Page 16 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

As much as I loathed the taste, I ate the remaining tomatoes in my bowl, determined to keep my strength up.

With a sigh, I stared at his untouched plate and glanced toward the bedroom, where he’d disappeared.

The door remained cracked, and while every fiber of my being longed to peek in on him, I grabbed Elowen’s book of spells and settled on the rocking chair by the hearth.

Not a single word of that damned book breached the worry that stirred in my head, though.

Through the crackle of burning wood, whispers reached my ear.

A sound of agony that had me setting down the book and tiptoeing toward that door.

Though the crack was narrow, I could see Zevander seated on the chair facing the window, his trousers shrugged down to his knees.

Scattered over the table beside him lay the collection of daggers that he unstrapped each night.

His bent elbow shook as his naked form hunched over himself. “Think of Maevyth,” he whispered. “My moon witch.”

Heat bloomed beneath my skin, a slow, tingling sensation palming the back of my neck. My pulse hastened as I watched him, a restless ache twisting in my chest. Hearing him speak of me had me wanting to go to him.

Don’t , my head warned. It was bad enough that I was spying on him.

Checking on him , my head argued back.

The large scorpion stirred to life, its insectile claws tapping against the tight bow of his back as it shifted about. Curls of smoke danced around the room, circling Zevander, before igniting into black flames. He grunted and groaned, the cords of muscle in his arm tense and stretched.

The scorpion’s sharp, metallic stinger rose upward, the pale moonbeams glinting off its silvery tip, before it sank into his tautened flesh.

My hands flew to my mouth, thinking him hurt, but instead, Zevander let out a sound of absolute ecstasy as the scorpion stung him over and over, frantically scampering across his back.

Frowning, I backed away from the door, the violent thud of my heart nearly audible as I hurried back to the rocking chair and swiped up the book. Words blurred on the page beneath the echoes of what I’d seen flashing through my mind.

His heavy breathing.

The grunts and moans.

The tension of his muscles.

The shock of having watched him pleasure himself that way dissolved into the horrific visuals of the scorpion attacking him.

Minutes passed before heavy footfalls interrupted my thoughts, and I forced myself to focus on the words scrawled across the page of my book. Zevander slumped into the chair beside mine, the bowl of food in his lap. Fresh sweat glistened over his bare chest that had regained its natural color.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Pardon?”

“You looked unwell while you were eating. I just wondered if you’re feeling better.”

“Yes. Much better.” He spooned some of the food into his mouth, paused a moment, then spooned another bite, more fervently than the last.

“You’ve worked up an appetite.”

“I’m famished.”

Go on. Ask him.

“I have a question. Did you… Were you relieving yourself just now?”

He held the spoon midway to his mouth and frowned, then lowered it back to his bowl. “Were you spying on me?”

“It’s hardly spying when the door is ajar.”

“It was hardly an invitation, either,” he countered in a sharp tone.

“I heard something and simply wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“What did you see?”

Nibbling on my lip was all I could do to calm my nerves.

“You were…undressed. On the chair.” I had to look away when the visuals of the scorpion sprang to mind again for fear he’d see the distress in my eyes.

“And I’m perfectly okay with whatever it is men need to do, but is it necessary to make a spectacle out of it?

What with the flames and your scorpion. If Aleysia does wake up, a sight like that will frighten her out of her wits and still her heart.

And then all of this will have been for nothing. ”

His brows lowered, and he tapped his spoon on the edge of the bowl. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that in such proximity. My apologies.” The way he spoke the words, his voice thick with remorse, left me questioning if I’d been too harsh.

“Why the scorpion? That’s your prod…prodo …”

“Prodozja.” He shrugged and spooned another bite into his mouth. “I’ve always had a connection with them.”

“How so?” I asked, intrigued.

“My mother was stung by a scorpion while pregnant with me. Thought she was going to lose the pregnancy, as ill as she got.”

“So, you have scorpion venom in your blood?”

“I suppose I do.”

I didn’t know why that fascinated me all the more.

My gaze fell on one of the veins sticking out from his neck, and a strange exhilaration moved through me.

Catching myself, I turned my attention toward the hearth fire.

“It is difficult, you know. Keeping distance from you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the bulge of his bicep, as he sat stroking a hand across his jaw.

“With you being an exceptionally built man walking around without shirts and trousers.”

The sudden turn of his gaze sent a flush of warmth to my cheeks. “Are you telling me the sight of my flesh is, in fact, stirring your desires?”

Brows raised, I huffed and flipped through pages of my book. “Clearly, it’s intentional, the way you find it so amusing.”

“I’ve not had intentions since you insisted that we remain apart. But now that I’m aware of the effect, it’ll be difficult to remain clothed.”

The comment yanked my attention to him. “You are not walking about without proper clothes with my sister no more than a room away.”

The corner of his lips curved into a fiendishly handsome smirk that irritated me. “Then, answer the question. I want to hear you say it.”

A surge of heat prickled my cheeks. “I’m sure it’s obvious.”

“No, I want to see those words pass your lips.”

A smile pulled at my lips, but I bit back the urge. “And if I refuse?”

He leaned back in the chair, his face smug. “Then, I refuse to train you.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “You’d endanger me for your silly games.”

“You’re not presently in danger.”

Gods, the man was relentless.

His brow lifted with an expectant expression.

“Fine. Fine! Yes, you’re stirring my desires. Happy now?”

“Very.” He spooned another bite, taking a moment to lick the utensil clean, the sight of it sending a twitch to my thighs. “You’re blushing again.”

“It’s the hearth,” I said coldly. “And my frustration. I’m warm.”

“You must be incredibly warm on the inside for such rosy cheeks.”

The amusement in his voice sharpened my annoyance. “If you insist on trying to draw me in with your teasing, then I’m going to busy myself with a book.” I lifted the book and feigned a smile before setting it back in my lap.

“And I’m afraid watching you read will only leave me with a longing to slip away again.”

“Are you so desperate for gratification that the banality of a woman reading stirs your loins?”

“I find you irresistible with a book in your hands. I’d venture to say it’s a rare woman who’d make the effort to learn spells and …” He lifted a second book from the small table beside the rocking chair. “Unusual mortal rituals.” He frowned, lowering it back down.

“Not many women are permitted to read. In fact, it was against the laws of the parish.”

“And yet, you learned anyway.”

“My grandfather insisted on it. He always said a well-read woman is a beautifully fearsome creature.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He was.” I smiled at the memory of him sneaking books into the house for me. “I was fortunate to be raised by him. For the time that I was given.”

“Well, how is this for a bargain …. I’ll wear proper attire, if you agree to read in private.”

“You’re truly affected by that?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Like your grandfather, I was raised to admire the beauty of an intelligent woman.”

“Rykaia reads, as well?”

“Rykaia reads, but she prefers fairytales of princes and maidens falling in love.”

“And you find that silly,” I said flatly.

“I find it impractical.”

“You don’t believe in love,” I countered.

“I’m skeptical of enduring love. It seems fleeting and fickle, which makes me question the point.”

I crossed my arms. “Please elaborate.”

He huffed and slowly nodded. “Imagine a storm on the sea. An unparalleled force, both powerful and… consuming . So utterly enthralling, it sweeps you out into the depths without your awareness. And at first, all is bliss. The waves, the exhilaration,” he drawled in a lazy cadence.

“You’re so blindly smitten, you hardly notice the black abyss creeping toward your feet. ”

“And what is this black abyss?”

“Disappointment.” He stared off toward the hearth. “The realization that what you thought was ecstasy was actually love’s demise.”

“You don’t trust love. Which must also mean you shun the Aethyrian idea of fated mates.”

His eyes sharpened in a way that left me questioning the truth of that. “Is that what you’ve gleaned from my cynicism?”

“I think you’ve read the wrong fairytales.”

“And how do your storybook maidens fare?”

“Well, first of all, they’re not fools who swim in a storm. And secondly, they don’t fear the abyss, however vast it may be. That bliss you described is what matters, even if love itself is fleeting. Its worth isn’t diminished by impermanence. Sometimes it’s best not knowing what lies below.”

His lips twitched, eyes narrowed on mine. “I fear you’re challenging my cynical nature, moon witch. Perhaps one of your spells.”

“Or maybe somewhere deep in the pitch blackness of your jaded heart, you actually believe in fairytales, after all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find a quiet, private , place to read.”