He had envied Inella all evening—in truth, he had envied them both—but he was not jealous until this moment.
Chapter Six
“Hell and blood, if I find that stinking whoreson I’ll tear him a new asshole! I’ll wear his teeth as a necklace! I’ll feed his foreskin to my dog!”
Viera stood in the little shop on Clove Street, one hand pressed to her mouth, and tried to stifle her giggles. She could just see the top of a head of disheveled sand-colored hair above the edge of the cluttered counter. Grunts and banging emanated from the space behind, then a spectacular crash, followed by a lengthy tinkling of broken glass.
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I won’t rest until I’ve pulled his toes from his feet, one by one! I’ll peel his skin and wear it as a cloak, I’ll stuff every one of these bottles up his scrawny backside, and then melt him down for window panes!”
Viera cleared her throat. “Might I ask to whom you are referring, Karal? So that I can tell him you’re looking for him, you understand.”
She winced at the sharp crack of Karal’s head on the underside of the counter as he started to rise. His curses this time were just as evocative, but he kept them mostly under his breath. Slowly, more cautiously, he unfolded his tall frame and stood rubbing his head and glaring resentfully at Viera.
“Festil sur-Maracon,” he said sourly. “My useless twit of an assistant. I hope you haven’t come for willow bark. Gorgorn only knows where the miserable worm put it. Three weeks he spends undoing my entire system, turns my whole shop upside down, then the bastard walks out. Fucking weasel.”
Viera smiled behind her hand. “I’ll put the word out that you’re hiring.”
“No bloody thanks,” the Kurgan said, folding his enormous arms across his chest and shaking his head. “I’m better off on my own than with the help I’ve had. Fucking educated morons think they know everything—like three years at the university gives them the right to question my methods. You see these?” He held out his right arm and showed her his tattoos—two sunbursts, one green, one red. His muscles rippled under his skin, making the stylized designs seem to flare and waver. “The green is for alchemy. It took me fourteen years of study to earn it, backed by more than a millennium of Kurgan research. And these morons think they have something to teach me.”
Viera shrugged, shifting her basket to her other arm. “What’s the red one for?”
“Bone-setting.”
“Maybe you should consider a change of vocation.”
Karal’s face split in a black grin. “I tried treating a few Anduni at the hospital. Too much screaming. It grated on my nerves.”
Viera laughed. “You’re all heart, Karal.”
“Mmph. So what do you want?”
“We’re out of poppy milk,” she said, setting her basket on a clean spot on the counter.
“You’re in luck,” he said wryly, turning to take a bottle down from the shelf on the wall behind him. “That’s one thing I can actually put my hands on.”
As he dispensed a smaller flask of the white liquid, Viera began to get the seed of an idea. “You realize with no assistant you’ll be back working sixteen hours a day.”
Karal grunted eloquently. “Better than the alternative.”
“Come on.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “There must be someone out there who would be suitable.”
He slammed the bottle down and held a hand out for her coin, immune to her flirting. “Bring me someone who can read, who hasn’t got a head full of gobbledygook to unlearn, and who’s willing to work for a Kurgan. I’ll hire him.”
Viera smiled and counted out coppers. “Sounds fair to me. How much do you pay?”
“I have news,” Viera announced, sweeping her light cloak from her shoulders and hanging it on the hook. Inella rose from her place at the kitchen table and took the basket from her arm, lifting the cloth to peek inside. A delightful aroma escaped on a cloud of steam—oat bread sweetened with honey. “Aru’s favorite for breakfast,” Viera told her. “Is there jaffha?”
“On the stove,” Inella answered, setting the basket on the table before moving to pour for Viera. “Good news, or bad?”
“Depends. Can you read?”
Inella’s hands paused in their task, but she recovered quickly. “Some. I had lessons until I was twelve. My mother always hoped I’d go for a handmaiden at a Sanctuary, but I didn’t have the temperament. Why?”
“I think I’ve found you a job.”
Inella straightened and held out the cup with shaking hands. Viera took it gingerly.
“What job?”
“Assistant to an apothecary.” Viera smiled tightly and hid behind her cup. A very loud Kurgan apothecary with an enviable flair for profanity. “You’d be mixing medicines and poisons, preparing ingredients for storage, writing out orders, purchasing supplies. And customer relations.” God, the customer relations.
Inella’s eyes widened, but she was too worldly to get excited yet. “How much does the position pay?”
“Twelve falcons the month.”
Inella shook her head, her face going pale. “No one is going to pay me twelve falcons a month. You don’t make that kind of money unless you’re a man, unless you’ve been to university.”
“Karal doesn’t want someone educated. He says he’d just have to waste his time undoing all that learning. All he wants is someone with half a brain who can read. You can read. And I’m fairly certain you’re in possession of an entire brain.”
“He’ll find someone better. He won’t hire me.”
Viera set her cup down and stepped closer, taking Inella’s face between her two hands and pressing their foreheads together. “He already has.”
“On your recommendation?”
“What can I say? It pays to know me.”
Inella hugged her tight. When she pulled back, her eyes were suspiciously moist. “There has to be some catch…”
Viera shrugged, carefully casual. “Well, he is Kurgan.”
Inella blinked in surprise, but she didn’t disappoint. “If he’s your friend, then he can only be the finest sort.”
“Spoken like a trouper,” Viera laughed.
“When do I start?”
“I’ll take you over there this afternoon. Karal will show you what’s involved in your job, and if you think you’re up to it you’ll start in earnest tomorrow morning.”
Inella scrubbed at her eyes and hugged Viera again. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Um, how about ‘thank you’?”
Inella laughed like a girl. “Thank you,” she cried, pressing her lips to Viera’s. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Viera’s smile softened and her gaze dropped to Inella’s pink mouth as her heartbeat quickened. “You’re welcome, my dear,” she said quietly, brushing her lips against Inella’s once more, her arms tightening briefly around the other woman.
And then suddenly Inella wasn’t smiling anymore either. Her cheeks glowing a deep rose, she let her hands slide down Viera’s back to rest at the swell of her hips. Her breath fanned Viera’s face, swift and hot. Their eyes met and held.
Aru was not yet out of bed. Inella’s children and mother were busy setting up house in the new apartment. The two women were effectively alone.
Viera let her hand slide back into Inella’s hair, massaged her nape until her eyelids grew heavy. Her other hand drifted down to rest on the exposed skin above the neckline of Inella’s dress. Her belly coiling, her nether parts filling with pressure, she leaned her face closer.
Their lips were only a breath apart.
“Are you excited about tonight?” Viera whispered, her tongue darting out to tease Inella’s upper lip.
In answer, Inella caught Viera’s mouth with her own, her lips slanting across Viera’s, her tongue delving deep. Her hands slipped down to Viera’s bottom, grasping through the billowed lawn of her skirts, pulling her closer. With a smile, Viera gave herself up to the moment, to the sensation of s
hared intimacy between them, to the connection they’d found last night in Aru’s bedroom. Her hand skimmed down to cup Inella’s breast through the roughspun of her gown, her thumb finding the pebbled nipple and brushing across it. Their tongues danced, parted, danced again, then Viera kissed a path to the other woman’s ear, nipping at the lobe.
Viera shivered, something dark and wicked rearing up inside her as Inella arched and trembled in her arms. “I’m going to fuck you tonight,” she breathed in Inella’s ear as her free hand gathered up the woman’s skirts. “I’m going to take the ivory member I use on myself and push it up inside you, over and over. I’m going to worship every inch of you with my lips and tongue and fingers, and then I’m going to fuck you until you scream your pleasure, until you can’t even remember your own name.”
Inella staggered backward with a wordless moan, her bottom meeting the edge of the worktable. Grinning wickedly, Viera nudged her up to sit on the oak top and pushed Inella’s knees apart. Rucking up her skirts, she slipped her hand under the bunched fabric and into Inella’s furrow. It was already swollen and wet, the lips parting for Viera’s clever fingers.
Viera’s head dipped, her mouth seeking Inella’s nipples through the wool of her bodice, her lips and teeth gently drawing them into tighter buds. As Inella’s hands tangled in her hair and pulled her head closer yet, Viera stroked her stiff little clit with her thumb and pushed two fingers inside her.
“Ahh, Salgrim have mercy…”
Viera smiled at the desperation in Inella’s voice, raised her head to gaze down on the other woman’s face. Their eyes locked as Viera’s fingers continued to stroke and play between Inella’s thighs.
“Shall I have you eat my cunt tonight?” Viera asked on a slow exhalation, her thumb circling the straining tag of flesh where all of Inella’s senses were centered. “Shall I let you taste me?”
“God, Viera…”
“Will you fuck me with my ivory cock?”
Inella’s breath puffed against Viera’s face like the air from a furnace. Her cunt was soaking, her labia swollen and hot. Viera leaned close, lips brushing the shell of Inella’s ear.
“Will you fuck me in my cunt, Inella?”
A shudder took the woman, but she managed to answer, “Yes…”
Viera chuckled low in her throat, her senses entirely bent on the other woman’s pleasure. Her voice dropped until it was barely a breath. “Will you fuck me in my other place, Inella?”
The other woman’s breath wheezed to a stop. The walls of her pussy clamped down on Viera’s fingers, releasing a surge of wet. “Your mouth?” she rasped.
Viera laughed long and softly. “Ah, no, my Inella. Not my mouth.”
Inella had no answer. In that moment, her body went stiff, her back arching, her legs tightening over Viera’s stroking hand, her inner muscles seizing and clenching, pouring honey into Viera’s palm.
Viera held her, raining feathery kisses across her glowing face as her spasms eased and finally subsided, then pulled her fingers free. Leaning her forehead against Inella’s, she lifted her hand to her mouth, tasting the nectar Inella had left on her skin.
“Do you remember that question you asked yesterday?” Viera chuckled. “How worried you were that you wouldn’t be able to feel this way without Aru’s influence?”
“Mmm,” Inella murmured, her lips curled in a sensual smile.
“I think you’ve just answered your own question, my dear.”
Aru descended the stairs as if they led into an abyss, his limbs heavy and his eyes full of grit. Not even the icy water he’d splashed on his face was enough to pull his body out of its exhausted state. Three nights with even less sleep than usual were affecting him in predictable fashion. It was already well past his customary breakfast hour, and still, he’d had to force his resisting body out of bed.
He entered the kitchen to find the two women at the table drinking jaffha and giggling like girls. Inella’s color was unusually high, her eyes sparkling but the lids heavier than normal. A familiar scent hit his nostrils, hovering under the delicious aromas of jaffha and oat bread. His nethers twitched. Eyes dropping to Inella’s bodice, he noted a distinct patch of wetness over each of her breasts.
His gray mood turned black.
“Good morrow, Aru,” Viera greeted him with a smile. “Will you break your fast?” She looked as guileless as a virgin—either she didn’t realize he knew what they’d been up to, or she truly saw nothing untoward about it. He wasn’t sure which possibility irked him more.
He’d hardly slept all night, his mind playing over and over not the long hour of shared passion he had experienced in his room, but the bleak, torturous minutes pressed against her door as she whispered sweet words and surrendered her perfect body to Inella’s caresses. Part of him hated her for that, for leaving him cold and wanting outside the tiny circle of desire she had found with the other woman. Another part thought he would do anything—give up anything—if she would just allow him inside once more.
“Aru?” Viera prompted with a look of fond indulgence that had his back stiffening.
He shook his head, banishing the memories. “I’m going out,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and failing miserably. His eyes flicked to Inella to find her staring guiltily into her cup. At least one of them had some sense of decency.
Viera didn’t seem troubled in the least. “When can we expect you back?”
Why? he thought, cringing at his own pettiness. You’ll have your fun with or without me.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
Her smile turned brittle, but she didn’t falter. “Shall I hold dinner for you?”
He resisted the urge to press his hand against the ache in his chest. “You can do what you like,” he said, then grabbed his coat and left.
He stepped out into the brightness of the day and found himself wishing it was raining. He had no idea where he would go, he only knew he couldn’t stay in that house with the two of them. His stomach growled unmercifully. He was starving in a way only a fallen Darjhan could be. He could remember a time when his palate was a thing of utter delicacy, when a handful of grapes and some sweet bread and honey would have sated him for an entire day. He thought he could eat a whole water buffalo right now, and his appetite for food was just one of the hungers that had exploded since his change.
He didn’t know how these mortals could live with the constant distraction of their earthly cravings. Gluttony, avarice, lust—even rage—had been concepts entirely alien to him in his former life. Now, they were the standard by which all his other feelings were gauged. And they had been growing steadily worse in the years since his fall, as the specter of his mortality began to loom.
As he walked the busy streets, the people careful not to touch him or catch his eye, he thought back to those days after the war, when Cael of the Omahru-azhi and Gaelan sur-Aldonir had come to him and explained what his new life would mean to him. Made clear the difficult, desperate, desolate truth of what he had become. At its most simple, he was no better than a parasite. A thing that fed on death. His days were numbered, and all that could stave off the coming of the goddess was a deed so dark and abominable that each time he considered it his mind flinched away in an agony of loathing.
They called Gorgorn the Eater of Souls. But since the Kurgan-led genocide began, since the very first of Aru’s people fell from Paldir’s grace and tasted the bitter taint of mortality, the title had lost its exclusivity. The Omahru-azhi were now the true eaters of souls.
And Aru would be no different when his moment came, when his hunger for more life took hold and refused to let go. He would seek out some pathetic soul, sick or injured or condemned, and instead of healing them, he would take their spark into himself and revivify his own store of life’s essential substance.
That there were rules governing this behavior did nothing to expiate the repugnance of it. That the soul of the dead was hindered in its journey to the other life by a heartbeat—an
eye-blink—no more, was irrelevant. The Omahru-azhi were no better than ghouls, no more virtuous or humane than carrion birds.
What would Viera think of him if she knew what he was? God help him, he knew. He could see it in the dark behind his eyelids when he closed them. Could envision the look of dawning horror on her face at the sickening realization that she had bared her body and her heart, had exposed her most intimate self, to a monster. She would hate him, he knew this. Hate was the only emotion a sane person could feel when confronted by the vile and despicable reality of the walking dead.
Her rejection wouldn’t be the only one, just the most painful. Once the truth was known his few friends would turn away from him until he was utterly alone, a thing hated and hunted. Until he had no recourse but to flee north to Harweald, the place where the Omahru-azhi had taken refuge from a world that could never tolerate what they were.
Aru swore he would never let that happen. He was more than his desires, the strength he had left from what he was before was equal to the weakness of what he was now. When the time came to choose between death and undeath, he would make the right choice. He would keep faith with his god’s greater purpose.
But what was that resolution worth, if he could not even cleave to the strictures of his vows to his wife?
His wedding pledge was more than just a promise of eternal, unyielding devotion to his wife. It was simply the last pure, unsoiled thing about him, the one part of himself he had managed to keep apart from the disease that drove him now. And if he could not rule his carnal urges to keep that promise, how could he ever expect to control the consuming need that would claim him one day, to take another’s soul and lose his own?
Aru stayed away from his house all day, and when he arrived home long past dark, he was set in his mind. These games with Viera had to stop.
Chapter Seven
“No fucking way.”
Healer's Touch Page 7
