Page 211 of Anathema

“I’ve been forced to consume mortal flesh to keep my strength.” He tipped his head to the side, presumably toward Maevyth. “It seems you’ve also consumed your share of flesh.” Even in thoughts, his voice held amusement, and his attention on Maevyth stoked a dark ire in Zevander.

In as subtle a movement as he could muster, Zevander forced his shield to block his mind, as he recalled his blades sat out on the table beside him.

“It’s futile. I cursed you, and therefore, you cannot hide your thoughts from me.” Those black, beady eyes tracked to the left, toward the table. “Not even your longing to kill me. And what for, really? I’ve no inclination to kill you.”

“Then, why are you here?”

“To propose a bargain of sorts. As the Black Pestilence spreads, my power grows. Give me your loyalty, your fealty, and you will rule Mortasia alongside me.”

Zevander sneered. “And become one of your faceless creatures. Your grotesque mutilations?”

Lips gnarled, he hissed, as though offended. “They are the ones who refused fealty to me. Who chose their pride above all else.”

“I’ve already sworn fealty.”

“Your king has already betrayed you. In fact, if he knew you were here now, he’d have you locked away in his dungeons for regicide.”

Regicide?

“You’re aware that if Prince Dorjan dies, a black plague will be unleashed, and all of Aethyria will be at my mercy. But the prince and I are also linked by blood magic,” he went on. “Should I die, he will surely die, also.”

Zevander’s blood iced. It was then he realized why Sagaerin had chosen to banish Cadavros instead of killing him. Why he’d forbade anyone crossing the Umbravale. His son’s life had been soulbound. Not only to the amulet, but to Cadavros himself.

“Or you can join me. At my side, you’ll have more power than you imagined. Everything you desire most.”

Zevander snarled. “I desire nothing from you.”

“Don’t you?”

An unbidden image glimmered in his head. Maevyth’s naked form on top of him, her head tipped back in ecstasy.

Waves of pleasure pulsed through him, his body hardening.

Out of his control.

“Imagine you could have her freely. Without those meddling memories clouding your mind.” Cadavros continued to taunt. “Imagine you could have her, take her, as you’ve dreamed. Imagine her touch without the pain.”

Zevander clamped his eyes to banish the thought, but it rooted itself in his mind so deeply, he could feel his engorged cock buried inside of her then, every metal rung sliding in and out of her. The rapacity burning in his muscles as he plundered her tight little body. When he opened his eyes, she was there, her bare, wet flesh slickening his skin as she ground her hips against his stomach.

Fuck.

He took hold of her hips, guiding her lower, desperate to sink into that tight warmth, the swollen, weeping entrance which begged to be filled. A ravenous hunger hooked itself in his bones, thinning his restraint. Gods, he wanted her more than his next breath.

Waves of black curls spilled over her slender shoulders, her pouty lips parted around shallow flutters of breath as she closed her eyes, smearing her arousal over him. Stirring his predatory instincts like blood in shark-infested waters. Sharp nails scored his chest, as she circled her hips against his groin and let out a dulcet little moan so fucking pleasing to his ears, he wanted to swallow it. The heady scent of sex in the air watered his tongue.

He reached out for her breasts, ignoring the niggling thought in his mind, the warning that told him something about this wasn’t right. His hands longed to touch her skin, and he took hold of her flesh, lifting his head to suck at her nipple. Feral hunger writhed inside of him. He wanted more. All of her.

A carnal madness burned hot in his veins, and on a growl, he bit down into the softness of her breast. She let out a yelp, and Zevander cuffed her throat to silence her, gripping tight and marveling at the way her pulse hammered against his palm. Her life in his hand. At his mercy. Teeth clenched, he dug his fingers into her hips, forcing them to move faster. Harder.

The pleasure in her eyes darkened to fear and she clawed at his hand still cuffing her throat, releasing a raspy choke of air.

He gripped tighter. Tighter.

“Kill her,” the voice commanded.

“No!” Zevander snarled, willing his hand away from her throat, but it wouldn’t move.

“Zevander!” Maevyth’s screams echoed in his head. “Zevander!”