Lord of the Abyss rhos-4

by Nalini Singh

  Liliana jerked up and onto her knees, his erection sliding through her hand to jut into the air. “You’re also a prince of Elden and my father is the Blood Sorcerer.”

  “So?” He decided he liked her in that position, her legs tucked under her, her heels resting against her bottom. Maybe he’d push into her from behind. That way, he’d feel her lush bottom against him, be able to play with her breasts and the sensitive nub between her thighs at the same time. Cock jumping at the idea, he reached out to stroke the plump lips he could see though the dark curls at the apex of her thighs.

  Jerking, she gripped his wrist. “The people,” she gasped out, “of Elden would hardly accept me.”

  “I’m the youngest prince,” he pointed out, continuing to tease her with his finger. “I won’t sit on the throne—and even were I the eldest, I would still choose my own bride. Stop arguing.”

  She made as if to pull away so she could do exactly that, but Micah didn’t want to speak anymore of something that wasn’t a problem even if she thought it was. Shifting, he pressed her onto her back and spread her thighs in a single motion. He covered her with his mouth a second later.

  “Micah.”

  He liked the way she said his name, all trembly and wanting. Finding the taut bundle of nerves that gave her much pleasure, he sucked on it. This time, her cry held an edge of desperation. Lifting his head, he saw that her eyes had gone dark as her pupils dilated, her chest rising and falling in a jagged rhythm.

  He knew what she needed, what she wanted. Rising above her, he fit himself to the entrance of her body, driven not by experience, but by primal instinct. Then, dropping his mouth to her own, he began to push inside. A liquid-hot furnace gripped his cock. Groaning he broke the kiss to catch a breath—and found she’d wrapped her legs around him, was urging him to move faster with impatient rolling movements of her lower body.

  “Lily.” Shuddering, he thrust deeper. Deeper still.

  Until she cried out, her nails digging into his back. “It hurts.”

  He froze, would’ve pulled out except that her legs remained locked around him. “Lily?”

  “It’s because I haven’t done this before,” she gasped. “I just…need a minute.”

  She felt so luscious that Micah wasn’t sure he had the willpower to give her that minute, but then he remembered her cry of pain and knew he did. He wouldn’t hurt Lily. Even when he was very angry with her, he wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe he’d growl at her a little, but she seemed not to mind that very much.

  The thoughts were good ones, but they didn’t help in keeping his mind off the fact that he was half-buried inside her, his entire body poised on the brink of the most delicious sensations he’d ever felt.

  Sweat broke out along his spine.

  She spoke against his lips. “Now, Micah.”

  Not asking her if she was sure, he pushed deeper. She made another sound, but this one didn’t have any hurt in it. Kissing her, stroking his hand down to grip her bottom, he sank in to the hilt. “Lily.” It was a groan.

  Liliana’s response was softer but no less passionate, her thighs clenching around him. “Don’t stop.”

  He moved out of her slow, pushed in as slow. It felt even better. So he did it again. Hot and tight and wet around him, her body soft where he gripped her, she was perfect. He found he was moving faster, thrusting into her in hard pulses, but she was with him, murmuring at him to hurry, kissing his jaw, his face, her nails digging into his sweat-slick shoulders. A last hard thrust and he spilled inside her with a low, deep sound of pleasure, able to feel her muscles spasming as she bucked, gasped and went liquid around him.

  Later, after they’d both managed to find enough strength to bathe, she snuggled up next to him and called him “darling.” Micah decided he liked it. He’d allow her to call him darling, but only when they were alone. The Guardian of the Abyss couldn’t be called darling, after all.

  It was his last thought before slumber crept over him in a stealthy wave.

  They left the Black Castle at first light.

  Liliana finished organizing the food and other supplies, while Micah armed himself with knives and a long, lethally sharp sword that he carried in a sheath down his back—because once they left this realm, he would no longer be able to call on the power of the Abyss. He and Liliana would have to rely on the magic that resided within their bodies until they reached Elden—but to use too much of it would leave them weak and vulnerable.

  “You will watch over the castle,” he said to Bard. “The kitchari keep their eyes on the perimeter, and the anubi the skies. But the Arachdem shouldn’t return.” He’d sensed them leaving the realm when he woke with Liliana so warm and soft beside him.

  Bard’s soulful eyes were dark. “Be safe.”

  Nodding, Micah looked over at where Liliana—dressed in another one of those footmen’s uniforms Jissa kept digging up—was saying goodbye to the brownie who owned Bard’s heart. Jissa was distressed but not crying. The women hugged, tight and fierce, and then Liliana was by his side. “It’s time,” she said, glancing at the watch she carried for him on a chain around her neck, the one with a unicorn prince on its face.

  The hands were almost to midnight.

  Leaving without further goodbyes—though he did catch Liliana waving surreptitiously to a tiny twitching nose that appeared in the doorway—Micah walked them out to the stone garden and gathered her up in his arms.

  As Micah rose into the air on wings of leathery brown, Liliana distracted herself by attempting to work out how they were going to get to the castle once they reached Elden. The lake was impassable—her father’s specially bred fish didn’t hunger only for flesh, they would also devour any boat or raft not enspelled with the Blood Sorcerer’s personal protections.

  As for the walkway, the guards with the arms and tail of a giant scorpion and the teeth of a screaming banshee might once have been small, relatively harmless creatures, but no longer. Their lurching size meant she and Micah might possibly be able to move fast enough to avoid the whipping sting of their tails—but the risk would be a terrible one, not only because of the deadly nature of the creatures’ poison, but also because they would be out in the open on the causeway, easy prey for any guards on the castle battlements.

  A scorching wave, on the fine border between bearable and painful.

  Glancing down, she glimpsed bubbling lava pools belching heat. Dark red and angry, the pools were rumored to be so hot that should a man fall into one, he’d be so much liquid between one breath and the next. Something moved below the viscous surface of one and when it pulled itself to the ledge with four-clawed hands, she saw it was a giant salamander, its brimstone eyes watching their progress with a greed that said should they come too near, it would reach out with its fiery tongue and drag them down to its lair for a slow and torturous devouring.

  Micah’s arms tightened. “Don’t be frightened, Lily. Nothing can touch us here.”

  Not taking her eyes off the salamander, she said, “My father burned me with a salamander once. I’m so afraid of them.” She’d never before shared her fear with anyone, never before had anyone whom she’d trusted not to use that fear to torment her.

  Micah’s wings made batlike flapping sounds as he flew faster over the lava pools. “I will kill your father, and then you won’t be afraid anymore.”

  The order—and it was that—made her want to laugh, even as fear lingered in her veins. Then they were leaving the bubbling pools behind to traverse a barren stretch of desert, the sand appearing to glitter with shards of precious gems. “Micah,” she said some time later, frowning at what she saw, “your wings.”

  “I know.” Descending on hot gusts of air, he landed on the brilliant desert sands flecked with red and blue and aquamarine.

  She put down the small supply pack she’d been holding and asked him to spread his wings, checking the places where the leathery material had gone translucent. A fine webbing continued to hold muscle and tendon together, b
ut it was fragile, easily damaged. “It must be because you’re carrying me,” she said, frowning. “The strain—”

  “No.” Dropping his sword to the sands, he angled his head into the blistering desert winds. “There is a subtle poison in the air. It’s been weakened by entry to this realm and won’t harm our bodies, but my wings, it appears, are vulnerable.”

  “Me,” she whispered, knowing the poison spell was anchored to her blood. “This poison attacks us because of me.”

  Chapter 23

  “Stop thinking about him, Lily.” Micah scowled at his wings. “Focus on how we will thwart the poison, because without my wings to carry us to the Great Divide, we won’t make it in time.”

  Shaking off the cold inside her, she touched one of the translucent patches. “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  Her head jerked up, hand dropping. “Micah.”

  “It’s all right.” Reaching back, he poked a hole through the damaged patch. “It’s no use. They’re disintegrating.”

  As Liliana watched, the edges of his wings began to curl inward. Horror roiled into her stomach. “You mustn’t take the wings back into your body.”

  “I don’t know where they come from, but yes, if they do return to my body, then the poison may succeed in attacking me from the inside. I shouldn’t die while in this realm, but your father’s magic is twisted.” Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a large hunting knife. “You must cut them off, Lily. I can’t reach.”

  Her stomach threatened to revolt at the idea of it, but she didn’t hesitate, because if she knew her father, the poison would cause Micah excruciating pain before it killed him. Taking the blade, she shut out everything else, and then, for the first time in her life, took a knife to a living being by choice.

  The material of his wings was tough, and she nearly sobbed in grateful joy when the first cut didn’t bleed. But she knew it was hurting Micah, though he didn’t make a single sound. “Almost there,” she whispered, throat raw. “Just a little longer, darling.”

  The second curled-up wing fell to the glimmering sand so hot it was starting to sear the bottom of her boots. “There.” Checking the two thin ridges of tissue that remained on his back, she couldn’t see any sign of the poison, but biting down on her lower lip, she used a smidgen of blood magic to make certain. “You can retract those pieces.”

  He collapsed to his knees even as the stubs of his wings disappeared into his flesh, black armor closing over the slits. Dropping the knife, she knelt before him, uncaring of the sands burning through her tights. “I’m sorry, Micah. I’m so sorry.” Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed and petted and stroked until he stopped shivering and stood, taking her with him.

  “Without my wings,” he said, once more the Lord of the Black Castle, “we’ll need another way to reach the border between realms.”

  Now that she could think again, she became aware of the blazing heat once more. “I could use my blood,” she said, beads of sweat trickling down her spine, the valley between her breasts.

  Micah shook his head. “No, we need to conserve as much of our strength as possible. Your father is a powerful adversary.”

  “Is there another way to use the magic of the Abyss to get us to the border?” Putting her hand up to shade her eyes, she looked around, saw nothing but endless sand in every direction, shimmering and rolling with waves of incandescent heat.

  “Yes.” Micah gave her a solemn look. “I can call one of the giant salamanders to carry us the rest of the way.”

  Bile rose up in her throat. “It’ll burn us alive.” The creature’s very skin was fire.

  “I will protect us,” he said with a gentle caress on her cheek. “You must trust me, Lily.”

  The child inside of her, the one who had smelled her flesh sear to the sound of her father’s cruel laughter, scrabbled in panic, but she nodded. “Do it.”

  He was already covered by the black armor, but now it swallowed him until only his face remained exposed. Throwing up his arms, he roared to the heavens. A responding roar sounded an instant later. All too soon, the sands began to ripple in a strange wind. When she looked up, it was to meet the hungry gaze of a salamander as it flew on wings of fire to land beside Micah.

  Flicking out its forked tongue, it licked at the air, its multifaceted eyes locked on her as if on a particularly tasty snack. It took every ounce of courage she had to allow Micah to lead her to the beast, the heat of which was a burn against her senses. Dropping her hand, Micah jumped onto the back of the creature, sword once more on his back but angled now. “Touch only me, Lily,” he said, reaching down for her.

  It wasn’t easy, but he was strong, and he got her—and the supplies she carried—onto his lap without allowing any part of her to come into contact with the salamander. Curling up against him, she held on tight as he used one of his gauntleted and gloved hands to grip several of the thin, flexible spines that grew from the creature’s scaly head. “Rise!”

  With a bellow that belched flame, yellow and lethal, the salamander leaped into the air, its wings created by pure fire and thus unaffected by her father’s curse of poison. Terror chilled the blood in her veins, made her teeth chatter, her chest twist to painful tightness.

  The salamander continued to bellow with fiery breaths. “It’s not happy,” she managed to get out past the fear.

  “It is an elemental creature. As with the wind, you cannot tame it.” Angling his body to the left as the salamander banked away from a roiling spurt of sand that punched up from the ground, he tucked her impossibly closer. “It flies faster than I do. We’ll reach the border in plenty of time.”

  It was, Lily knew, from that point on that their journey would become more difficult. Once they crossed the boundary between the realms, they would be in the kingdoms, but far from Elden. Covering the remaining distance on foot would take too long, so they’d have to find some other way, but that was a problem for another time. Right now, she had to focus on keeping her sanity.

  Later, she would remember the hellish heat, the noxious scent of sulfur, but most of all, she would remember Micah’s arm holding her, implacable and strong as steel, his body her haven. They flew for hours, over the glimmering sands, over the eerie marshlands filled with flickering lights and six-legged animals that loped and cackled, over the waving red grasses that hid the cunning predators with the sharp teeth, over the mountains of ice so cold a man without magic would freeze before taking a breath, until finally, they came to the rolling plains of verdant green.

  The Great Divide lay on the other side.

  Sweeping down, the salamander bellowed again, scorching the grasses to nothingness and burning the earth to black on landing. Alighting as quickly as possible, Liliana somehow managed to stay on her feet, though her legs were cramped, her muscles stiff. Heart in her throat, she fought not to scream for him to get away as Micah walked around to face the beast, so near that mouth that could easily belch flame. “I thank you, friend,” he said, rubbing that huge scaly head with a gloved hand.

  To Liliana’s shock, the salamander dipped its head to the side, as if shy. Suddenly unable to bear her own cowardice, she forced her legs to move forward until she was close enough to look into one of those multifaceted eyes. “My thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

  Coming around to stand beside her, Micah said, “Fly home.”

  Wings of flame shot out on either side of the salamander and then it was ascending with a roar of yellow flame against the darkening sky. Tracking its blazing progress, she was forced to admit that it was a magnificent being—one that would forever scare her, that much she knew, but at least now the terror wouldn’t debilitate.

  “Come, Lily.” Taking her hand in his, Micah led them to the very edge of the Great Divide.

  A crossing such as this, she thought, must only exist in the Abyss and the Always. It offered passage to all of the realms, but the shimmering wall of magic could not be passed by most mortals. However, Micah, as
the Guardian of the Abyss, had the right to cross it at will. “The ability is, I think,” he’d said when she’d brought up the point, “a fail-safe lest one of the condemned manages to slip into another realm.” Now, he touched his fingers to the rippling sparks of color, and it was as if the magic sighed in welcome. “Yes, this part of the crossing will take us to the kingdoms.”

  She came into the protection of his arms and he stepped through the barrier. The experience was… Like being kissed with magic, if such a thing was possible. Yet there was a subtle menace to the sensation—if she hadn’t been held in Micah’s arms, the shield would’ve repudiated her with wrenching violence.

  “It’s done.”

  Liliana saw that they were in a night-dark wood. “What is this place?”

  “The path to a borderland village.”

  “Micah.” She touched his left cheekbone—where he was now marked by the symbol of a sickle and a sword crossed. “The sign of the Abyss.”

  “To ensure no one forgets who it is who walks among them.” He took her little pack. “Come—the screaming pines mark the village boundaries.”

  The trees lived up to their name as they approached, keening and wailing, their arms waving in agitation. As a result, the villagers beyond were waiting for them armed with scythes and pitchforks. A single look at Micah and they dropped their weapons, turning as pale as ghosts. A few ran. However, a sturdy man with a peg leg and a tremor along one side of his face walked forward. “My lord. Do you come for us?”

  Micah put one gauntleted hand on the brave man’s shoulder. “Your soul is not black. I seek the services of Esme.”

  A whispering sounded from the gathered villagers, but the shoulders of the man who’d spoken were suddenly set with pride. “She be my wife, then—I’m her George.” A beaming smile. “Come with me, honored lord.”

  Liliana heard the words ugly and hook-nosed creature as she passed, and though it hurt, it was a hurt she could shrug off. Because Micah didn’t think she was ugly even though he knew about beauty, had seen the stunning women in the village below the Black Castle. “You didn’t tell me about any Esme,” she whispered.