Page 30 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MAEVYTH

A jarring thud tore me from sleep, and I jolted upright, the reflex knocking my foot against something. The book I’d been reading had fallen off my lap and lay splayed like a broken bird on the floor.

Wind howled against the thin panes of glass, and twisting around in the rocking chair, I noticed the cabin felt too quiet.

“Zevander?” I called out for him, my nerves rattled from the abrupt waking.

Glancing around the room showed no sign of him. Frowning, I pushed to my feet, and a quick sweep of the back bedroom showed no sign of him there, either. When I arrived at Aleysia’s door, I peered inside, hearing no more than her quiet snores on the other side.

Where is he?

Passing the window, I caught sight of a figure on the porch, and my heart shot to my throat. Eyes narrowed, I studied the hulking, shadowy form that blocked out the moon’s light.

Zevander?

I darted across the cabin toward the door and swung it open.

With his back to me, Zevander didn’t move, or even twitch at my presence. I noticed something dangling from his fist. A white rabbit, covered in what I presumed to be blood, though it was too dark to confirm. The frenzied kicking of its legs told me it was still alive.

Slowly, I rounded Zevander’s body, coming to a stop at his side.

A dark sheen across his mouth and chin had me questioning if that black glisten was blood smeared across his face, as well.

His eyes were fixated on something out in the expanse of the yard, but when I slowly turned to look, I saw nothing.

“Zevander?”

He turned and seemed to look past me, his eyes unfocused and as black as onyx, and as he did so, light from the hovel showed a faint red hue to the glossy mess across his chin. Definitely blood.

“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“Death.”

I let out a shaky breath and turned toward the yard. Dozens of glowing eyes stared back at me. Gasping, I reached out for Zevander’s arm, clutching his bicep. “Come, we have to go inside. Now.”

“Te’igniret abysira.”

“Get inside, Zevander. Now!”

The scattering of eyes in the field blinked in unison, as if belonging to a single creature, and I yanked harder on his arm.

“Zevander!”

He closed his eyes, head lopping forward, but he remained standing.

“Damn it, Zevander! Wake up!”

His muscles contracted sharply. His eyelids shot open. When he looked at me, the black had given way for the familiar color I recognized. “Maevyth?”

A breath of relief escaped me, but only briefly, because when I turned, dozens of pale, white creatures barreled across the yard toward us on their long spider legs.

“Inside. Now!”

He gave one quick glance toward those terrifying beasts, then banded his arm around me and dragged me into the cabin, slamming the door behind us. “What in seven hells?” He lifted the rabbit, and in the hearth’s light, I spied a raw patch of glistening flesh where it’d been bitten.

My eyes instantly darted to the mess on Zevander’s face. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know. I was out hunting earlier. There was …” His brow furrowed as if he struggled to remember. “A deer. A deer in the woods. I tracked him for a bit. Then I somehow lost sight in the fog and came upon this enormous, rotted tree. It gave me such a strange sense.”

“What kind of sense?”

The crease in his brow deepened. “Dread.” He stared off for a moment, before a twitch in his arm seemed to break his thoughts. Lifting the rabbit again, he twisted it around, then laid it down on the floor, where it kicked and panted.

“This is happening too frequently. These moments of wakeful dreaming…I fear they’re getting worse.” I snatched a rag from the table and dipped it into the basin, squeezing away the excess water, and when I turned around, he was right there, caging me between the table and his massive body.

Eyes on mine, he reached for the cloth in my hands and wiped away the blood from his face.

As I turned to walk away, he gripped my arm.

“It’s your distance that’s driving me mad.

” Eyes clenched, he shook his head and pressed my hand to his chest. “I didn’t mean for that to sound like blame.

” He dragged my palm from his chest to his abdomen, his muscles twitching beneath my skin.

“I do not welcome anyone’s touch, but I’ve craved yours with the kind of voracity that makes me question my morals. ”

“Zevander, it’s for your benefit that I keep my distance. The more intimate we are, the harder it’ll be to—” I clamped my lips over the words I refused to say.

“To what? Say it.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I shook my head, blinking them away.

I refused to slip into my selfish emotions.

If we failed to find the vivicantem, he would be forced to return to Aethyria—regardless of his promise.

Creating distance would make that easier.

“Every day that you deny yourself vivicantem, I fear that something terrible will happen to you. I refuse to be the reason you stay. I refuse to watch you decline here.”

“And I refuse to return without you.” He stepped closer, pressing himself against my body. “Enough of this.”

My emotions snapped free. “Enough of your promises that you know damn well you can’t keep!

” I shoved at his chest, failing to move him, his body a steel wall of tenacity.

“Your episodes are only going to get worse and if there is no vivicantem at Moros’s?

You won’t have a choice. You’ll have to return. ”

“Where did the stones come from?”

“Moros said he mined them from the Lyverian Mountains.”

“Then we’ll head to the Lyverian Mountains. Either way, I’m not leaving you.” Jaw clenched, he looked away. “Keep your distance, if that’s what you choose, but don’t do it for me.”

Too many thoughts clashed inside my head, a clamor that beat against my skull like a pack of rabid dogs had been set loose—pawing, growling, biting.

The air around me shifted, crackling and vibrating.

The delicate beat between thunder and lightning.

I moved on instinct, surging up to my toes and wrapping my arms around his neck.

A desperate need took over me, and I seized his mouth.

Swift hands lifted me up onto the table, and his body urged me onto my back. Fingers sank into my hair, his breaths forced, hands shaking, clutching me like he thought I might vanish any moment. With our mouths fused, he kissed me harder, unwilling to part for a single breath.

I gasped into his mouth, and still, he refused to release me.

His lips consumed me, frantic and starved.

“I tried to stay away from you,” he rasped, before moving to my cheek, my chin, my throat, as if he couldn’t decide where to begin, or how to stop himself.

“I tried to respect your wishes.” He dragged his mouth over my collarbone and bit down at the crook of my neck.

I arched against him on a moan and firm hands pressed into the curve of my back, pulling me in tighter.

“I can’t. I need this. Your hands on me.

” Tugging the collar of my tunic just enough to expose my shoulder, he kissed along the length of it.

“The pain of wanting you is like fucking blades in my chest.” His groin pressed into my thighs, the thick bulge straining against his leathers proving his words to be true.

He straightened and tore away his tunic, leaving his muscled chest bare.

Yanking my wrists, he reeled me closer, against his stomach, which flexed the moment I touched him.

I dragged my hands to his back and kissed his chest. “I wanted you, too,” I whispered against his skin. As my tongue traced his nipple, he tipped his head back and released a deep, guttural sound that reminded me of an animal.

Taking hold of his arm, I urged his hand up, under the hem of my tunic to my breast, needing his touch as much as he needed mine.

A calloused finger caressed my nipple and his lips clamped onto my throat.

Every night that we’d danced around each other in avoidance had felt like punishment.

Fingers curled into his sides, I pulled him into me, as I lay back against the table, and he followed me down, bracing his elbows at either side of my head.

After pausing for only a moment, kissing the spot right behind my ear, he wrenched my trousers down to my thighs, his gaze as reverent as a devout man falling to his knees before an altar.

His eyes darkened with whatever thoughts had him licking his lips, and leaning over me once more, he trailed his tongue down my body to the dip between my breasts.

My lips parted on an eager breath, and when he kissed my stomach, I gripped his hair with a trembling exhale.

He traced his nose over my bare flesh, breathing deeply and his fingers curled into my sides.

“I’m starving for you,” he said in a ragged voice, then dragged a chair close and fell into the seat.

“But I’m going to take my time and savor it.

Every drop of you.” Strong hands gripped the back of my knees, as he yanked me closer to the edge of the table, his gaze both hungry and reverent.

The moment he buried his face between my thighs, and lazily dragged his tongue over my sensitive flesh, I arched my back, and my mouth gaped for a tortured moan.

“Cursed heavens, there is nothing more divine than that sound,” he said, and buried his tongue deeper, my body restless and squirming, thighs trembling, clinging to him like wet silk.

Fingers threading through his hair, I rested my feet against his muscled thighs, bracing myself for the warm swells of pleasure moving through me.