Blood of an Ancient (13 page)

“Phro?” I whispered.

“Yeah.”

“What did you see in the forest?” I kicked the covers off, too hot in my sweatpants, but unwilling to sleep in next to nothing while sharing a room with Blythe.

“Nothing. Something had been barreling through the woods, crushing bushes and cracking tree limbs, but it was gone by the time I got there.”

“Weird.” Turning onto my side, I squished the pillow to try and make it less boardlike. It was a fruitless endeavor. Nothing about this bed was getting more comfortable. Even the comforter was nubby and had a mustiness that made me want to sleep in a mask. I tugged the neck of my T-shirt over my nose and held it there.

Blythe crawled around in her sleep. And she sprawled. Right now, she had one hand and one foot out of the covers and hanging off the bed. The only other exposed part of her was her hair. Blonde curls poked out between the covers and pillow.

Chuckling, I turned onto my back and let go of the shirt so I could pull out the ankhs and hold them together in my palm.
 

I fell asleep and woke again in Nikolos’s cell.

Chapter Seven

“Nikolos!” I ran across the room and dropped to the pallet. Brushing his tangled, dirty hair off his face, I took in the new bruises. His right eye was swollen shut and a nasty bump stuck out on the side of his head. His lips, cracked and dry, hung open, his breathing labored. “Nikolos, wake up.”

He didn’t so much as move.

“Hey,” I said softly, touching the less-bruised part of his jaw. “Please wake up. You shouldn’t be sleeping.” His lack of response filled me with fear. I ran my gaze down his body. Some of the bruises had yellowed and stood out starkly against the blue and purple. Raw rings circled each wrist. His knuckles were shredded like he’d been punching through walls.

I spotted two wooden buckets and a towel on either side of the stairs and ran over, hoping one was full of water. They both were, so I grabbed one then lugged it back to the pallet, setting it on the floor near Nikolos’s head. The towel looked and smelled clean and since there was no ladle in the water, I dipped in one end and squeezed it over his mouth. I had to do it twice, the second time holding down his chin so his mouth would stay open. He swallowed out of reflex but still didn’t open his eyes. Blood crusted the swollen eye, so after pouring a little more water down his throat, I dipped the whole towel into the liquid and started bathing his face gently. I loosened the blood and slicked his hair back with some of the water.

By the time his face was clean, tears tracked down my cheeks and they didn’t stop as I continued his sponge bath. He still wore the ratty jeans and I thought about removing them to make him clean all over, but there wasn’t that much water and I still had his back to do.

I didn’t want to roll him onto the dirt-and-stone floor to clean his back, so I looked down at the huge T-shirt I’d worn to bed—one of his—and shrugged before pulling it off. I spread it out before carefully rolling him onto his stomach. His back made me gasp.

Thin, red stripes crisscrossed the entire surface, some of the lines cutting deep into his flesh. I choked on a sob and wished I’d started with his back because the water was dirty now. Then I remembered the other bucket and got up to fetch it.

This time, I rolled him over and tried to pour some water into his mouth, but it came out too hard and fast, and though he compulsively swallowed a couple of times, I was afraid he’d choke. So I turned him to his stomach again and started with wringing water out of the towel over his skin, letting the liquid loosen up the crud that had been left to dry on him. Then I gently wiped around each cut, my anger growing so fast, so strong I didn’t know how I held it inside my body. My hands shook and tears dropped onto his back.

“I swear I’m coming for you. I’m close. Please, please hang on until I can get here.”

I wanted to put the shirt on him because putting his clean skin back on that pallet made my stomach clench into knots. But how would he explain the shirt? It would probably make things worse for him.

There was a little water left, so I stood and worked to get him back on the pallet, glad for my extra strength because he was a big man. His broad shoulders spanned the thin mattress and his feet hung off the end. It was still hard to move him. I maneuvered him onto his stomach. His back needed the air. Then, I sat by his head and poured water into his hair before running through it with my fingers. I did this over and over until most of the tangles had been removed. Some of them would probably never come out. He’d have to cut his hair.

He looked more peaceful when I was finished. I didn’t know if feeling clean made him rest better or just having water inside his body had helped. I didn’t care. I came back around, tucked his wet hair behind him and stared at the side of his face.

I must have sat there for hours and the whole time, I wondered if I could just stay—if I could pull off the ankhs and stay here to help fight and get him away from the monster who’d hurt him like this. Or was this really a detailed, cognizant dream that I would wake from no matter how much I wanted to be with him?

When his black lashes fluttered against his cheek, I leaned forward, held my breath. He moaned.

“I promise to come get you.”

Dark eyes flew open and he stared at me in shock before he tried to push himself up off the pallet. The look of pain that slashed across his features stabbed into me.

“No, don’t move. You have to let your back heal. Stay down. I washed you as best I could and I’ve been here awhile, but I’m sure it’s not for much longer.”

He settled back onto his stomach, his gaze dropping to my chest.

I’d forgotten to put my shirt back on. Knowing the blush would spread over my chest as well as my face, I didn’t grab the shirt or cover myself. He reached out, one hand softly touching my breast before his eyes closed. I pressed his hand to me before lifting it and kissing his scraped knuckles.

His eyes flew open. “Washed me? With what?”

“Please tell me your jailer will give you more drinking water. I squeezed a lot of water into your mouth, but you were so dirty and the wounds could get infected.”

“Washed me with what?” he repeated.

“There were buckets—” I broke off at the look of complete terror that filled his expression. “What?”

“Which one did you use?”

“Both! You were a mess.”

He shuddered, closed his eyes. “They were left there to taunt me. I refused to use them.”

“Is that why you were dirty and your lips were cracked?” The shaky alarm in his voice had everything in me freezing. “What was wrong with the water in the buckets, Nikolos?”

He only groaned and curled his hand into a fist before he forced himself to sit up. “I drank it? Did I swallow the water?”

His fear, so palpable, had my heart beating so hard I could hear its pounding in my ears. I nodded.

“Gods.” He closed his eyes and slumped forward, then grabbed me and pulled me into his lap. He was mumbling something under his breath over and over and even though I was close to him, I had to really listen to make sense of the words. “I won’t forget. I won’t forget.”

“You’re scaring me to death. What was wrong with the water in the buckets?”

He didn’t answer, merely wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. My breasts pressed into his chest.

I pushed back, hoping I didn’t hurt him, but I needed to see his face. “Please talk to me. Tell me why you didn’t want the water in the bucket.” I cupped his cheeks, stared into his eyes. “Please. Tell me.”

He shuddered and only clutched me closer before pulling back just enough to bring our lips together. His tongue swept into my mouth, the desperation in his movements feeding my fear even as the feel and the taste of him made me squirm as close as I could get. Calloused fingers clutched my back as his hips bucked against me.

I tasted blood, remembered his cracked lips and wrenched back, breathing heavily, feeling as if most of my body had turned into nothing but heat. His beautiful, nearly black eyes glittered at me, lids halfway down, his desire and need so raw it burned into me, branded me. I ran my hands over his wide, strong shoulders, feeling muscles that seemed even more honed than they had before.

His gaze dropped to my breasts as his hands moved around my sides to cup them.

I gasped and had to shut my eyes. His touch filled me with joy, but the intense emotion in his gaze overwhelmed me. So much. I felt so very much right then, I half expected to disappear.

The thought of disappearing made my eyes fly back open. We might not have much time. I pushed off his lap, stood and took my pants off. Nikolos started shaking his head, even as his gaze stroked my entire body, his lips opened wider as his breaths came faster.

I knew why he shook his head. We weren’t prepared for this, but in that moment I didn’t care. We were in the underworld, he could die at any moment and I could die trying to get to him. We were together on stolen time and this connection felt like the most important thing in the world. All of the worlds.

I knelt and reached for the top of his jeans.

“I don’t know about this, Beri,” he said, tone ragged, low.

“I do. I need you, Nikolos. I think you need me too.” I brushed my hand over his belly, unfastened his jeans and slid my hand inside.

He groaned, closed his eyes. “I do, but I don’t know how long I have.”

“Don’t you mean
we
have?”

This time, his gaze crawled with something that sent my fear back into overdrive.

“What?” I whispered.

Nikolos only shook his head, eyes stark with grief. Blatant, naked grief. He lifted and helped me tug down his pants, then just shook his head and pulled me onto his lap. He touched the slow-healing scar on my leg, then cupped my face. “Promise me you won’t come back here after this.”

“No. I won’t. I can’t.”

He growled and lifted my body up enough to slide into me. “Promise me,” he hissed through gnashed teeth.

I gasped at the feel of him inside me, not caring that the gritty dirt dug into my knees. Shaking, I sucked air deep into my lungs and wrapped my arms around his neck, careful to keep away from the wounds on his back. “I will not promise, so give it up,” I said into his ear. “You’re mine. They can’t have you.”

Before he could argue or growl at me again, I kissed him. He started to mutter something, but I only increased the pressure, slid my fingers into his wet hair and moved my body on his. When I pulled back for air, all he did was shudder, grip me tight and buck his hips harder. His eyes stared into mine, something savage moving in them as he let go and poured all his need into movement. I tightened my legs, touched his face, his lips as the heat built inside me. When I cried out, Nikolos moaned, gaze locked on my face, his fingers clenched in my hair.

“I love you,” he said against my lips. “I will always love you.”

I tightened my arms. “I love you too and one of these days, we’re going to do this when we aren’t covered in wounds.” I waited for his chuckle and when it didn’t come, I pulled back to find the grief had returned to his face. “Please don’t look at me like that,” I whispered, cupping his face, moving my body on his. I bit my lip, shook as emotion crowded in to battle with the desire still burning strong in me.

“You can’t come here again.” This time, his words rumbled in a half growl and his fingers tightened on my skin to the point of pain. The moan that came from his mouth in that moment was a mix of release, desperation and terror. “No!”

Alarmed, I leaned back, wincing as his hands dug into my spine. Then he shoved me off him. Hard. He stood and let out the most goddess-awful roar of rage. The noise filled the cell and crawled inside me. He picked up one of the buckets and threw it against the wall so hard it cracked into two pieces.

Sure the racket would attract attention, I swiped my pants and shirt off the floor and pulled them on. I wasn’t facing whatever came down those steps naked. Nikolos wasn’t done. He raged, storming across the cell to pick up the pieces of bucket and smash them against the stone again. His back seeped, blood trickling in thin rivulets to soak his jeans. He turned suddenly and the red filling his eyes sent me to the wall. He snarled and came toward me with slow, deliberate steps.

Before he was within reaching distance, I ducked and moved along the wall to the other side of the room. He swung his head around. I saw narrowed eyes that no longer looked like his own. The color was just gone, overcome completely by the red. He came at me again, moving fast, slamming me against the wall before I could sidle away this time.

The back of my head hit stone hard and I shut my eyes to combat the instant dizziness. Stars winked behind my lids. I gasped and felt the trickle of warm blood soaking into my hair. “Nikolos,” I whispered, focusing on him, looking for some kind of recognition in his face.

He picked me up and slammed me into the wall again before pressing his body hard against mine.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my mouth to his ear. “Stop it. Feel me, know me. This is me, Beri, loving you.”

He wedged between my legs, cupped my crotch and then growled in frustration. He pulled back enough to tug at my pants.

“Oh no,” I breathed and shoved him. Hard. He stumbled back, but came at me again. I put both hands on his chest and pushed with all my strength. This time, he didn’t run at me, just stood, breathing hard and staring.