be any reason for them to come in my room. Only if there’s an emergency.
Toying with the feather, I mull it over. With a deep sigh and a drop of my shoulders, I give up on my feather venture. Not worth the mortification of getting caught doing it. The ache below goes untended. Squeezing my thighs together will have to suffice. The feather twirls between my fingertips as I’m swept beneath sleep’s dark wing. Maybe in my dreams, Harrow can finish what he started.
Harrow
Mytha’s burning green eyes glare up at me. Arms folded, forked tongue flicking impatiently. My right-hand is cross with me. Despite the way my towering form dwarfs her petite stature, Mytha has no problem squaring up to me.
“And what have I done this evening to garner your furious attentions?” The question rolls lazily from my lips as I lounge in my throne. My cheek rests upon my knuckles as boredom overtakes me. I’ve just arrived and I’m already desperate to return above. Despite my casual demeanor, I’m tightly strung. Lenore’s betrothed is dead. But what is the true cost of that death? And what does it mean for my sultry little raven? The entirety of the evening sits leaden in my stomach.
My question to Mytha is not received well. I watch it strike a nerve. I know exactly what I’ve done to infuriate her. I’m well aware of the risk I took. Rubbing my lips together, I search for any lingering traces of Lenore. The reward was far worth it.
Mytha hisses, eyes blazing. “You ssshowed her your monssster.” She’s not bothered to clothe herself. Her reptilian lower half swishes back and forth, tail whipping with irritation.
“Ah, that.” I twirl a worn rib bone between my fingers. “It would seem my control slipped for a brief moment.”
“Brief? You chasssed her, caught her, and let your shadowsss?—”
“The lapse in control was longer than I would have liked,” I snap back. Not that I regret my time spent with Lenore. The taste of her glistening pussy is something I’ll think about every second of the day until I get my mouth on her soft flesh once more.
“You were gone for hoursss. The water dropped dangerousssly low.”
My gaze turns to the swirling pool in the center of my chamber. Its waters glow green as my magic fuels the waterfall that feeds the river of souls. More hours must have passed than I realized when I left to attend the ball. Time slips by so quickly whenever I’m near Lenore. “The water level has already risen significantly.”
“They were climbing the banksss. You cut it too clossse. If one of them
had gotten free…” She doesn’t need to remind me of what happens when souls sneak free from their prisons. The patches of scorched earth I see from my balcony each day are reminder enough.
