Empire of Rust Complete Series

by V. J. Chambers

  His hands ran over her body, fingers rippling over her shoulders and arms, her breasts, her rib cage, her hips.

  She let out a noisy sigh.

  His breath was ragged too.

  And then he pulled her against him, and she could feel his body on hers, all the places that he was firm and hard. His hands were on her back, holding her in place. He put his lips on hers.

  Her whole body went slack. He was the only thing holding her upright. The sensation of his mouth, of his full lips, it made her feel like she was falling apart. It was good. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip, like she’d wanted to.

  He bit her tongue.

  Not that hard, just enough so that she could feel the pressure of his teeth.

  She gasped.

  He threw his head back, panting, but he didn’t let go of her.

  She struggled for breath. She was bursting in sensation. Everything was danger and pleasure and fear and excitement. She wanted to kiss him again.

  But he lowered his mouth to her neck, and he was kissing her there, kissing the place where her skin curved into shoulder.

  And she was in ecstasy, moaning at the stars.

  His tongue was on her skin, his lips too, running the length of her clavicle. And then lower, on the place where her breast just began to swell.

  She shivered. It felt nice.

  His teeth scraped her flesh.

  She tensed again. Now it was going to happen. Well, at least it had felt good at first. At least—

  His teeth sunk into her breast, around the nipple.

  She couldn’t breathe. It was pain. It was pleasure. The pain felt good. The goodness hurt. She couldn’t decide. She opened her mouth, trying to make a noise. Nothing came.

  He let go.

  They both looked down at her body. She could see the marks his teeth had left in her skin.

  But there was no blood.

  She whimpered.

  He touched the tip of her nipple.

  A moan tore from her lips. She was so sensitive there now.

  His mouth on that nipple again, but it was soft and sweet, just his tongue, soothing the skin, wrenching sweetness from her body. She throbbed between her legs. She was drenched there.

  He lifted his face to look at her. “I’ll do my best not to kill you, but I can’t make any promises.”

  She only made a squeaking noise.

  And then his lips were on her again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Darius!” Simon’s voice cut through the foliage.

  Darius raised his head and stumbled to his feet. It wasn’t yet dawn. The sky was gray, but it was growing lighter in the east. He looked out over the ocean, which faced west. It was still dark over the water. He staggered towards Simon’s voice, careful to avoid touching the girl’s motionless form.

  Simon’s figure materialized out of the darkness. He was carrying a torch, and it lit up the hollows of his face. “Jesus, Darius, cover yourself.”

  Darius looked down at his naked body, wondering at his lack of shame. How much of his humanity had been burned away when Simon had turned him into a necromancer? How much of him was even left? But he found his robed and flung it over his shoulders. The black fabric fanned out, the same color as the early morning darkness.

  The light of Simon’s torch fell on the girl. She was naked too, lying there. So still now. So quiet.

  Simon turned sharply to Darius. “What did you do?”

  Darius only stared at him, expressionless.

  Simon surged forward, running to the girl’s body, falling to his knees. He turned her over onto her back, and her dark curls spilled out over the rock.

  Darius gazed at her in the light of the torch, her perfect, smooth skin. It was only marred in a few places.

  Simon touched one of the marks on her shoulder, the indentation of Darius’s teeth there. Her skin was bruised. He looked up at Darius, drawing his eyebrows together.

  Darius refused to allow an emotion to cross his face, but he was feeling pretty damned proud of himself. “I never broke the skin.”

  Simon shot to his feet. “You bit her.”

  “She’s alive,” said Darius.

  Below them, Michal stirred, moaning in her sleep.

  Simon’s nostrils flared. “You’re a monster, aren’t you?”

  “I am what you made me.” Darius lifted his chin. “I passed your test.”

  Michal’s voice, confused and sleepy. “Darius?”

  He knelt next to her, running a soothing hand over her hair. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

  “What’s going on?” She looked up to see Simon. Immediately, she curled into a ball, covering herself. “Why is he here?”

  Darius got up and found her robe. He liked the way that she surprised him. She was defiant and bold sometimes, then timid and innocent. Maybe it was those juxtapositions that kept him from killing her last night. Or maybe he was stronger than he gave himself credit for. Or maybe… maybe it was something else about her. Something unnameable. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to possess her.

  She snatched the robe from him and got up as she wrapped her body in its folds. “You shouldn’t be here, Simon.”

  Simon looked her up and down. Then he turned to Darius. “She doesn’t seem too damaged.”

  “I’m fine,” said Michal.

  “Good,” said Simon, still not looking at her. “Then I have need of you, necromancer. We have business to attend to. If you are truly what I made you, then you will succeed at this task easily.”

  Right. Simon still wanted to take the empire from his brother, didn’t he? His plan was to overrun the city with revenants, and then have Darius round them up. That way, it looked like Simon saved the day, and everyone would think he’d be the best emperor ever. Darius pictured the capital city full of revenants, the way Simon wanted it.

  He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, reaching out for the revenants that had followed them to the capital city. They had left them outside of the gates, and they were far enough away that it was difficult for Darius to communicate with them.

  And then, suddenly, he could feel the revenants. They were close. Too close. They weren’t outside the city at all, but inside the gates. He furrowed his brow. “You already set them free.”

  Simon chuckled.

  “But what if I had failed?” said Darius. “What if I had killed her?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t,” said Simon.

  “You didn’t know.”

  “It didn’t matter whether you did or not,” said Simon.

  Darius peered into Simon’s eyes, and he began to wonder if he didn’t care one way or the other. There was so much hatred in Simon—hatred of this city, of his brother. Maybe he just wanted to tear it all down. Darius swallowed.

  “Better get moving,” said Simon. “You have work to do.”

  Darius shut his eyes. The revenants were already free, and they were spreading throughout the city, throughout the mansion, roaming through the streets. Everyone was still asleep. They’d be killed in their beds. “They’re too spread out. It will take hours.”

  “Good,” said Simon. “I wouldn’t want it over too easily. That wouldn’t be very impressive, would it?”

  Michal looked worried. “What’s going on?”

  Darius pointed at Simon. “You get her someplace safe.” He started down the stretch of rock, back towards the city, towards the revenants.

  “Wait,” said Michal. “Where are you going? Don’t leave me.”

  He hesitated. And then he rushed back to her, gathered her into his arms, and kissed her, ravaged her mouth.

  She clung to him, and her body was soft and lithe. He thought of the way she had felt beneath him, writhing and sighing.

  He pressed his lips into her forehead. “Mine,” he breathed, and he tried to step away.

  But she wouldn’t let him go. She searched his eyes with her own. “Mine,” she whispered back.

  He caressed her face.

 
“Stay,” she said.

  “I can’t.” He extricated himself from her arms, and he swept off the rock and up the path. To the city and the hungry dead.

  * * *

  Leah woke up, and the sun was in her eyes. She squinted and rolled over in her bed. The mattress was huge, supposedly so that she could share it with her husband, but she rarely even saw Gabriel, and he’d never shared her bed. In fact, seeing him across the hall at the wedding yesterday was the first time she’d seen him since he’d barged into her room with Ezekiel and asked her a bunch of nasty questions.

  She yawned and stretched. The sun was really bright.

  It was later in the morning than she was usually awakened. Where were the servants?

  Most mornings, she awoke to servants bustling about her room, pulling aside curtains, setting up her breakfast, and chattering to each other. They didn’t specifically wake her, but it was impossible to sleep through their activity.

  It was awkward. Not long ago, she had been on the same social level as them. She’d even spoken to some of them when she was looking for information about the emperor, when she was trying to help out Nathaniel and the others. But now she was the wife of the emperor’s son, and they were supposed to treat her with respect. She still thought of them as equals, but she was being waited on hand and foot, and that meant that things were unequal between them. She could sense their resentment at having to serve her. They all did their jobs, of course, and she’d never complain. But it was all strange and uncomfortable.

  She sat up in bed. Maybe they were late this morning because of the wedding the night before.

  The feast had gone on into the late hours. She’d stayed up as long as she could handle, but she was tired these days. The baby growing within her used up all her energy. She’d had to turn in much earlier than she would have otherwise.

  She didn’t know what servants did after a big celebration like that. There hadn’t been one since she arrived at the mansion. Her own wedding hadn’t been an affair like that. She and Gabriel had married in secret, with only a witness and the holy man present. And there had been no feast afterward.

  Leah might have been almost envious if it weren’t for the fact that Michal had been married to a necromancer. The man gave her shivers—in his black robe, with his black eyes. He looked at everyone like they were meat. Michal most of all.

  Leah shoved the covers outside and got out bed, trying to run from the thought. She didn’t want to consider the fact that Michal might be dead this morning. The other woman had been delivered to the necromancer—sacrificed to him, really.

  Tears sprang to her eyes.

  She dashed them away angrily. Stupid pregnancy. She cried about everything these days.

  A rattling noise.

  She whirled, and then she realized why the servants hadn’t arrived in her room.

  There was a door in the corner of her room, and it opened onto a narrow staircase that led straight down to the kitchens. Most of the servants came up using those steps.

  That door was what was rattling.

  It must have gotten locked somehow.

  “Sorry!” called out Leah. “I’ll get the door. Not sure how that happened.” She crossed the room and placed her hand on the doorknob.

  But it turned easily in her hands. Not locked.

  So, then, why—

  The door pushed open and a smooth-skinned white hand reached out behind it.

  Leah’s heart thudded, jumping against her rib cage.

  A revenant stumbled out from behind the door, reaching for Leah. Its face was a beautiful mask, like a painting. Still and cold.

  She staggered backwards, colliding with an end table, knocking over a lamp. It toppled to the floor and shattered, the noise explosive.

  Another revenant appeared behind the first. This one’s mouth was open. Its lips and chin were glistening red.

  Leah whimpered. She needed to run, but the floor was covered in glass and she was barefoot, wearing only her nightgown. Her hand went protectively to her belly.

  There were more than two revenants, and they were all cramming their way out of the door. They were unsteady on their feet, but they moved quickly. They were sniffing the air. They were reaching in her direction.

  They could smell her.

  Leah leapt over the glass.

  She didn’t make it. Her foot came right down on a shard, and it pierced her big toe. The glass punched up beside her toenail. Blood spurted. It hurt like hell.

  She screamed in pain and tumbled over herself, rolling on the floor just past the glass. She clutched her foot.

  The revenants were coming for her.

  They stepped on the glass. It crunched under their feet. It stabbed into them. Most of them were barefoot, just like her. But they didn’t even notice. They felt no pain. They just kept coming.

  She screamed again. Her toe was throbbing and blood was pulsing out of it, running in rivulets down over her foot.

  “You have to pull out the glass,” she told herself.

  She cringed. She didn’t want to.

  The first revenant reached for her. Its fingertips brushed her shoulder.

  Shrieking, she leaped to her feet. She hobbled across the floor, walking on her good foot and the heel of her wounded one.

  She left a trail of blood.

  The revenants stepped on that too, oblivious, still reaching out.

  Pain shot through her foot and ankle. She moaned, trying to go faster. The revenants were right behind her.

  She was at the door. She threw it open and dove outside.

  The revenants kept coming, arms outstretched.

  She slammed the door on them, shutting them in.

  She slid down to the floor.

  “Oh God.” Her breath was coming in gasps. “Oh God. Oh God.” Why were there revenants in the mansion? How had they gotten here? Were they the same ones from the dungeon? The ones she’d run from the night that Honor had gotten caught?

  Well, she’d gotten free that time. She could do it again.

  “We’re going to get out of this, baby,” she muttered to her stomach. “Don’t worry.”

  She seized the end of the piece of glass in her toe.

  “Fuck!” she screamed.

  The pain was overwhelming. She couldn’t breathe.

  She let go of the glass. “I can’t. I can’t,” she moaned.

  You have to, she told herself.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She tried again. She pulled on the glass.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  And it was out.

  She ripped at the edge of her nightgown, tying a makeshift bandage around her toe. And then she got to her feet again.

  She began to hobble down the hallway, heading towards the steps. She needed to get somewhere safe. She needed to tell someone that there were revenants—

  Oh God.

  She could see the steps now.

  There were more revenants coming up them.

  She looked back at the door to her room. The wood was straining.

  She turned back.

  The other revenants were climbing the stairs. They stared at her with dead, dead eyes. There were flesh-eating monsters either way she turned.

  She put a hand to her mouth.

  THREE: THE WAY OF ALL FLESH

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ahead of Leah, a mass of ten revenants were making their way up the stairs, heading straight for her. Behind her, the door was shut on about half as many other revenants. The door was straining against their force.

  Her toe throbbed in pain from where she’d just stepped on a piece of glass. Thankfully, she’d managed to remove the shard and bandage it, but it still hurt like hell, and she couldn’t bear to put weight on it.

  She hobbled backwards until she collided with the door to the sitting room, and then she forced it open and scrambled inside.

  But she wasn’t much better off in here. The sitting room connected to her bedroom, and the only partition
was a hanging brocade curtain.

  The revenants in the bedroom would smell her over here, and they would be coming. Her only advantage was that they were slow, shambling creatures.

  But, of course, she herself wasn’t very fast right now, not with her hurt toe. She focused on the reason she’d come in here. There, above the mantle and the fireplace, peering down on the plush couches of the sitting room, was a sword. It hung on the wall in its scabbard. It was decorative. She didn’t know why it was there. It probably had belonged to some ancient emperor, someone who’d beaten off some revenants himself with it or something. But that didn’t matter, because it was the only weapon she could think of that was anywhere close, and she needed a weapon.

  She took off towards the fireplace, favoring her good foot, keeping her hurt toe off the ground.

  There was a rustling behind the curtain.

  She cast a glance over, and she saw the imprint of a revenant body pushing against the curtain.

  Faster, Leah. Come on. She had to do this. She wasn’t only protecting herself. There was a tiny life growing inside her, and she wouldn’t let anything happen to the baby.

  The revenants were getting tangled in the curtain. They didn’t understand how to push it aside, and so they were slowed. At least for the moment. She had no illusions that it would last.

  She limped past the couches, arriving at the mantle. She reached up for the sword.

  Too high up. She couldn’t get to it.

  “Damn it,” she whispered.

  One of the revenants was completely twisted up in the curtain—a sight that would have almost been comical if she wasn’t fighting for her life. She watched as the others blindly shoved the twisted one out of the way and emerged into the sitting room.

  Leah went to one of the plush chairs. She’d push it over to the mantle and then stand on it and get the sword that way.

  She got behind the chair and heaved.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  The chair was heavier than it looked.

  She turned around, trying to use her legs and back to push it.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  The revenants stumbled out from behind the curtain. They were less than ten feet away. They were coming. Their skin was white and smooth—translucent like the skin of small children. But their eyes were glassy and unfocused as they made their way closer and closer.