Page 20 of The Deathless One
“Ah, there’s the feral creature who bartered for her life. A life that I gave back to you as the benevolent god that I am.” He continued circling, then crouched in front of her, a hulking beast prickling with thorns. “Now, tell me again why you think I will not control every action you take from here on out.”
Confidence surged through her veins. She tilted her chin up, watching as he stood again and meandered behind her. Circling again like some great bird of prey. “Because I summoned you only to speak, Deathless One. You cannot touch me, just as you cannot control me until I give you physical form.”
Again she felt his cold presence leaning over her, the whisper of his words chilling her ear. “Are you so sure about that?”
She froze as a ghostly hand wrapped around her throat from behind.
No, not ghostly. It was an actual hand. Long, thick fingers, scarred tips brushing against her pulse as he tightened his grip. By the gods, he could nearly encircle her entire throat and his fingers would touch. How big was this man?
“You aren’t supposed to be able to touch me,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Gravesingers are connected to their gods. Any god, really. All you need is a deep feeling. One that sometimes you cannot control.” Again his voice whispered in her ear, sending waves of ice through her veins. That deep growl seemed to hum with desire. “Hate is a strong enough emotion. I can work with hate. Even though I would entertain you if it was something more… pleasurable for the both of us.”
“This isn’t real,” she croaked.
His hand tightened. There was no real threat, just the feeling of his fingers around her neck and the slightest pressure as he lifted her. Her spine bumped against a strong figure, the sensation of muscles and heat pressed against her in a decidedly sinful way.
She should have been afraid. She should have wriggled in his grasp and told him to unhand her because he would leave bruises like Leon. But that wasn’t how she felt.
All she could focus on was the hand around her throat, how those fingers so carefully held her. Then she could only hold her breath as his other hand slid across her belly, lingering where her stomach had hollowed at his touch. His words inspired ice, but his touch made her burn.
His hand suddenly tightened around her throat as his gravelly voice ground out, “Tell me this doesn’t feel real to you. If you want, I could seduce you. I could reach into your thoughts and play out all your deepest desires. If you wish for me to service you when I return to life, I will do so. Have you ever wanted a god to worship you, Jessamine?”
Images of what that might look like flickered in her mind. She almost wanted him to get on his knees for her. What would it feel like to have that much power over someone brimming with magic?
This wasn’t real, she told herself. It was an illusion. Because he wasn’t here. She had to have faith in the spell she had cast, so no matter how hard he squeezed, no matter how much it felt like she had to hold her breath, it wasn’t actually happening.
“You’re not here,” she wheezed. “This is… all in my head.”
“Is it?” Every muscle in her body clenched, and that strange heat seared through her as his lips brushed against the seashell of her ear and his voice rumbled. “Then perhaps we should see how far I can go before this dream turns into a nightmare.”
Should she let him? That hand on her stomach flexed, his fingers brushing down until they touched one of her hips, his pinky hovering over the other. He was so muchlargerthan her. She hadn’t realized it until this moment, when he’d almost consumed her. Enveloped her. Dragged her deeper into this darkness that whispered,You want this.
She’d wanted to feel powerful, hadn’t she? Bending a god to her will would do that. Making a god service her, telling him exactly what she wanted and where she wanted him to touch.
All it would take was a single nod. She just had to let him know, and she knew those wicked fingers would slide between her legs. He would touch her, finding her wet and waiting for him to bring her to that pleasure that no man had managed before. But surely a god…
He’d inspired madness—a seed of insanity in her mind—because this was not her. She’d never had thoughts like this before. Gasping, she wrenched herself free of his grip. She had to get away from him, from what he would do…
From how he made her feel.
Rioting emotions turned her head upside down and inside out. She didn’t know what he wanted from her, or what she wanted from him. The strange heat wouldn’t let her go, not even when she knocked over the candle and scrambled away from him.
Her back hit the altar hard enough that the slab groaned, shifting on its base even as he strode toward her. “You’re not real. All of this is an illusion you’ve cast,” she muttered.
The Deathless One paused in front of her, waiting for her eyes to trail up his impossibly tall form before he growled, “You and I are bound, Jessamine. Have you forgotten that? I gave you life. No spell can keep me away from you. Not even you can control that.”
But then a gust of wind blew through the shattered window, and his form disappeared on the tail of it.
She was left alone in the dark room with a guttering candle lying on its side and the scattered remains of a spell that hadn’t worked. Or maybe it had worked too well.
She stood, shook herself off, and closed the spell book like its pages were the cause of all this. Feeling stripped and hollow, she ran her shaking fingers through her hair. What had that been? How had he made her feel like that?
Carefully gathering the spell book, she clutched it to her chest and made her way to the door. She knocked on it, hesitant in her hope that she wouldn’t have to spend the night in here until she finally decided to free the Deathless One.
“Sybil?” she called out. “Can I please come out now?”
Silence from the other side made her stomach twist with nausea. Was this the plan? Were they going to lock her in here, starving her in the hopes that she would eventually give in?
