Page 42 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

L ightning cracked the sky outside, illuminating the unfamiliar shapes of the furniture in Rokath’s room.

Hours had passed since he left me here, and now the dogs and I lay in bed, waiting for his return.

The intensity of emotion flooding our bond told me the conversation with Xannirin and Kiira wasn’t going well.

Resisting the urge to reach into his mind was harder with every minute he was away.

I wanted to trust that when he returned, he’d lower his walls and tell me everything.

Our relationship was growing stronger with each moment of vulnerability we shared.

But the storm swirling inside him was even stronger than the one brewing beyond the stone walls surrounding me.

So I built a strong barrier around my mind, trying to give him the space and privacy he needed to handle his affairs, and watched the dark clouds roll in off the angry sea.

Grem snuffed, wriggling closer to me. His long fur was still slightly damp from the bath I’d given him and Zeec, after which, I’d needed another too.

At least the smell of wet dogs had abated.

Sighing, I wrapped my arms around him and tugged him closer.

Zeec rose, shook himself off, and curled up at my back until I was sandwiched between the two of them.

A violent fissure split the sky, the tower shuddering in its wake.

Then, rain pelted the windows. The rhythmic sound soothed my racing mind, and cocooned in the warmth of the hounds, my eyes drifted lower and lower with each passing blink. I yawned, trying to remain awake. More rumbles rolled overhead, combining with the rain as I drifted, drifted, drifted…

A crack like a whip filled the air, and I jerked awake.

A brief flash illuminated a shadow standing in front of me.

The air lodged in my throat as I gasped.

Thunder boomed, and I sat upright, scanning the dark.

All the candles had gone cold, and no light remained in the space.

Clutching my chest, my racing heart beat into my hand.

Lightning crackled again, revealing the broken figure of my mate.

Braced against the wooden post at the foot of the bed, his head hung low and heavy.

Grem and Zeec both grumbled their displeasure as I crawled from between them and toward Rokath.

I reached for him just as another flash filled the room.

When he lifted those burgundy eyes to meet mine, his pain slipped a knife between my ribs. “Come here,” I said softly, reaching for his arm. My fingers barely grasped his muscled bicep as I tried to tug him closer. He shook his head.

“I can’t protect you, Assyria.” His breath reeked of alcohol, and my brows pinched. Rokath rarely drank, and for him to smell like Vagach had—even more so really—the day I killed him was alarming.

“What are you talking about? Of course you can. You’re the only one who can,” I tried to reassure him, but he backed away. Cursing, I slid off the bed, his tunic nearly swimming down to my knees. I fumbled my way to the bedside table and found the matches I’d used earlier to light the candles .

Striking one, I managed to illuminate a nibble of space. I started when I saw the hour. Three . How long had I slept? How long had Rokath spoken with his cousins?

My mate sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands. I went to him, bracing my palms on his shoulders. They were hard as rocks beneath my fingers. I massaged them gently, hoping to ease some of whatever was eating at him.

He looked up at me again. “I am a selfish, selfish male. I crave you more than I should.”

He captured my waist and brought me closer. I spread my legs and settled onto his lap so we were eye to eye. The candlelight cast his tattoos in haunting relief, especially the empty-eyed skulls on his neck.

Spicy scale assaulted my nostrils as he spoke again. “I’d do far too much to have even one of your unguarded smiles. To bury my nose in your hair and inhale the scent of you. To feel you writhe beneath me. To chase you all so I can claim you over and over again.”

“Rokath, what’s going on?” I asked him, cupping his face. A muscle feathered in his jaw, and I moved my fingers to his jaw and rubbed circles there. A long groan escaped him as he relaxed into my touch. “Why are you so drunk?”

“I am not–”

“Yes, you are,” I snapped, ceasing my massage. “I’m very familiar with the smell.”

Fire ignited in his eyes. “I want to rip them apart. Limb by limb. Peel off their skin. Make them hurt .”

“The Angels?” I clarified.

“The nobles. The people who harm females. The Angels. All of them,” he growled, and the violence threaded in his tone raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

“But especially Vagach. Fuck, Assyria, I’m so proud of you for killing that pig.

But I need to avenge you. For everything. You’re mine to protect. But I can’t.”

Rokath was rambling, nearly incoherent, and more than a few words came out slurred. “You can–”

“No,” he snarled and my teeth clicked shut. “They took you, Assyria. What if something worse had happened to you? What if they’d tried to rape you?”

My gut churned at the memory of Zaph’s belt coming undone. I hadn’t meant to keep that moment from Rokath as much as I’d blocked it out myself. But I couldn’t tell him in this state. Fates only knew what he would do.

Yet, he must have been listening to my thoughts, because fury etched his features a moment later. “Before I sever his head, I’ll crown you in his bones. While he is still breathing. So he can see who he dared touch.”

My breath hitched and core clenched simultaneously. “Tell me what’s going on, Rokath,” I whispered. His emotions still swirled like the violent storm outside.

“Xannirin…Kiira…” he paused, shaking his head.

I adjusted myself so I braced on his shoulders again.

They sagged forward, and he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

I held him even closer, squeezing him as hard as I could.

He needed my support, yet he was unable to voice the words to request it.

“Xannirin was so angry when I told him everything. He wanted to take you away from me. To take you back to Uzhhorod where you’d be safe. I went insane at the thought. But he was right, you would be better off there.”

“No,” I said firmly. “My place is by your side.”

He picked his head up and rested his forehead against mine.

“That’s where I want you, always. It terrifies me.

Fuck, I’ve never felt this way before and I still don’t know how to cope with it.

I want to take care of you. I want to be the male you deserve, especially after the way we shaped society to treat you. I regret so much.”

I scratched his beard, massaging his jaw again. “I know. But you’re making changes, right?”

He nodded, his eyes briefly closing. “Xannirin fought Kiira and me about it. For so long I thought I was alone in the resentment I held toward him. Turns out Kiira felt the same. Now I don’t have to squash it anymore.”

“Let’s go to bed. I want you to hold me,” I murmured. My heart burned for him, for the intensity of emotion roaring inside him. He needed to sleep off the alcohol so he could have a clear head in the morning. In his state, there was really no convincing him that he was doing enough to protect me.

“I can do that,” he acquiesced, rising with me in his arms. He carried me to the bed, lowering me with a reverence that left me aching.

Then, he yanked his shirt overhead, not bothering to unbutton it, and stepped out of his boots.

Lightning cracked again, revealing the chiseled cut of his torso.

He shucked off his pants a moment later, baring himself to me.

With a groan, he leaned over me, forcing me to lie flat on my back as he caged me in with his hard body. Against my thigh, his dick thickened. “I need you, Assyria. I need to feel something other than this pain.”

I nodded, breath stuttering from the intensity of his gaze. Bracing on one hand, he skimmed my thigh, lifting the hem of his shirt higher and revealing my center. The cool night air ghosting across my skin sent a shiver down my spine.

“Sit up,” he commanded, leaning back to give me space. I did, and he tore his shirt over my head. He swept his eyes over me with the hunger of a starved man.

Curving down, he captured my back and brought his mouth to one nipple, licking and sucking it with wild abandon. My thighs dampened as he flooded me with sensation. I dug my nails into his scalp and pressed, silently asking for more. He delivered with expert precision.

Rokath edged fully onto the bed, pinning me beneath him and shooing the dogs simultaneously. A primal rumble vibrated in his chest as he continued to work on my other nipple, drawing it to as sharp a peak as the other. All the while, I melted beneath him, wetness seeping from my core.

“Rokath,” I pleaded, arching into him. As drunk as he was, he held a deep need for this connection with me. To heal him. To heal me.

He raked his teeth over my sensitive bud, then released it.

His mouth mapped a trail between my breasts and down my torso, so tortuously slow, like he was worshipping every place his lips touched me.

When he reached my hip bones, he kissed each of them before moving lower.

His breath dusted across my overheated center.

“Fuck, your arousal smells divine. So fucking wet for me and I’ve barely touched you. ”

Rokath’s hot tongue skimmed the skin of my inner thigh.

Sharp teeth sank into the surface, drawing out a hint of pain.

More wetness dripped from me. Rokath captured it with a flick of his tongue, and I gasped.

His fingers swept through the rest of it, smearing it all along my slit.

Then, he sucked them into his mouth. “You taste better than victory. But it’s not enough. ”