“They come in the dark, the souls who passed before their time, to drag you into a never-ending night. It’s said if you lay eyes on one, your own spirit leaves your body so that they can trap it and keep it for their own.”
“Well, you won’t lay eyes on one if you just turn the other way.”
Amma flipped over so quickly he had no time to readjust, and then she was facing him. Still propped up on his elbow, he looked down at her, an inch away. Her eyes were still open wide, staring hard at his chest, hands wrapped around the cloak she’d gathered under her chin. And then, as if just realizing what she’d done, her face tipped up toward his.
At first Damien had thought he only found Amma attractive because he was so infrequently exposed to humans, but it had become clear to him that the once dirty, little thief was genuinely beautiful, even with her face drenched in shadows and painted with fear. Though now the dread she wore was marring the face he’d become so inconveniently fond of. It was a look he had inspired so many times on others but had never before wanted to take away and replace with adoration. He’d seen the way she looked at the things she admired on the road, how she beamed back when she finally earned the knoggelvi’s trust and nuzzling, the smile she’d given that lecherous barkeep, and suddenly he wanted very much to be the cause of that look instead, to see it now, for him.
Her knee shifted, inching over his leg, a thigh finding its way against his as if coaxing him closer. He had to remind himself that was not what she’d scrambled over the forest floor and cuddled up against him in the dark for, but dark gods, did it ever feel like she were asking him to take her. But then in Damien’s experience, when someone desired him they simply stripped off their clothing and thrust his hand or length where they wanted it to go, making themselves very clear. Amma, regrettably, did none of that, but she did stare up at him with that apprehensive look that he still desperately wanted to take away.
“Listen to me,” he said, setting his face stony. “I am the most frightening thing in this forest. Do you understand that?”
Amma’s brows knit like she didn’t quite believe him and began to glance warily over her shoulder.
Damien took his free hand to her chin and tugged her face back. “I asked if you understand. Do you?”
She nodded, and his thumb brushed up her jaw, skin soft under his fingers as he fought to keep from sliding his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her closer.
“Good. And since you have chosen to press yourself against the most frightening thing in this forest, you are either very brave,” he said with a playful lilt and then dropped his voice to a heady rumble, “or you are already in the worst possible danger you could be.”
His eyes drifted down to the slight part to her lips, feeling her gentle breath fall over his hand. She would be so easy to guide to his mouth, full lips ready to be devoured followed by the rest of her. That would surely take her mind off of the imaginary horrors out in the dark.
But then he glanced back up into her eyes. It had worked, a bit, the fear in them replaced like he wanted, but with something new, and for a moment, Damien was the one who was afraid. He’d never been looked at quite so longingly, had never felt someone want from him the things he suddenly felt Amma wanting. More than just a soulless, animalistic tumble and a traded favor, her gaze was looking right through him, searching for what he kept inside. She wasn’t going to trade her body to him for arcane resources or militaristic forces—she only wanted to know him. And, for a brief moment, he wanted to know her too.
But then it occurred to him that, no matter how willing she appeared, with the enthrallment talisman inside her and a countless number of his violent threats in her memory, Amma having an authentic choice in the matter was an illusion. In fact, Damien knew what it was to be enthralled himself, and even enthusiasm in the moment didn’t make up for being at the total mercy of someone who didn’t really need their victim’s “yes.” Damien knew he was evil, he had cut throats and set fires and reveled in the pain of others, but he wasn’t a monster.
He pulled his hand away from her and shifted onto his back once more, eyes flicking up to the darkness of the trees overhead. “You said you were told stories about this place, so you must have grown up nearby, yes?”
When Amma tried to speak, her throat was hoarse and dry. “Yes. Sort of.”
“All right, then you must have happy memories of your childhood too. Think of one of those, it should help you fall asleep.”
He felt her nod, and though she shifted onto her own back, she didn’t move away from him, still pressed shoulder to shoulder.
“You can tell it to me aloud, if you prefer,” he said hesitantly, hoping she would.
Amma hummed, a sweet sound in the hollowness of the forest, and then she began, “When I was about sixteen, there was a festival in the spring just when the whole world seemed to be in bloom…”
Damien listened to her dulcet voice, closing his own eyes. He was normally very uninterested in the lives of others in such a way, but when Amma spoke of the vibrancy of color, the softness of flower petals, the flavor of mint and citrus, he could see it in his mind, feel it on his fingers, taste it on his tongue, and then it all fell away as sleep finally took her.
In the quiet left behind, Damien waited, momentarily relieved, and then huffed; now what was he to do?
He glanced at her once more, head on his shoulder and resting against his side. Infernal darkness, he should not under any circumstances like that, and yet there he was, enjoying not even the touch but the accidental brush of a woman who had probably never even set a fire that wasn’t meant to be lit. It was cruel in the plainest sense, what she’d done to him, and Damien was no stranger to cruelty, both given and received. Though he could not recall the last time he had carved into someone for fun, even just the thought now repulsive.
But for badness’s sake, hewasevil, wasn’t he? And she was just so timid and sweet, she was afraid ofghostswhich didn’t even bloody exist. No, it wasn’t worth even considering the two of them somehow…entangled, not when all the effort it would take would surely lead to disappointment. He cut the thoughts off like an infected limb, and focused instead on the sound of Amma’s steady and quiet breathing, eventually falling into welcome sleep himself.
How much longer after, he was unsure, but his eyes opened again. Amma had rolled toward him once more, her forehead pressed into his shoulder and her fingers resting on his arm. It was exceptionally nice, and he did not want to move and disturb her, but he became aware of a milky fog that had come crawling in from the darkness beyond.
Damien sat up carefully. He scanned the trees then looked quickly to one side as there was movement across the dead fire. Nothing was there.
Amma nuzzled her head into the space where his body had just been, hand grasping feebly and coming up empty. He cocked a brow at that, but then the knoggelvi snorted, waking. One pawed at the fallen leaves. “Steady,” he commanded quietly from his spot on the ground, a hand out.
Damien opened his mind for the second time that night though he felt almost drunk, tired and strangely spent from Amma’s touch. His messy cast passed over Amma and Kaz and the knoggelvi to feel for other creatures. The forest was full of them, as expected, and then he realized that no, this was not as expected. This was more. Much more.
CHAPTER 21
ESSENTIAL KNOTS FOR CAPTURE AND RELEASE
On his feet, dagger unsheathed, Damien turned in place to take the number of them in. There were far too many, and how he had not felt them before, he had no idea, but then that was the nature of ghosts, he supposed—they weren’t exactly feelable.
