She sniffles, and I push away all thoughts but those of her. I take in her ruddy cheeks streaked with tears, then lift a fingertip, gently wiping away the trail of moisture.
Her lips quiver and pull into a sad smile. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I…I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“You had a nightmare,” I say, wiping another tear.
She shakes her head. “I don’t remember it.”
“I’m glad.” I don’t elaborate, don’t tell her that I was there. That I remember it. That I wouldn’t wish that memory on anyone. No wonder she forgot what happened that day. The trauma must be unbearable.
Her breathing evens out and she relaxes in my arms. My heart constricts, somehow soft and aching at the same time. How have I lived six years without feeling this range of emotion? Without the pleasure and pain that pierces my chest? How will I live without it again, after she’s gone, safe across the sea? How can I risk her life for the duration of our agreement? How can I focus on anythingbuther?
She reaches a hand toward my face and caresses my cheek. That’s when I realize I’m crying too. Or I was. What the hell is happening to me? Hot moisture drips down my face in trails I haven’t felt in even longer than six years. Maybe it’s from the nightmare. Maybe it’s because of her.
Her thumb brushes a tear away, then moves across the line of my jaw. Then to my mouth. She lifts her head, and I lower mine to meet her lips, a taste of salt between us. Our kiss starts as a tender thing, then blooms into something more urgent. It heats my blood until I’m on fire, ready to take her in every way, ready to let her take me, mold me, shape me—
“I smell it.” Sloth’s voice has us both going still. I reluctantly pull back from Inana and find Sloth huddled nearby in the shadows growing at the farthest corners of the cave. Daylight is waning, which means I need to get a hold of my fucking senses.
“You smell what?” I ask.
Sloth rises in a canine stretch. “Your blood. The others are close.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Inana
“Bite me,” I say in a rush, before my nerves can falter. We stand on the snowy bank beside the rushing river. The opposite shore is in sight, across the narrowest and gentlest expanse we could find close by. Yet it isn’t near enough. The water is still too treacherous to swim across.
Dominic’s eyes darken, but he says nothing in reply.
“Just…just do it. It’s fine. What if it’s the only way?” Anxiety claws at my chest. As much as I’ve enjoyed…certain benefits from being stranded with Dominic, I’m eager to get back to the others. To ensure they’re safe.
The sky is darkening toward evening, and this is the first break in snowfall we’ve seen. Yet even though Sloth insists he briefly sensed Dominic’s blood coming from somewhere nearby, we still haven’t seen any sign of the others. Dominic cut his palm and spilled his blood in the snow to aid Calvin’s efforts in finding us, but that was at least half an hour ago. It doesn’t help that we can’t see the road from here.
Dominic heaves a sigh. “I said it would be a last resort. We haven’t reached that level of desperation.”
I roll my eyes. “I said it’s fine. Besides, this is the perfect tree.” I point at the old tree not far down the river. It’s mossy and weathered, tall but not too thick, with hardly any lower branches left on it. Andit looks tall enough to fall straight across the river, and then some. “If we’re going to make our own bridge, this is how, right? What if the river is interfering with your captured Shades’ senses? What if crossing will help us find them?”
He glances from the river to the tree, then back to me. His expression takes on a tormented edge. “I don’t drink fresh blood if I can help it. It…it’s how I separate myself from them.”
“That’s why you drink from vials? Does that mean you’ve never tasted fresh blood?”
“I wouldn’t say never,” he says, tone laced with regret. “The first thing we feel after regaining consciousness following the Absolution ritual is an intense thirst. The priests who perform the ritual sacrifice an acolyte, locking them in a room with us until we feed. The acolytes don’t survive.”
My heart aches, both for him and for all those sacrificed acolytes. Gods, how many humans have been sacrificed for the Sinless, between Absolution, lighting the braziers, and general feeding? How many Sinless even are there? I never realized quite how many there were until I lived in Nalheim, where Sinless lords and ladies could be seen on almost every street. There must be…thousands across the continent. Which means there are seven times that number of Shades, minus the ones that have been killed after becoming Incarnate.
Just when I’d gotten a respite from my swirling, nagging thoughts and questions, my anger sparks all over again.
But none of my anger is at Dominic.
I step closer to him and place one hand on his chest, over the cold leather of his jerkin. “I’m not offering myself as a sacrifice. I’m giving you my blood as your Summoner.”
His breath hitches and he fists his hands at his sides as if to keep from reaching for me. “You don’t understand. Fresh blood…It’s different. And since it’s been so long since I’ve fed, I could lose control, especially if it’s coming from you.”
“Most definitely if it’s you,” Lust says. It isn’t quite dark enough to see him clearly, but I feel a wispy touch running through my hair. “And I like losing control.”
Another caress, this one against my cheek. It seems his Shades arerebelling against Dominic’s determination not to give in and touch me. “It would be a godsdamned honor if you let me taste you,” comes Pride’s voice.
“I’ll be a good boy.” This voice is far more innocent than the others, and it comes with a bump against my leg. I pat Sloth’s head with my free hand.
