Page 61 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

His expression twisted to sadness, and he shook his head.

“Tell me!” In my frustration, I tightened my grasp, not meaning to, but the way his lips parted and his head tipped slightly back told me he enjoyed it. “Is this what you like? To be handled roughly?”

“Harder.” He spat the word like poison on his tongue.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I gripped him tighter.

His muscles sagged, eyes shuttering closed. “Use your nails.”

But as I reluctantly dug my fingers into him, he shook his head.

“No. The others.”

A chill surged through my blood when it occurred to me what he meant. “But that will hurt you.”

He rubbed his hand down his face and shook his head again, not bothering to lower his arm. “I can’t do this to you, Lunamiszka. I won’t. Please go.”

Frustrated, I took hold of him with the other hand, and a low, husky sound of pleasure rolled in his throat.

“Is this what you want, then?” I curled those ominous metallic nails into his undying erection and, through a shield of tears, watched his eyes shutter, his head tilt back.

The vicious tips sank into his flesh, and my heart withered at the pained sound that spilled from his lips.

Conflict burned inside of me, the need to prove that he could trust me, coupled with the agony of hurting him. Physically inflicting pain.

“Harder,” he rasped.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, as my nails sank deeper.

He let out a moan, his body shuddering, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the bathtub.

His hand slipped beneath the water, his palm swallowing the back of mine as he doubled the tension, his jaw clenched so hard, the veins in his neck popped.

Panic wound through me. It was too much.

You’re hurting him! Stop!

“Zevander, please,” I whispered.

He ground his teeth, circling his hips beneath me, and let out a pained sound in his throat. Water splashed with the fervent shaking of his muscles, his face contorted in anguish.

“Zevander, look at me.”

He kept his eyes closed, and I couldn’t stand to imagine who, or what, flickered through his thoughts right then.

“Open your eyes,” I demanded. “Open them and look at me.”

Keeping on with the torment, he screwed his eyes tighter, lost in his own silent agony, and released a guttural grunt. The trembles wracking his body vibrated through me, an echo of his pain moving through me like whispers from a grave.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please look at me.” Still, he refused to open his eyes, and with my hand still wrapped around him, I leaned closer and gripped the back of his head, pressing my forehead to his. “ I’m here with you. Not the one who hurt you. Me. ”

His body jerked and contracted. A sharp stream of white, warm fluid shot up from the water between us with such force, it breached the surface.

A deep rumble vibrated in his chest, a primal sound that shook my nerves, weighted equally by pleasure and misery. His body twitched and convulsed, each violent spasm sending a powerful swell of liquid shooting upward, his muscles rippling beneath my palm as I clutched his shoulder.

I finally released him, looking down to see the water had darkened even more than before, where it had filled with fresh blood.

A sob clamored in my chest, begging to cut loose, but I held it back, shaking as I watched his blood absorb into the white cotton shift I wore.

The evidence of what I’d done to him, clinging to me.

A shaky breath escaped me, the urge to cry rising to my throat.

His brows came together in an expression of utter relief, until he tipped his head forward, opening his eyes on me.

I only imagined the look on my face must’ve been a cross between horror and confusion, the way he lowered his gaze and pushed my hand away. “Forgive me,” he said, coldly. As he pushed up to exit the bath, a bolt of rage tore through me.

“No.” I took hold of his arm and gave a hard yank, which did little to move him. “You will not…let me hurt you, and then proceed to push me away.”

Shame burned in his eyes, and he rubbed a hand down his face. “I should not have asked you to do that. Gods damn my soul, what have I done?”

My mind spun in chaos, as my head tried to reconcile what had just happened between us.

It hadn’t been beautiful, or loving— nor gentle, or kind.

A cruel darkness had slithered between us and eroded whatever I’d dared to imagine of intimacy between him and me.

Not that I had imagined much, having come from a place where women were treated as nothing more than property. Or pets.

And yet, in spite of my discomfort, he’d done exactly as I’d asked.

He’d shown me exactly what lived inside of him. What coursed through his veins like poison. What tormented him so profoundly, only the edge of a blade could bring him comfort.

It didn’t matter that I felt like a monster, no better than the abuser who’d hurt him long ago. He’d shown me the truth burrowed deeply in his bones.

Who was I to judge him for it?

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

“I manipulated you. Took advantage of your innocence.”

“Enough, Zevander!” That he insisted on shouldering it all himself, insisted on guarding my virtue even then, grated on my already reeling nerves.

“I am a grown woman. I make my own decisions. You didn’t force my hand, I willingly put it there.

And I will not allow you to carry this guilt like an iron anvil chained around your neck.

But now I need something in return.” I cursed the tears burning in my eyes when the emotions inside of me screamed like a hot kettle.

“Of course.” He surged forward, urging my body back against the edge of the tub, and his lips found the curve of my neck, while his hand slipped up the clinging hem of my sopping wet shift, between my thighs.

I jerked backward and gripped his arm before he could reach the flesh he sought. “Not this. This is not what I need from you.”

He wore a look of confusion as he sat back on his heels, his massive, wounded body an impenetrable wall of suffering. “What is it, then? What do you want? Tell me, and I will give it to you.”

It was clear to me that he didn’t associate affection, or intimacy, with what we’d done. For him, it was nothing more than an exchange of services. Favors. Pain for pleasure.

I lifted my gaze to his, pushed up onto my knees, and pressed against his abdomen, urging him back down into the water.

Once he settled himself again, I crawled onto his lap, avoiding his new cuts, and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his neck.

“This. This is what I want. This is all I ask in exchange. I want you to know that what I did to you was not out of malice, or hate.”

For a moment, he sat frozen, muscles locked and rigid, scarcely breathing. Then strong arms enveloped my body, and I felt him shudder around me. Weeping? He made no sound to confirm.

Tears sprang to my eyes at the realization that he must’ve grown accustomed to weeping silently, alone.

Or worse: That he’d been given little opportunity to acknowledge the trauma he’d suffered, forced to reciprocate for his abuser.

The thought of such a thing brought more tears to my eyes, and I held him tighter.

“If pain is what you crave, then I will give it to you,” I whispered.

“Your first experiences should be beautiful and gentle, Maevyth. Not this.”

“And what of yours?” I pushed up from him, looking him in the eyes. “Was yours beautiful and gentle?”

The way his brows tightened stirred a violent anger in my ribs. I wanted to tear through the past and throttle the wretched soul who’d stolen that from him.

The fury burned in my chest with a vengeance, and through tears, I clenched my teeth.

“You didn’t force it upon me. You didn’t take from me without asking.

But it is not my nature to hurt those I care about.

So I need to be comforted, too. I need assurance that you don’t perceive me as your abuser. ”

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry. I won’t ask you again, I swear it.”

“Do you feel the same relief without the pain?”

A grim expression crawled over his face. “No.”

“But back at Elowen’s…when you and I…You seemed very contented that night.”

He turned slightly away, and the shame from before resurfaced in his expression. “I summoned the flame. In my hands. I finished because I summoned the flame, and the metal…”

“The piercings…you burned yourself. So, it will always be this way?”

“Even if I were willing to try without the pain. So long as the piercings remain, I’ll never know true pleasure without it. I’ll always crave it.”

“You can’t remove them?”

“No. They’re enchanted.”

“You can experience relief this way, though. And you do glean pleasure from it, in spite of the pain.”

“Yes, but I won’t ask you?—”

“You haven’t asked me once. Not once. In fact, you did a damn good job of hiding it.

But you don’t have to hide anymore. I am offering to do it again, on one condition.

” Hooking my finger beneath his chin, I guided his eyes back to mine.

“I need you to assure me that I haven’t destroyed you by doing this.

That you can feel something more than the ecstasy of pain, knowing that it’s me and not the one who hurt you.

That you let me show you what love and caring feels like, to balance these dark thoughts you carry. ”

At first, he stared off toward the water, gaze vacant and unblinking, his breaths slow and measured.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, a betrayal of the silent battle behind his eyes.

The misty shield in them threatened to break, but he clenched his teeth, swallowing it back, and lifted his gaze to mine.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked, cupping his cheek. When he shook his head, I threaded my fingers in his hair and kissed his forehead. “Tell me.”