Several of the snakes on Morax’s head lash out at Nefta as she steps inside his swing and finally bats at him with her scythe.
“You know you can’t reset me,” Morax taunts.
“No, but I can end you,” she counters with a backhand swing of her sword.
Like a ray of sun breaking through the clouds to light my way, I see my chance. I take three strides forward and swing at Morax’s winged back. He whirls around tornado fast until he’s facing me. I raise my scythe to swing it toward him, ready to hook around his neck. One quick pull and they can call me the Queen of Hearts, because it will be off with his motherfucking head.
“You don’t want to do that, little one,” he tells me smoothly, his tone vibrating with an undercurrent of something that makes me pause.
His eyes flash with determination as he takes me in, and I find myself oddly drawn to him. Why am I trying to kill him instead of trying to understand what he needs from me?
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see demons converging on Nefta, but the sounds of the battle that’s still raging all around me are muffled. Morax steps closer to me, and I can feel his large hand snake around my waist, making my lips part on a gasp.
“Mmmm, so responsive,” he purrs, and he’s so close I can feel his breath on my mouth. I lean in, my eyes staring at his face greedily.
My scythe is hanging limply at my side, and something about that pulls me from my thoughts of Morax’s full lips and why I don’t want to kill him. I stare down at the blades, feeling like there’s something really important that I’m supposed to do with them, but I can’t for the life of me remember what.
“You’re so ripe for the picking, it’s almost wrong. Too bad I’ve never cared much for wrong or right. You’re so quick to abandon your will,” he says, his hand cupping my cheek and his thumb grazing gently over my lips. “Not even an ounce of fight,” he observes, tilting my head back as his white snake eyes study my face and trace the lines of my lips. “Youwantto be owned, don’t you?”
Bewilderment sparks somewhere inside of me. I’m not sure exactly where it comes from, just that it’s there. Morax leans down like he’s going to kiss me, but instead of responding to that like it’s a good thing, all I can think is that he’s not one of my Guardians. I don’t want to be kissinganyonebut them.
Their images flash through my mind as the Ophidian’s chest presses against mine. I can feel my heart steadily beating, and that strikes me as odd too. When my demons touch me, hold me, my heart always picks up the pace with excitement. But now, it’s almost like it’s anesthetized.
Will.
Fight.
Owned.
The words rise to the surface of my foggy brain, and I clench my hands as I become aware of the scythe again.
This is wrong.
He’s not...them.
In a move so quick it rivals the speed of the demon who’s somehow fucked with my mind and is closing in on my lips like a predator does prey, I flip my scythe in my hand so the straight blade is leading. Morax tracks the movement, but I’m sinking the blade into his chest before he can so much as try to take a step back from me.
My eyes widen on the spot where my blade pierces his flesh. I expect him to turn to ash, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even flinch or gasp in pain. Confused and panicked, I pull the end out of him and step back, flipping the scythe again so I can get him with the curved blade now that there’s space between us and room for me to use the other end.
He blocks the second strike like he’s swatting away an annoying bug. Black blood pools onto the fabric of his shirt, but instead of acknowledging it in any way, he reaches down and adjusts himself. I quickly look away from the bulge in his pants.
“You’re stronger than I thought,” he tells me with a lascivious grin, need glimmering in his unusual eyes.
Unease churns inside of me as alarm bells sing in my head. I can feel all the wrongness that’s wrapped around him like a cloak. I don’t know who this dude is or what exactly his power is that he used on me, but fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“I’m going to have the best time playing with you.”
That creepy smile on his face goes hand in hand with my need to vomit. I feel rattled and violated, and all he’s doing is looking at me. All at once, his snake hair looks at me, and they start writhing around in some kind of weird ass hypnotic dance.
“It’s time to go now, little one. Take my hand.” He reaches out, palm up, and once again, I’m completely discombobulated.
It’s time to go.
Frowning, I reach for him, but before I can close the distance between us and slip my palm into his, a winged being slams down between us, and a cloud of dirt and grass goes flying out all around us from the impact.
“That is my daughter you are fucking with, Snake Charmer,” Tazreel growls, his blond wings held out proudly on either side of him.
Taz’s voice yanks me from the confounding venom Morax keeps slipping into my head.How the fuck is he doing that?
