Page 81 of The Salvation

"I'm quite fond of screams."

MERIKH/MALACHOR

A fragmented wallof blood is all that separates me from escaping the dark corner of my mind.

It’s all I can do to hold onto a mere shred of existence—bound only by her half-soul...for however long Malachor keeps her breathing, her heart beating.

It’s like watching my life from the fucking nosebleed section of the Court.Hislife now.Hisbody.Hisblood.Hissoul.

The damnable demon’s consciousness stalks me beyond that wall of blood, pacing like a predator. I can see his dark outline, hear his sick, sadistic breath as he longs to battle me, torture me even in the depths of my own fucking mind.

As much as I fantasized about fucking you to death, Merikh, I must say...thisis more satisfying.

I stare down my old foe from beyond that ever-moving curtain of blood.I assure you, Malachor, it was more satisfying to replay the moment I cut out your heart with my claws and ate it while it still beat upon my tongue.

He hisses.

Oh, my,I taunt him, knowing I will undoubtedly do more harm than good, knowing how every word could be another nail in the coffin of my little dove. But if it grants her more diversion, I’ll do it.Did I open an old wound, myLord?

Rest assured, I will open more wounds tonight, Merikh. I wrote my name and my blood into every one of your scars. And tonight, I will do the same toher.

All I can do is growl. There’s no point in trying to bluff. His soul is in me—infesting every fiber and thread of my being, from my heart to my mind. He has all my memories, my innermost secrets.

And then, I’ll track down the feathery fucking fool that started all of this and make him my pretty squealing pet.

I throw my head back and laugh.Good luck catching him!

I’ll enjoy catchinghermore. I suppose it will be much more fun to watch her run. And it seems I’m feeling like my old generous self. I’ll give you a prime seat, Merikh. How sweet is revenge indeed...especially whensheshall takeyourplace as my prizedpet.

Everything in me wants to roar, but I hold myself back. Bide my time. Save my strength. I’ll need it because I’ll be damned if I don’t give her anything I have left.

The sick bastard does give me a prime seat. He opens up a goddamned window. And forces me to feed upon his essence as he targets the woman I love...

MALACHOR

She trembles so beautifully.

And I am eager for some time alone with her. So, I dismiss Reaver, miserable worm that he is, along with all others in the Court who have not joined the hunt for the child. A futile chase since the only one who can stand against those sycophantic, fawning fools is me.

Reaver doesn’t have long to live in my world. But she will. Oh, yes, a long and miserable life. Perhaps, an eternal one.

“Your fear is quite delicious, little girl with your pretty scars,” I coo and skate my nose along the side of her neck, scenting her and listening to the blood thrumming in her, throbbing her lovely jugular. She swallows hard beneath my hand. “Are you aware of what a tremendous honor it will be foryouonce I remake those scars and scrawl my name and crest into your pretty flesh?”

She seethes, her spirit flaring. “Are you aware of what a tremendous, gargantuan dick you are?”

I snicker and open my lips to test her spirit with a delicate scrape of my fangs along her throat. And a prick. She winces, but the scarred little queen doesn’t flinch. “Yes, I have heard that. Most often when my pets or toys were screaming, in both pain and pleasure. I’m quite fond of screams.”

“Hope you go deaf from mine,” she spits out.

I tip my head back with a chuckle. “My, my, Merikh, I’d say however did you find this one, but we know very well she found you. Didn’t you, little one?”

A sweet gasp leaves her throat. Oh, that blood!

Well, now, Merikh, I leer at him from behind the window.Fuck her fear and anger. Her blood, on love and hope, is the most divine drug. Like the blackest opium, if I recall. Yes, your unholy grail of blackest opium and your blood moon on a starless night.

I savor his growl along with the emotion in her spirit—emotion quite simple to access, given how Merikh consumed her blood from the chalice.

“I must say, they didn’t do you justice, Quintessa,” I tell her while combing my fingers through her ghostly silver hair, fingering the ends. She wisely does not move while I poise my hand upon her throat as I pet her. My fresh little prize. My toy. My pet.

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