by Ryvr Jones
He removed her boots and socks, worshiping every inch of skin as he revealed it. Bringing one delicate foot to his mouth, he licked the arch. Tarani moaned and thrust her hips off the bed.
Rhys gave the other foot the same attention, delighting in the soft texture of her pale skin. He traveled up, kissing and nipping until he got to the barrier created by her pants.
His hands went to her waist and he found her watching him, her eyes big, glazed with lust. His cock throbbed, begging for attention. He tugged her pants down and she lifted her hips, helping him. He took her pants off, marveling at the sight of the naked legs he loved to feel around him.
She parted her legs, her knees slightly bent, giving him a perfect vision of her wet sex. Rhys wanted to taste her, but she grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed, moaning, while the other hand went down, delving between her folds.
Entranced, Rhys watched her as she rubbed her clit, then slipped a finger inside her slit. She cried out, and the husky sound sent electricity through him, curling his toes. He needed to be inside her more than he needed to breathe. Breathing was overrated.
He grabbed her hand and sucked her fingers clean, groaning at the sweet taste, while she moaned and started to finger-fuck his mouth.
Rhys positioned himself above her and rubbed his length against her folds, her wetness and the precome leaking from him creating a mind-blowing glide. His stomach burned with arousal, his skin felt tight and feverish.
She moved with him, grinding her sex against his shaft. “Rhys,” she whispered, gripping his hair and pulling him down for a voracious kiss.
“Need to be inside you,” he rasped against her lips. She bit him and opened her legs further, moving her hips up. It was all the encouragement he needed.
In one smooth movement, he thrust into her. She gasped and kissed him with violence, sucking his lower lip and biting his tongue.
Rhys closed his eyes for a moment, but his control was lost. Her channel hugged his pulsing cock, sucking him in, scorching his flesh with amazing heat. Tarani undulated below him, never stopping the kiss.
He managed to whisper, “If you need me to stop, tell me,” before he started to move. As he pulled out almost all the way and plunged into her again, Tarani clutched him with her legs around his waist and her hands in his hair.
“More,” she asked, moaning and grinding against him.
Sliding in and out, he took possession of her, wanting to imprint himself on her, all the way to her soul. His thrusts became savage, out of control, a primal need to own her body taking over him.
She responded with equal aggression, digging her nails into his back, biting his neck and his shoulders. He growled, welcoming the slivers of pain. The sharp sensation added to his pleasure, making him mindless with lust.
Knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, Rhys snaked a hand between them and found her clit. He started to rub it in tandem with his thrusts, applying pressure and swallowing her cries with a kiss.
“Please, oh, please,” she gasped, her muscles locked around him.
“Let go, Tarani. Come apart for me,” he murmured and she convulsed, spasms shaking her body. She bowed off the bed and her sheath squeezed his cock, taking him with her.
Lightning shot down his spine, blinding him for a second as he went rigid, roaring his pleasure when his orgasm crashed over him. He shot spurt after spurt inside her, shuddering, lost in the oblivion of her warmth.
When it was finally over, he collapsed beside her and tugged her into his arms. She snuggled him, resting her head on his shoulder, her breath as labored as his own.
“How do you feel?” He hoped he hadn’t been too rough with her.
“That,” she panted, “was amazing.”
Sighing, he hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, it was.” He didn’t know what else to say. His body was sated but his mind was overcome with anxiety. He wanted to hold Tarani until the end of time, but he was afraid she would go away soon.
“You didn’t even take your pants off,” she observed, drawing circles with her fingers on his stomach.
He chuckled. “I was distracted.”
So distracted, he hadn’t thought about the consequences. The only thing on his mind had been touching her, being with her. He hadn’t thought about how it would make letting her go even harder. He tightened his embrace, burying his face in her hair. Stay with me, Tarani. Don’t let me go.
“I can hear your heart beating.” She put a hand over his chest. “I can feel it in my skin. I’ve wanted to do that since I woke up on your bed, in your cabin.”
He remembered how she had feigned unconsciousness to keep him close. How her kindness had torn him apart.
“It was the first time in centuries that I felt something here,” he said, covering her hand with his. “It scared the shit out of me.”
She lifted her head and stared at him. “Why?”
Fuck. “Because feeling things makes you vulnerable. To pain, betrayal, disappointment.” He sighed. “I was used to not feeling anything. Not caring about anything.”
Tarani pushed away from him, swinging her legs off the bed and turning her back to him. “But you did care about her.”
Fuck fuck fuck. How could he explain what he felt without creating even more distance between them, without pissing her off even more? He didn’t have everything neatly explained even inside his head.
“It’s not like that,” he said and winced. Great going, dumbass. That will convince her to stay. He sat up and touched her shoulder. Tarani remained motionless, barely breathing, like a beautiful marble statue. He tried again. “What I feel for you doesn’t have anything to do with Brianna.”
There were several moments of silence. He waited, his gut twisting with dread. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t what he expected.
“Can you get me something to clean myself up?” She ducked her head. “I’m all sticky.”
“Of course.” He mentally kicked himself. “Give me a minute and I’ll bring you a wet cloth.”
He didn’t find any small towels or cloths in his bathroom. Cursing, he walked out the room, praying he didn’t run into Caeron. He’d never live it down if the bastard found him with his sticky dick hanging out of his pants.
Rhys made it to the bathroom undetected. Closing the door behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. After cleaning himself and closing his pants, he took a moment to calm down.
The reflection in the mirror showed he’d been thoroughly and well fucked. He had scratches and bite marks everywhere, his hair was messed up, his eyes still wild, his lips swollen.
He just wanted to do it all again.
And he knew Tarani was getting ready to go away.
I can’t ask her to stay, and I can’t let her go. What in the name of fuck am I going to do? He gripped the edge of the sink with both hands, bowing his head in defeat.
He refused to believe that what she felt for him, her kindness, the care she’d showed him, were just remains of Brianna’s feelings. He needed Tarani to feel something, anything, for him.
I’m thoroughly and well fucked, all right. In more ways than one.
She was definitely under his skin. The need for her was real. And he couldn’t deny any longer that he cared about her. A lot.
A whole fucking lot.
Maybe he was a selfish prick, drawn to her because of her light. Because she made the lonely, darker corners of his soul hurt a little less.
And I still don’t have anything to offer her besides a scarred, dying soul.
Still, there was the pesky little issue of the end of the world. Even if she didn’t feel anything for him, he needed her help. He had to persuade her to stay, no matter what. It was far more important than his feelings.
Pushing away from the sink, Rhys took a small towel from the hook, soaked it in warm water and gave it a wring. He’d stalled too long, so he went back to his room.
The second he stepped inside the door, he felt the emptiness. Tarani was gone.
Hidden inside the Shadows as Seersha had taught her earlier, Tamerah waited. Rhys came through the door with a cloth in hand and stopped short, balling his hands into white-knuckled fists. The sadness in his face made her heart bleed. She rubbed her chest, feeling the familiar ache.
He’s in pain. And it’s my fault.
Rhys closed the door and threw the cloth across the room. He sat on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, hiding his face behind his hands.
Tamerah hugged herself, desperately trying to ignore the impulse to step out the Shadows and comfort him. She’d let her emotions run free, finally giving into the temptation of touching Rhys. Kissing him again.
It had been intoxicating, the feel of his skin, his warmth, the powerful muscles under her fingers. The way he’d worshiped her body, how much pleasure he gave her. The tenderness he offered afterwards.
It had been the most beautiful, perfect thing.
And it made everything worse.
She didn’t know where she’d gotten the strength to send him away, get dressed, steal the vial from his coat and hide. But she knew that if she waited for him to get back, she’d never walk away. She’d never know if what she felt was real, if those feelings were her own.
Tears slid down her face. Was it worth it to see Rhys so defeated, in that much pain? To feel like she was being ripped apart, like her soul was dying?
Even as she questioned herself, she knew the answer. It wasn’t a matter of worth or not. She needed to figure out who she was, before even thinking about her feelings for him.
Because something inside her was screaming for freedom. Whispering she was more than a copy.
She palmed the vial in her pocket. The prospect of drinking Brianna’s blood disgusted her, but maybe it’d give her some answers.
“I hope to fuck you’ll come back to me, Tarani.” Rhys’s broken whisper cut her to the bone.
Swallowing a sob, unable to stand his pain anymore, Tamerah closed her eyes and let the Shadows take her away.
Tamerah looked around. Seersha had taken her to an abandoned factory located in the outskirts of Tarmanagh. The old building had been empty for decades, the smell of rusty pipes and decay permeating everything.
Moonlight filtered through the broken windows, casting most of the place in shadows. As Seersha unlocked a door and led her downstairs to the basement, Tamerah shivered and wondered if she was walking into a dungeon, then took a deep breath. She could easily get away if she found herself in danger. At least, I think I can.
Before she’d gone to see Rhys earlier, Seersha had told her how to use the Shadows—a power given by Death itself to Seersha and others like her, which allowed them to travel almost instantaneously to any place, as well as conceal their presence. Tamerah hadn’t had much practice, but she’d managed to use it well enough.
“This is one of my homes,” Seersha said as she turned the lights on, revealing a place much like Rhys’s cabin. It was bigger, but just as simple. Concrete walls and floor. An antique wardrobe against a wall, beside a huge bed covered in black linens and pillows. A chest matching the wardrobe sat at the end of the bed.
To the other side, a huge copper boiler occupied most of the wall. It seemed very old. Probably part of the factory’s original machinery, but unlike the machines upstairs, it was in pristine condition. A black rug covered the floor between the boiler and a leather sofa. Which was also…black.
Tamerah tilted her head. “You don’t like colors very much, do you?”
“I’m a creature of the shadows.” Seersha shrugged and gestured to the sofa. “Take a seat. You don’t want to be standing while you drink the blood. The memories can dump you on your ass.”
Swallowing hard, Tamerah sat and took the little vial from her pocket. “Will it hurt?”
“Yes.” Seersha let out a sigh. “If you want your memories back, it’s the only way.”
“So be it.” More than anything, Tamerah wanted to remember. To know herself, what her life had been before she’d awakened in the cemetery. She took a deep breath and opened the vial, fighting the revulsion that curled in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she drank the blood in one long gulp and shuddered. The coppery taste made her gag.
Seersha took the vial away and sat beside her. “You need to keep it down or it won’t work.”
A second later, something twisted inside Tamerah and exploded in her head. She cried out and curled up, clutching her temples. Her eyes burned as acid tears fell down her face. The pain climbed down her throat and took over her body, dissolving her limbs in agony.
I’m dying.
It hurt so much she couldn’t breathe.
I’ve died before.
Tamerah floated in and out of consciousness, memories gurgling inside her, sharp and painful as mirror shards crawling under her skin.
Brianna was there, the fire in her eyes dimmed by sadness while Tamerah died. The Morahmath whispered a litany, a soft chant flowing to the sky. Dying wasn’t dying but turning into mist, incorporeal, ethereal, unreal.
Tamerah was no more.
Darkness and silence. Then…a dark light and a voice. Seersha’s voice, telling her stories. About the Gods and their Bridges, the moon and the stars and all the creatures that lived in the night. About a warrior, strong and proud, who served the Goddess. Who had been lost.
A song full of melancholic beauty, a lullaby for the trees that slept by the river. The whisper of a creek, a sad smile.
The shards cut deeper.
The Abyss, the evil within. The darkness was coming. Seersha looked for a soul, but no one wanted Tamerah. I’m sorry, she said, there’s no other option, and then excruciating pain…
Tamerah woke up, a scream leaving her lips without permission. She heaved and hugged herself, her body throbbing with echoes of remembered pain.
A hand touched her shoulder and she recoiled, before her brain recalled where she was. Sitting on a sofa. In a basement. Seersha. “Dark light,” Tamerah rasped, “you gave me a piece of your soul. That’s why I can use the Shadows.”
“Yes.” Seersha’s black gaze settled on Tamerah’s face, full of sorrow. “I couldn’t find anyone else willing to do it, and it can’t be done without consent. I ran out of time.”
“Because Rhys’s soul is dying.” Tamerah scrunched her eyes closed. She’d been so angry and lost after reading Brianna’s letter, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it. To believe it.
But Seersha nodded, forcing her to acknowledge the truth. “The darkness is corroding his soul. Every time there’s a bigger hole in it, he goes to the Abyss. Eventually there will be no more soul, no more barrier between the darkness and the world.”
“But then…” Tamerah choked on her own words, unable to say them.
“Then all will be lost.” There was finality in Seersha’s words.
No. Now that she had time to cool off, and had some memories back, the desire to help Rhys keep the world safe, to keep him safe, unfurled inside her.
“There must be something we can do to save his soul.” Tamerah hugged her knees, trying to find some hope in her heart. I wasn’t created to watch him die and see the darkness destroy the world.
“I don’t know.” Seersha pursed her lips. “And the Sheramath didn’t know, either.”
“I’ll find a way.” Tamerah heard her own words as if they came from someone else, full of a courage she didn’t feel. “I won’t let his soul die.”
Seersha stared at her for long moments, unreadable emotions flaring in her eyes. Finally, she squared her shoulders. “It’s a risk, but there’s something we can do. You need to deliver Caeron’s address to someone.”
“Why is it a risk?” Tamerah was willing to do almost anything to save Rhys and the world, but she wouldn’t go in blind.
“Because of the Rules.” Seersha took a deep breath. “The Enforcers are a breed created to enforce them. When one of us breaks the Rules, they hunt the offender and punish him as their creator sees fit. Th
ere’s no escaping them, and even if you survive—and that’s a big if—you won’t come out unscathed.” She closed her eyes, her face washed in sadness. “Nobody does.”
Tamerah shuddered. “You speak from experience.”
“Yes.” Hatred and fear emanated from Seersha in thick waves. “If we do this, we’re going to break the most important rule—not interfering with humans. We’re just going to speed some things along, and this person is not entirely human. But it’s a risk nevertheless.”
“If—” Tamerah swallowed hard. She could do this. “If you think this will help, I’ll do it.”
“Very well.” Seersha stood. “First, you need to practice using the Shadows, to ensure no one will see you.”
Chapter Twelve
It had been three days since Tarani left.
Rhys could feel the darkness growing inside him, getting stronger, tearing at his control. He spent all his time and energy worrying about Tarani, missing her, and trying to keep the darkness from getting out.
Despite his efforts, he felt like he was fighting a hopeless battle, losing a little more of himself with every passing day. Someone needed to keep an eye on him, so he’d stayed with Caeron. While Rhys did the best he could to keep the darkness leashed, Caeron was always sitting at his desk, the surface covered with books and manuscripts as he searched for information about the rotten souls.
In the rare moments the darkness quieted and granted him a respite, Rhys looked for clues that could lead them to the Sacred Lineage’s Heirs—if they had indeed survived.
They hadn’t been able to find even a footnote about any of them in Caeron’s ancient tomes or the Internet, and none of the supernaturals they’d contacted knew anything either.
The rotten fuckers hadn’t showed their ugly faces near Caeron’s home, but it was too much of a coincidence that they’d appeared now, when his soul was dying. Rhys was sure they would come for him. He just didn’t know when.
And yet, there was nothing he could do at the moment except fight the darkness, do what little research he could, and wait.
