“What are you, a bitch in a rut?” he grunted as he rolled to the side. “Get it through your thick skull—Amira is the only one I want!”
I’ll never leave you. An invisible hand touched his face lightly. The feel of it wasn’t repugnant. On the contrary, the sensation was so familiar and so desirable, he craved to close his eyes and imagine those hands against his flesh were solid.
“You dare breathe her name!” Nially slapped him hard. “You should be honored, and yet your every thought reeks of her,” her voice grew stronger, harsher with every word. “I’m ten times her superior!”
Raven couldn’t stifle a laugh. “More powerful maybe, but you are not worthy of breathing the same air!”
Suddenly, thunder crashed all around him as Nially stood up, swearing under her breath. Murder in her eyes. At least she was no longer trying to touch him, Raven sighed with relief. Dying he didn’t mind.
Don’t give up…
The presence around him gave him strength to stand tall against Nially’s chilling gaze. Even in death, it appeared, his angel held him. And it was all that mattered to him when the witch’s eyes narrowed and he felt an iron grip clenching his heart. A trace of a smile played on her lips as she squeezed it slowly with her powers, and soon his vision clouded. No longer did he see Nially. Amira stood in front of him.
The apparition of her seemed eerie and ethereal at the same time. She was so beautiful in her anger he wanted to smile, but her transparent form didn’t let him forget that she wasn’t real. Nevertheless, his eyes caught her, refusing to let her out of his sight even for a second.
She glowed in front of the recently risen full moon, and it reminded him of the time he’d walked in on her, reciting the first verse of that silly old poem. Those words hadn’t been for him, Raven knew. But if she truly was there, lingering, waiting for him, he wanted her to know that the other lines his mind was producing right now were, and always would be, for her.
I am nothing, but a lonely sailor
Lost in the tangles of your flames,
Your bewitching smile would be my savior,
Your effulgent eyes would be my fate.
His body was refusing to cooperate. His head swayed. Strange how the world around him appeared blurry, yet the words in his head were crystal clear.
My world lies in your hands
He was barely able to take in the air he so desperately needed.
My soul completely given.
He collapsed on the ground, his knees no longer supporting his weight. Every muscle in his body seemed to have been pierced with a sharp knife, slicing each piece apart straight from his bones. He had a sensation that someone was chopping him into thousands of pieces while he still lived. The pain was excruciating, but at the same time he was glad he would hold Amira soon.
Her lovely transparent face appeared an inch from him, as if summoned. Yet instead of a vision to soothe him, her trembling lips and the dread in her crystal eyes were like another dagger to his heart. Raven was imagining, hallucinating probably. And yet… He struggled for breath, begging her not to suffer. Never to suffer.
I only ask of you to glance…
His throat tightened. His fingers clenched around his neck and his body convulsed. The world plunged into the dark, depriving him of the last few words.
As if you treasure the heart I’m giving.
His eyes cracked open a sliver. He peered into the darkness, convinced he’d died. The perception was shattered by a strong pain that followed the soft whisper. It had him groaning through his teeth.
“Don’t you dare die on me now,” the voice he never thought he would hear again washed over him like a balm. He could hardly see the face, but he knew in his heart that the woman kneeling beside him was Amira. It was his angel’s gentle touch he felt.
Not in a million years, he wanted to assure her, but all that came out was a cough of blood.
Amira didn’t smile, not yet. She concentrated all her energy into healing Raven, bringing him back from the edge he was already slipping off. Her hands not too steady, she willed the magic she possessed to weave his torn flesh together, and was stunned when the blast of power tore her away from him. Like a rag doll she was thrown to the other side of the hall, landing with a loud thump.
She blinked, at first confused at what had transpired. Immediately, she scrambled to her feet and ran to him, afraid she would be too late as she kept tripping over the unconscious bodies lying all around. She kneeled once again, and this time, let the energy coursing inside her flow more slowly, almost killing her from worry in the process.
He was injured too severely—his insides all but a mush—for her to play safe, but the raw essence of what lived in her was too hard to control. It wasn’t even a power left by Nially, but a living entity. There were no other words to describe it. And thankfully it wanted to help.
Amira watched Raven’s wounds heal in front of her eyes at a speed she’d never thought possible. Not to mention that she felt no pain the healing always cost her.
Given the strength of this unknown entity, Amira had not the slightest of idea how she had managed to come back. The moment she’d sensed his soul being torn out of his body, she went into hers with a fury, not really expecting to succeed. But here she was—able to heal him in seconds.
The moment she was about to remove her hands, she felt his unyielding grip. She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes and gasped at the intensity searing right through to her soul. It was the most profound moment in all of her lifetimes. His every fear, every desire was her own. There was no need for words and yet, she shivered on hearing his promise.
Their fingers entwined together, breaths grew heavier, as for one endless second they did nothing but stare into each other’s eyes, hearing something snap inside. There was no sound for her ears to catch, yet she heard it deep in her soul. A bond strong as the finest metal and light as a feather itself. It solidified…
“… for eternity,” he whispered, his gaze heating up.
Amira nodded, starved for contact, desperate to feel his touch. She didn’t care about the witches surrounding them. Didn’t think about the possibility of them waking up soon. All she knew was an insatiable desire to feel him against her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when he lifted her and placed her on the only surface possible, she trembled with anticipation. They were on the same page. She was wet, panting. He was hard. And neither of them wanted foreplay. They simply needed one another.
Raven covered her mouth with his and stepping between her parted legs, filled her with one powerful push. He moved fast, demanding everything she had, yet giving so much more. Pure ecstasy to fracture her breath.
Amira screamed—for the first time in days doing so from pleasure.
He watched her misted eyes, finally able to slow down a bit. There was no need to rush anymore. No need to seize the moment because he felt there might not be a tomorrow. And yet, he dared not close his eyes. Was afraid to witness her gone the second he opened them.
If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. If he was dead, he didn’t want to know. If she was a figment of his imagination…
I am real, she promised, as if knowing his deepest fear; and wrapping her legs tighter around him, drew him even closer.
Just as she knew his fears, he knew her desires—Raven angled his hips, pushing his shaft all the way to the hilt. Pulled out. Repeated the same move a few more times until her eyes drifted shut, her back arched, and she dug her nails into his ass, riding each wave with the smallest hitch in her breathing.
“Oh, yes!” she gasped, sinking her nails even deeper and driving his hips forward. Hard. Between her heated folds.
Raven groaned, almost coming. He tasted her luscious skin, wringing moan after moan out of her until she was undulating beneath him. Until he felt the first tremors coursing through her. He became mindless. The strain in his body no longer bearable. He was so close … especially listening to her breathless c
ries.
He increased his tempo under her encouragement, knowing two seconds were all he had. The moment Amira’s body spasmed with release, it was a done deal. He could do nothing but bury his head in the crook of her neck and hold her as the wave of pure ecstasy rushed through them both.
Raven didn’t trust himself to move for the longest moment afterwards. He would’ve been content simply to stay this way. For an eternity. Unfortunately, reality couldn’t be denied—he heard a weak moan, turned his head and cursed his stupidity for succumbing to this craving to have her. In the middle of a witches’ convention, of all places. What the hell was he thinking? He would’ve kicked himself if he wasn’t in such a hurry to fasten his pants.
Amira couldn’t contain a laugh. “If my memory serves me right, someone had assured me he wasn’t into kinky stuff.” She flicked her skirt down and jumped off the stone formation. “Just look at you now.”
“Funny,” he glowered.
That only made her laugh harder. “Raven, relax.” Her hands landed on his and she took over the task of buckling his belt. “It’ll be a good half an hour more till they become lucid. I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered the last sentence so very solemnly.
In response, his arms came around her and he placed a kiss on her lips. He didn’t remind her that it was he who had lost her. He simply held her. “I am here.”
“How? How did you pass through the Mist of the Dead? No mortal can.”
“A mortal cannot. But an immortal can.” The words were dripping with cold arrogance as Hope appeared out of nowhere, freezing time immediately, and along with it the hundreds of witches around them. Only Amira and Raven were left unaffected.
“What?” Raven tightened his hold on Amira, all but pushing her behind him.
“Did you never wonder why you were able to channel her power? Why you could contain it in the first place?” Hope raised her brows mockingly. “Your bloodline is diluted, true. Just enough that you couldn’t access your powers alone. But now that you have, it’s who you are.” The last words were said in such a way, Amira had a feeling Hope was not happy about the latest development.
“Immortal?” Raven’s voice sounded bewildered to Amira’s ears, though she was convinced Hope wouldn’t notice the difference.
“Precisely,” the goddess confirmed. “We didn’t just need someone who was willing to die for her. We needed someone powerful in his own right to reach her in time. Someone she would cross over from the beyond to protect.”
“You’ve orchestrated everything,” Amira said absent-mindedly. Her brain was still digesting the latest revelation. No wonder Raven was able to contain and use her magic. No wonder she gained an ability to travel between places with just a thought after one night with him. His bloodline had to be a very strong one.
“Of course we did,” the goddess stated so proudly, it rubbed Amira the wrong way. “That wolf thinks he’s so clever. He thinks he outsmarted us when in truth, he did exactly what we wanted him to do.”
Her bargain with Dazlog was what set the wheels spinning, Amira deduced, going over the events one by one. She had been played. Like some piece on a chessboard, she’d been manipulated into moving exactly where they needed her to by placing other pieces in strategic places. She’d always thought she had at least a modicum of freedom, but now she understood that it had been all an illusion. She’d been cornered, courtesy of every single step she’d made.
“You never wanted Nially to rise, did you?” It was the conclusion everything pointed to.
“Only a fool would want her alive,” Hope snorted. “We had to prevent it whatever the cost,” she explained, her words causing Amira to wonder what they had done to the princess to fear her so much? “Unfortunately, she made sure her resurrection couldn’t be thwarted. But,” the goddess paused and Amira knew it was where her nightmare began, “there is always a way around.”
“So I kept dying and dying just because you needed time to figure out the way around Nially’s prophecy?” Amira almost yelled, barely containing her rage. The callously uttered words made her blood boil.
“Calm down, Angel,” Raven said, wrapping his arms around her. It helped to quell her fury a bit.
“Better listen to him,” Hope retorted, threat shining from her emerald eyes. “And no, at first you kept dying because you weren’t strong enough to survive transformation. We had nothing to do with it. Nially made certain the vessel would be able to contain her spirit.” Hope kept talking as if she was a thing and it enraged her even more. “And then, once you were, we had to be certain you fought and actually won. Who would have thought it would take this long. And don’t look at me as if it is my fault you are so unlovable.”
“Now listen here!” Raven stepped forward, his voice nothing but a threat. “One more insult and you’ll find out just how unlovable you are.”
“Maybe it’s not your fault,”—it was a moot point right now—“but you are responsible for the fate of Raven’s family. You made sure they all suffered. Or am I mistaken?” Amira shouted, her anger flaring bright red. How could they? Well, it was a silly question, was it not?
“Oh, stop your sputtering. You sound as if a tragedy has struck.” Hope had the nerve to roll her eyes, “It had to be done. Without it, he wouldn’t have been ready to sacrifice everything for what he loved. Not to mention it’s necessary—we have to kill off all the descendants at some point so they won’t notice they aren’t aging.”
Amira felt Raven stiffen. Enough was enough. It was one thing to play with her, but quite another with the man she loved. Not to mention, apparently, with many other people whose only crime was the blood flowing in their veins.
Many times she had dreamed of possessing the power to take on the gods. Many times she’d threatened to avenge them. Finally, the hour had arrived, and before Amira could take the time to weigh up all the pros and cons, she dived headlong, as she usually did, and opened up her mouth.
“Too many souls have screamed in pain—because you treated life as a game.” The entity inside her swirled as if agreeing. Encouraging her, even. “Well from now on it all shall cease—what you’ve sown you soon shall reap.”
The remaining energy broke from within, forcing Amira to stagger back while it weaved itself through her words, like climbing vines would through an iron trellis. She could feel anger transforming into promise. Her desire for justice—into law. It was all taking shape, being molded, until her words were etched in stone. Inescapable. Eternal. A prophecy bound to pass.
The moment she recognized it as inevitable, the same energy exploded, touching Amira with a final verdict she was compelled to voice, “…the one who screams with mortal’s bane might yet save his wretched tail…”
“Take it back,” Hope paled before her very eyes. “How can you do this to us?”
Amira gaped. “Do what?” she asked slowly and calmly. “Torture you simply because I can? Set traps with no way out? Strip you of your powers just as you are about to be raped or murdered? What I did is justice, what you did…”
“But you never got raped, now did you? You may have suffered, but not in the same way the girls do in those dungeons.” Hope got more and more flustered with every word. “You may have died hundreds of times, but it was always bearable and quick. You didn’t feel the whole brunt of it.”
“And if I was a naïve chit, I might even believe you,” Amira shot back, “But I do know that the only reason you softened those experiences was because you didn’t need a headcase incapable of doing anything except drooling over her shoes.”
When Hope didn’t deny it, Amira sighed and leaned into Raven, “I really shouldn’t have uttered the last part.”
“Of course you should have,” he kissed her neck. “You believe you deserve to survive, so prove it,” he told the goddess.
“The mortal’s bane…” Hope whispered as if to herself, “but what is it?”
“I suggest you find out…” and she was gone before Raven finished the sen
tence.
Time began ticking again. The witches finally stood up, looking around with expressions Amira could only describe as wishful. Yet, upon seeing how little the world had changed, their faces fell. And then their gazes landed on her.
Here we go again, Raven’s voice permeated Amira’s thoughts.
Be nice.
Says the one spelling doom for the gods, she could almost hear his laughter.
They both watched as a smaller group of elderly witches separated from the others and approached. One, who Amira assumed was a leader among them, stepped forward, dividing the distance between them in half.
“I am called Tanisha,” the woman curtsied, her eyes traveling from one to another. Tanisha hid it well, but Amira could still feel wave after wave of rolling fear. Confusion, as to why Amira was caged by a man’s embrace.
“I am not your princess,” Amira answered before the others made their reverences, “and I would rather you didn’t.” She gestured toward the bowed heads.
They slowly lifted them, but the fear in their eyes was a living flame.
I don’t understand, Amira admitted, they should be angry. Irritated.
Oh they are, he assured her, but I believe they fear you and tomorrow more. Still he pulled her closer, enveloping her body with his until her back was pressed to his chest, the strong beat of his heart calming her senses.
For the first time in her life, she was not about to meet uncertainty alone. She knew he would protect her, even though she was more than capable of meeting it herself. And it felt damn good!
“We are doomed!” After the longest pause a silent resignation echoed between the stone walls. Too loudly for Amira’s likening.
“You are delusional if you think Nially would’ve helped anyone but herself.” Raven found it impossible to keep silent. So don’t you dare feel guilty, he told Amira.
No one would have noticed how she flinched at Tanisha’s words, but he felt it in the marrow of his bones.
“The shield…” someone gasped, and he cursed, feeling another flinch.
We have to help them!
I don’t really feel magnanimous toward those who tried to rip your soul from your body, Raven replied. Scratch tried—they succeeded.
Till Death And Beyond (Witch World) Page 31
