And I wanted nothing more than for him to finish me. Burn every last piece to the ground.
Our eyes locked.
I couldn’t move or speak, his mouth barely a breath from mine.
His chest heaved in and out, his eyes tracking mine. Desire assaulted every molecule, licking and stroking the air with ruin.
Something deep inside me hummed with life. With death. The two sides circling and lashing out in an endless battle.
I wanted him to kiss me. To thrust inside me so deeply there would be no beginning or end.
His mouth lowered, the heat from his lips grazing mine.
I craved to take everything like I did the other day. Instead of my shadow touching his body, I dove underneath, grazing his mind, his soul, reaching for his truth.
I barely slipped under his skin when I felt energy slammed back into me, engulfing me.
Mind-blowing pain.
Blinding pleasure.
Intimate. Raw. It broke me down to a single shred of existence, like being hit by a strike of lightning. The power infused us, blinding, painful, but filled me so full only the deepest, rawest carnal passion thumped and ripped through me.
A howl echoed through the room at the same time a cry tore from my lips, the energy penetrating and winding around us, and I quickly retreated, the extreme emotions overwhelming every sense.
“Fuck!” he bellowed, scrambling off me with a snarl, his lids lowered on me like I was some demon. “What the fuck was that?”
My breath was ragged; I wondered the same thing. “I-I don’t know.”
He stared down at me, his chest heaving. “Don’t ever fuckin’ do it again,” he rasped out, fury and disgust curling his lip.
“Don’t worry.” Sitting up, my lip rose. “I won’t. I want nothing to do with you.”
“Good,” he snapped, his shoulders still surging. “Let’s keep it that way.”
He turned abruptly, slamming out of the door, leaving me gasping, horny, scared, and rejected.
Which assembled into one pissed-off bitch.
Chapter 8
Sleep abandoned me, leaving me out in the cold, harsh land of my thoughts.
Tossing and turning, I searched for reprieve over and over, only to end up even more restless and cranky. My head filled with everything that had been going on, though one thing seemed to dominate it, one person, but I was trying really hard not to acknowledge the endless space he was taking up in my mind.
I gave up around three a.m. I turned on my lamp and sat up, hugging my arms around my legs. Warwick wasn’t the only thing churning in my brain. I was also worried about Ash. Wondering if he was back in Budapest yet, if he was okay. Andris, Birdie, and especially Scorpion were constantly circling through my thoughts. Were they safe? Found a new base? Andris was probably freaking out, thinking something horrible happened to me.
The one person who would know I was at least alive was Scorpion.
Breathing out, I laid my head back against the wall, shutting my lids, trying to reach out to him. The link was still there, which told me he was alive, but I couldn’t actually see him or project myself to where he was. Our connection wasn’t strong.
Was it because I was buried underneath thousands of energy-sucking spirits? I couldn’t link to Warwick when I was down here before either. Only when I was away at the train station was he able to find me.
Which landed on the big issue really bothering me: I attracted the dead. Had brought some back to life.
Who the fuck could do that? Not even fae could, except a high Druid/obscurer, and they could only bring back them half back. Where they were alive but living half-lives. Shells. Tortured souls who were neither alive nor dead. And the theory that necromancers brought people back from the dead was slightly misconstrued; they just reanimated skeletons. There was no soul or anything left.
Druid or necromancer, all their victims were zombie-esque.
Warwick and Scorpion were neither. And I wasn’t a Druid or a necromancer.
So, what the hell was I?
Rubbing at my face, I felt the draw to head upstairs. Like the ghosts were calling me to come play. Ash did tell me I needed to challenge them. Take control. The curiosity of talking with them simmered under my skin. Would I be able to fully communicate with them? What if they could tell me what I was?
“Fuck it.” I shoved back the covers, dressing quickly in a tank, cargo pants, and boots, tossing my hair into a ponytail before venturing out.
The halls were silent, most of the humans fast asleep, and many fae were probably out “hunting” for food, which usually meant humans in some form. Fae fed mainly off sex, emotions, or human sins for energy. The human/fae food pyramid was far from perfect, but I no longer looked at every fae as the devil now. They were only trying to survive like everyone else.
Going up the flights of stairs, the weight of each soul began to push down on me. This time I understood why I was so tired and nauseated when I got close to the surface. They could sense me and reached for me through the layer of soil between us.
Taking the last few steps, I crawled out of the crypt and into the Bone Church. The moment I did, the spirits came for me, rushing for me like a stampede. “No!” I ordered. “Stop.”
They did not listen.
“No!” I shouted again. My muscles started to wobble, blackness seeping into my vision, my teeth clenching down. “Get back!”
More and more charged, the spirits brushing against my skin, their voices joining together like the hiss of static until it pounded in my head. A strangled cry broke from my lips.
“I said stop!” I screamed, my back curving over, vomit climbing up my throat. I fell to the ground, trying so hard to shield myself, but my energy continued to drain out quickly.
My gut knew they didn’t mean to hurt me, but there were so many. They were ripping bits of my life away, sucking everything from me.
With utter clarity, I understood this was what I did to Warwick the other day, taking his energy. If the link hadn’t been cut, would I have stopped? Would I have killed him? Because without a doubt, I felt in my soul this was what was happening now.
Leave it to me to die because I was too stubborn to ask for help.
My face hit the stone floor, my conscious thoughts slipping away.
“No! Get the fuck up, princess.” A deep voice lifted my lids, and Warwick’s shadow loomed over me. “Get the hell up and fight!”
“I can’t.” Every bone felt like jelly. I just wanted to sleep. Forever.
“Fuck that,” he growled. “You had the capability and strength to tear through time and space to save me, and you’re going to give up now?” He squatted, his anger igniting his eyes. “You have more power in you than you know. Use me! I will not lose you. Not to a bunch of ghosts,” he bellowed. “Now get the fuck up, sotet démonom. FIGHT!”
He reached down and touched my face, and I felt his force filling me, giving me strength.
My lids burst open, a gasp tearing from my throat. Power snapped down my spine, and I sat up, energy exploding from me. The dark church burst with light, crackling like lightning, exposing the jumble of ghosts surrounding me in the shadows. No faces or even bodies, but their presence, their need for me, hazed the air.
“Get. Back!” The order boomed from my chest. It was like a bomb went off. The spirits flew back, the voices in my head going silent. Energy discharged from me, crackling the air, rumbling like thunder, as I rose to my feet, my shoulders rolling back. “Now!”