She hums noncommittally, her face such an uncharacteristic picture of innocence that I know she won’t be calling me Niko again any time soon. Goosebumps rise to her skin and her teeth clack together, but she ignores them both to cock her head expectantly. Like she’ll freeze to death before she gives into anyone’s will but her own.
I purse my lips in annoyance, and gesture vaguely to the floor. “Warm yourself, Willa. And then I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Willa stares at me for a moment longer, clearly deliberating whether or not she can push me any further. I school my face into the cruel boredom of a monarch. As stubborn as she is, I’m more so.
With a huff of irritation, she yanks viciously at the zipper of the dress, before pulling it over her head. I immediately drop my gaze to the ribbons slithering at her feet, but it isn’t quick enough not to notice the supple expanse of her olive skin stretched over toned curves. Nor is it quick enough to escape the sight of those curves hugged by a simple black bra, or the matching underwear cut high on the curve of her ass.
I’m suddenly thankful for the utter exhaustion of my useless body, because if I had even a shred of energy left, it would take far more than a discreet adjustment to hide the affect Willa has on me. I’ve lingered on the edge of existence for so long—not dead, but never truly alive—a half-life. What is it about Willa that jolts through me like electricity, waking things I thought long decayed?
I swallow roughly, dragging myself from the thought.
Willa hangs her dress next to my clothes, before curling up a few feet away. Her lips part as she stretches over the warm rock, and she lets out a little squeak of pleasure that has me yanking my ribbons back to me, if only to use the pain of them to ground me back to earth.
To keep me from replaying that sound in my head over and over.
She rolls her head slowly toward me, a smug smile playing on her lips, her hazel eyes glinting in dark amusement like she knowsexactlythe effect she has.
“I hope this isn’t the sort of power you meant,” she teases, running her fingers delicately over the smooth skin of her arm. “I don’t need some necrotic king to teach me that.”
Something hot and dark sparks in my chest as my gaze is dragged along with her fingertips, almost unwillingly, as they trail down her stomach, dip over the sharp curve of her hip. Something that feels like fury, but wilder.
When I finally wrestle my eyes away to meet hers, I find them no better than her body. Dark mischief sparkles among the splashes of green and gold, mischief that makes me want to lunge toward her—to pin that flawless skin beneath my fingers and show her exactly hownotnecrotic parts of me are.
I remind myself futilely that Willa doesn’t understand the danger in baring herself to me—the thin line she straddles between her life and my self-restraint. She is toying with a starved beast, dangling sustenance in front of claws that could tear her apart with hardly a thought.
She doesn’t know what one touch of my skin against hers will do. Doesn’t know it’s been two hundred and seven years since I’ve felt the warmth of any touch at all. Not even so much as a brush of another’s hand or the soft embrace of a friend’s arms. Willa doesn’t understand how the absence has driven me nearly to the brink of insanity, more so than any of the pain. How it has warped me, century by century, into the dark, hungry creature I am.
In my frail state, when pain and exhaustion have nearly overwhelmed me, I shamefully consider it. Taking that lush body beneath mine and devouring every piece I can before she decomposes beneath my fingers. Capturing her last breath with my lips and swallowing it whole, an eternal reminder of her pleasure.
The momentary weakness makes me hate myself—hate this whole, wretched kingdom—with a fury so sudden, so consuming, I feel as though I’ll combust with it.
But even the hatred isn’t enough to stop the ravening hunger.
“Tell me about this power, Niko,” she says, my name in her mouth a fucking sin. “If your heart is death, what is mine?”
Her fingers drift softly over her hips, before draping over the soft curve of her thighs. Her gaze never leaves mine, sparking in challenge, though I’m not entirely sure what she’s challenging meto.Does she want me to touch her? For someone who’s terrified of pain, it seems unlikely. She may not know that my skin is deadly, but she can surely feel it, just like any prey can feel the presence of a predator. That small voice inside that urges you to run, even when you aren’t sure why.
Perhaps she’s testing my restraint; restraint that’s fraying thinner by the second. The longer she looks at me, the hotter my skin grows. My fingers begin to twitch again, but this time, it isn’t the after-effects of my magic—it’s with the urge totouchher. Like if I don’t get her beneath me right now—if I don’t get her taste on my tongue—I’ll claw out of my own fucking skin. My cock aches, as dark heat lashes up my spine, tightening until I’m pulled so taut, one movement is all it would take to snap.
Realization hits me like an icy deluge. My want of her was so abrupt, so sharp, I thought I’d die with it and now I understand why—it wasn’t justmine.It was hers, tethered and tangled with my own until they became indeterminable. Unignorable.
My sharp laugh is wildly untethered, and Willa’s mouth pops open in surprise. Her hand freezes, and her cheeks redden as she glares at me so furiously, I laugh harder.
“What is so funny?” she demands hotly.
“Why, Willa, haven’t you yet guessed?” Her brow furrows in confusion, and another laugh ripples from me. “The things youpaint in your mind have a funny way of coming true, do they not?”
Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes I may have seen beneath her playful tease to the aching lust beneath. And not just seen butfelt.Thrumming right alongside my own.
“Your power is the very thing you claim to be nonsense,” I explain, now allowing myself the pleasure of running my gaze freely over her bare skin. “Imagination.”
Chapter nineteen
When the tide recedes a few hours later, Niko and I dress in silence and head to the mouth of the cave. He rolls up his pants carefully, and with his boots clutched in one hand and his cloak thrown haplessly over his shoulder, he wades into the icy water with a violent shudder.
I hesitate, staring out the depthless lagoon. The water is still, the violet and electric blue swirls of the night sky perfectly reflected on the surface. If it weren’t for the rock spires circling the lagoon, it would be nearly impossible to tell where the sky ends, and the sea begins.
Niko glances over his shoulder in question. “Is there a problem?”
