He unsheathes his dagger and begins stalking toward the door. I realize then that he means tomarkthem. To carve his seal into their skin before their souls fully leave this world, so that even in death, they are his. Unreachable by Thamaos.
“Is that some sort of ritualistic cleansing thing?” Keth inquires.
Without pausing or turning, Alexus answers. “No. It’s an Un Drallag thing.”
* * *
Neri followsme to my room.
The tension between us is as taut as an archer’s string. We have a matter of hours to figure out what to do.
That pressure has taken the emphasis off our previous situation. I fear I might always feel desire in his presence, but this afternoon, even though we were so very intimate a mere hour ago, we have a much more significant concern.
Neri shuts the door behind me as I move to my dressing table. Carefully, I retrieve the small cosmetics jar I placed the two sliphs of aether in last night after my talk with Alexus and remove the lid.
“This is all I have.” We meet in the middle of the room, and he peers inside.
He rests his hands loosely on his hips, and his penetrating eyes flick up. “Listen, I’m not trying to be domineering here. But we have no idea how this works for you. That amount of aether is nothing compared to what lives in the atmosphere. It might not get us where we need to go. It might not work at all.”
“It worked last night. Perfectly.”
“Yes. To sift us across the city. Not across the entire Northland Break. You’ve sifted two times. That is not enough experience with a primordial entity to tempt fate.”
I know he’s right, but…
“Do you have a better option?” I say with a bite of my usual sarcasm. “Want to see if Alexus, who is currently carving and burning the dead, will allow us to take off on Mannus and Tuck? The valley is probably covered in three feet of snow by now. I can’t imagine the slightly higher elevation in the wood and Winterhold.”
He scrubs his fingers through his white hair, but the long locks just fall back around his handsome face. “I can always try sifting again. It might work now.”
As though offering a reminder, the cut on my lip tingles. I twist the lid back on the jar and turn toward my dressing table, where the wine and glass I brought upstairs last night still sit.
“I need to tell you something,” I say as I pull the cork, requiring a little liquid courage to speak my theory about the curse aloud. At least my part, anyway. I’m still uncertain about whether we’re enduring the same issues.
Because my test didn’t exactly go as planned. He’s a wolf. Wolves tend to crave blood anyway, something I hadn’t even considered. But for me? It’s so unthinkable. So awful. The thought of being like this for the rest of my days…
I grab the glass, wondering why wine seems to dull the need for blood. I figure it’s because it dullseveryneed when you drink enough.
I’m already trembling, but I tilt the bottle over the glass’s rim anyway, trying to be careful. But the glass slips and shatters off the arm of the chair, sending wine all over Zahira and Yaz’s exotic rug and large shards of glass across the tile and carpet.
“Shit!” I hike my dress and bend to pick up pieces, but Neri joins me.
He crouches at my side and grabs my hands. “Nephele, stop.” He holds my gaze. “Calm down. You’re shaking. Let me.”
After a nod, I stand and grip the back of the chair, trying to steady my breathing while Neri gathers all the pieces in the palm of his hand and carries the broken glass to the nearby bin. When he places the pieces in the bottom, he hisses and swears.
He’s cut himself. Even had he given no response, I still would’ve known. The scent is so potent, even from across the room, that I can already taste it.
I grip the chair tighter as he turns toward me. Save for the night I stabbed the guard in the garden, I haven’t been in the presence of a bleeding person, and his blood was quickly washed away by the rain. There’s also been the butcher’s reserve Mari used that day in the kitchen. Its scent had been hidden beneath all the others but still drew me in. In the meeting room at Fia’s, when Neri and Alexus strolled in with blood seeping from their godsdamn faces, I hadn’t known what was happening. Hadn’t realized the oddity of smelling blood so strongly. Hadn’t associated the ache in my stomach with what it was.
Now, as Neri moves toward me, a craving surges, my stomach grumbling, my attention becoming consumed with that smear of red on the tip of his finger.
Cradling the wounded hand in his other one to prevent blood from dripping on the floor, he pauses a stride away. “Do you have a cloth?”
Gods’ stars, I can’t even process his words at first, but I finally snap out of it and hurry to the shelf near the tub where I retrieve a wash linen.
Once I’m standing before him again, breathing harder, I meet his eyes.
His brow draws down. “What is it, Nephele?”
