What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(118)

My God was nothing but pure, brutal beauty, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him; not ever again.

“They won’t hurt you, Little One,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he stared down at me. Even his voice was deeper, something ancient resting within it as those blue eyes gleamed.

I looked away from him, staring between the skeletons to where the corpses of the dead Mist Guard fought with the Marked who’d emerged from the rubble to escape. We’d found the people we’d come to save, and in doing so, I had led the Fae right to them.

The army of the dead disarmed them, forcing them to their knees and restraining them in groups as I watched in horror.

“Stop this,” I pleaded, turning my attention back to Caldris where he waited for me, that hand of his still outstretched, as if he couldn’t quite believe I wouldn’t sink into his embrace again.

I wouldn’t allow him to touch me, ever, after what he’d done, and the way he’d lied to me at every turn.

I hadn’t even known his name. He wasn’t even fucking human.

“You know I can’t do that,” he said, something probably not regret shadowing his face as he stared down at me intently. His attention never even so much as twitched off of me, completely unconcerned with the battle waging around us.

“Let them go, and I’ll go with you. That’s what you want, right? That’s what the purpose of all of this was? Just let them go.” I begged, swallowing down my terror at the thought of being brought to Alfheimr, and of what might wait for me there.

“Oh, my star,” he said sadly, sympathy filling his gaze as his hand dropped to the iron chain wrapped around my neck. He unraveled it slowly, the flesh of his fingertips burning against the touch of the warded metal until he flung it to the side. “You’ll come with me anyway.”





38





My knees almost collapsed with the rush of power returning to my body. My Mark glowed as white as freshly fallen snow, the inky shadows twirling within it in tandem with the moving Mark on his neck.

I slapped his hands away, wanting nothing to do with them on my skin, knowing that it must have all been a lie. His claim of love. His desire for me. I’d been stupid enough to fall for all of it, while he’d played me like a fool and used me to get to the Resistance.

He grabbed me by the chin with unyielding fingers, tilting my head to the side as he inspected the burn marks on my throat from where the iron had scorched my skin. His brow furrowed momentarily, and then he released me as suddenly as he’d caught me.

Lifting his dagger to his wrist, he slid the sharp edge of the blade against his skin. Blood welled from the wound, flowing over his skin and dripping on the ground as he raised it toward me. He placed his wrist at my mouth, wincing as I drew back from the pressure of his arm against my lips. “Drink,” he ordered, his lips twisting into a snarl when I shook my head and pressed back farther into the wall.

He shoved his wrist against my lips, applying so much pressure that I had no choice but to part them or they’d tear open against my teeth. The taste of him sank inside me, coating my tongue and dripping down my throat with molten heat. With lava flooding through my veins and yet deadly cold, all at once.

He warmed me from the inside, his blood sinking into my belly and making me feel complete for the first time. I squeezed my thighs together, desire building in me even though I knew, logically, that I wanted to murder him for what he’d done to me.

I swayed toward him when he pulled his wrist away from my mouth finally, craving more of the substance that had filled me with euphoria like I’d never known. My body awakened, my skin buzzing with awareness as the sun above us seemed to gleam a little brighter. He drew back and stared down at the wounds covering my hand from when I’d fallen to the rubble after being hit with the iron chain. I watched in fascination as the cuts stitched themselves back together, new skin growing to fill in the bloodied slashes, until there was nothing but a slight pink tinge left.

When I turned my stare back up to him from the healing of my injuries, his eyes were transfixed on my lips. I licked them, finding the slightest taste of blood coating them and drawing it inside me against my better judgment.

“Fuck,” Caelum groaned, grabbing me around the side of my neck. The moment his palm came down on the Mark itself, power flooded my veins. The cold breath of winter. The shadows that chased the sun.

The dominance of the God in front of me as he tilted my face up and his mouth conquered mine. His tongue swept inside, tasting his blood as he devoured me, obliterating any delusion I might have had that he’d ever kissed me before. He’d been nothing but a gentleman, civilized as could be compared to the way that he now tried to meld our bodies, pinning me to the wall.

I melted into him, feeling the familiar edge to his embrace that meshed with the reality of who he was, and what he was, hanging between us. With the truth in the open, he was finally free to be himself.

With that thought, I placed a hand at each of his shoulders and pushed him back. He separated from me the moment I demanded it, pulling his mouth off of mine as he turned a frustrated stare down at me in question.

I shook my head, turning my eyes away as they burned with the threat of tears. I couldn’t let him see me cry. I couldn’t let him see how thoroughly he’d destroyed me.

I’d loved him. Loved every one of his lies.