Page 50 of The Deathless One (The Gravesinger #1)
He could still taste her on his tongue, and she tasted like ambrosia. Elric found himself licking his lips constantly, a reminder of what they had done. But of course, it wasn’t the same as the real thing. In his realm, everything was dulled.
It was the reason he’d refused to finish the job.
He couldn’t. How could she expect him to enjoy this feast of the most divine nature right in front of him, knowing that this realm dulled his senses?
That nothing was as good if he didn’t have a real body?
She tortured him by coming here, and he was the fool who could deny her nothing.
He wanted to feel her. Actually feel how warm she was, how good she felt in his hands.
He wanted to know the full extent of her flavor and the sound of her cries not muffled by dark magic.
But most of all, Elric wanted to focus on her and nothing else while there were no curses pulling at him.
No lingering gravesingers with whom he’d done this before, with so many other witches as a way to control them or for them to control him, and surely she felt tainted with his tongue buried so deep inside her?
He was a monster who had feasted upon her flesh. A monster who wanted her to see him as a man.
Sighing, he walked through his dark realm and waited for her to call upon him.
He had enough power to go to her, but the stronger their connection grew, the more that felt as though he was violating her privacy.
She hadn’t summoned him in a few days, and that was an issue.
What if something had happened? Surely he would have felt her pain, like he had before.
But she hadn’t gone this long in months without summoning him.
And then the gravesingers started whispering from their chains. She got what she wanted out of you. No witch can ever truly be trusted. He knew that better than most.
She’d wanted pleasure, or perhaps to discover what it was like to lie with a god. She had weighed and measured his talents, and then she had found him lacking.
He should have cut out their tongues when he bound them.
But those dark thoughts boiled through him as he waited.
Because he always waited. For her, he would wait a century, and yet it would forever sting as well.
What if she wanted nothing to do with him now?
What if he had read her completely and utterly wrong?
So when he felt the tug between them, a call from his nightmare to him, he answered so fast it made him dizzy.
Struggling to stand, he forced himself to wear a mask of indifference.
He needed her to think that he didn’t care.
Nothing she could do would impact him, certainly not.
He was a god, and he was not hung up on a little mortal witch who was nothing more than a beautiful tool, albeit more a witch’s knife than a blunt and boring hammer.
He expected her to say that what they had done was wrong. That she had thought more about his past and what he had told her, and that she was disgusted by him.
But instead, he found himself standing before her in the middle of the public baths.
No one else was here. Why would they be?
It was the middle of the night, and the air made little clouds every time she exhaled.
She stood in the moonlight, half-dressed just outside a pool that would normally be full of people, but tonight it was so cold ice formed at its edges.
And this witch, this princess, didn’t hesitate to drag an ice-cold wet cloth over her bare legs. She didn’t flinch or complain, she just accepted her fate and took the bitter sting.
She looked so beautiful standing there in nothing but her shirt skimming her thighs, with her hair cascading down her shoulders, unbound and wild as he liked it.
The moonlight caressed her features, all that bare skin so tempting, even though he didn’t know where he stood with her.
What if she didn’t want to see him? What if this was all some terrible meeting where she would finally admit that their experience had meant nothing?
But Jessamine didn’t even look at him. She just kept washing her legs and quietly said, “You realize that we’re distracting each other?”
His stomach sank. “I do.”
“I don’t want to stop whatever it is between us. I don’t want to look at you and wonder what might have been. But we do need to figure out how to do this and still get my throne back.”
The tension in his belly eased a bit. But only a bit. “I know you have a mission to finish, and I am here only to see you succeed.”
“I don’t think that’s the only reason you’re here.
” She froze mid-movement, her leg braced on the pool’s stone edge and her hair falling over her shoulder.
She was a picture in this moment that any artist would wish to paint.
A maiden in a pool of water, a temptation to all men and yet the picture of innocence.
His scar writhed on her neck, catching the moonlight. However barbaric it was, he was pleased to have marked her permanently. The magic deep in her wound kept her alive, although she likely had no idea.
There was so much he hadn’t told her. So much she didn’t know.
Like the shards of her soul he kept locked away in his realm. Why? He didn’t know. He should have given them back by now, but if he had, then there would be nothing to guide him to her in the shadows. He needed that direct connection. And perhaps he needed a piece of her for himself as well.
Elric met her gaze, his own softening at the hope he could see in her eyes. “I am an ancient being, Jessamine. I am not here for what you imagine.”
“A girl can hope.”
“Indeed, you can.” He took a step closer, watching her body to see if she reacted in any way that would suggest she didn’t want this. “But you are not opposed to continuing… this?”
She arched a brow. “I was the one who wanted to continue, in case you forgot. You were the one who turned me down.”
A sudden rush of understanding went straight to his head. For a moment, he was lightheaded with relief and the many layers of hope that coiled around his neck.
Elric lunged for her. His hand scooped through her hair to hold on to the back of her neck while he jerked her forward.
The kiss he gave her was all-consuming, devouring, not sweet or tender, but a claiming.
She needed to know that she was his. He wanted her more than anything else he’d ever wanted, and the fact that she wanted him back?
Oh, it seared him to the bone.
When he was satisfied that he’d stolen her wits with his kiss, he took two large steps away. Breathing hard. But this was important, and it had to be said.
“You know why I stopped what we started.”
Her gaze shuttered, and he knew that was the wrong thing to say. Because no matter how close they had gotten to each other, no matter how much he wished to be real again, she wasn’t going to do it. Not yet, anyway.
But something in him whispered to continue. To see just how far he could push her.
Moving behind her as she turned back to her ablutions, he hooked her with his arm and held her close. The sharp gasp she let out made him painfully hard, but this wasn’t the moment to indulge themselves. Instead, he trailed his hand down her arm until he could hold the bathing cloth she clutched.
“I can see how cold this is,” he murmured in her ear, trailing his lips down her neck. “But I cannot feel it. Not in this form, and not in my realm. My desire to become real has been inflamed by my need for you, Jessamine.”
“You know why I cannot summon you. Not in the way that you wish.”
“Because you don’t trust me?” He lifted their arms together, watching the moonlight filter through their twined fingers as she dropped the cloth. “You said you would trust me with your life. What difference is it to resurrect me?”
“Do I trust you with the life of my kingdom, the lives of my people? I don’t know yet.”
“Ah, and you were also the one who said you would never sacrifice me. You vowed it, as I recall. Which means, nightmare, you clearly think more highly of me than the other witches I have known.” Elric couldn’t help himself.
He drew her hand to his cheek, stroking his own face with her hand.
She didn’t fight him, though, almost as though she wished to touch him like this.
“You want me. I’d dare to say you need me, in this form and in whatever way I would give myself to you. Am I wrong?”
Leaning her head back against his shoulder, Jessamine watched him touch himself. Her eyes were half-open, her movements languid as desire saturated her bones. “No, you aren’t wrong.”
“And yet you hesitate.”
She did. Of course she did. It was the smart decision, too, because none of them knew what would happen if he was released. Even he wasn’t sure. Elric had so many plans and thoughts and intentions of what and who he would become when he finally joined the living again.
But somehow, they’d all changed.
She’d changed what he wanted.
Letting her hand drop, he took a step back from her and gave her a small nod. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Her wide eyes saw too much. She saw his disappointment and all the horror in his past. Perhaps she even saw the self-hatred that radiated throughout his entire being.
He hated that she knew what he was. Who he was. But also what had been done to him. So instead of responding, he just nodded.
“I see.” She sighed. “Then I suppose we should talk about our next step in this plan. We still need to find Callum.”
“It seems logical.” Although he still wasn’t sure why. “Who was he in the castle again?”
“The head of the royal guard and my mother’s lover for many years.” Stepping off the stone edge, she padded over to a shadowy corner where she had stowed her pants. “He practically raised me, so I think it’s rather important to know why he betrayed us.”