Page 85 of The Salvation

As he lifts the white fabric toward me, my breath hitches, lost somewhere in my throat.

“I see you left a little something behind. How fortuitous...” he croons while draping the dress across the coffin next to me.

When he lights his fingers on the straps of my dirty slip, it’s the first time I cringe and look away. My fingers twitch upon theknife handle. But any fantasies about plunging it into any of his body parts die the moment I meet his eyes, familiar black orbs gazing back at me.

“Your slip is quite spoiled, little dove. Trust me when I say I have no intention of taking you tonight like a ruffian god with a common whore.”

What the hell is he doing? I try to pour iron into my chest, building a fortress around my heart. But it crumbles the moment he slides the straps down my shoulders while my blood surges with molten desire...from his power. I battle the whimper in my throat as his palms skate across my nipples while he eases the slip off of me. I hug my arms a second later, crossing them over my chest to cover myself.

Not that it will matter. Nothing will matter. It’s why I didn’t bother to struggle. I still don’t.

The knife lays vertically, draped between my cleavage, and I’d be lying if I wasn’t tempted to stab myself.

Hate and love in equal amounts are the only emotions keeping me tethered here. Hate for Malachor. Love for Merikh. I wish I could simply float away, but Malachor doesn’t let me. He pulls my arms from my body before pinning my wrists to my lap and leans in to kiss me, opening my mouth with a ruthless determination. I clench my thighs, warring against the sensations as he slows and heats my blood, pooling it to my core. I gasp at the first touch of his palms to my breasts.

“Ahh, yes,” he simpers against my lips, forcing me to feel his breath while acknowledging how mine has quickened. “He enjoyed these supremely, didn’t he?”

I shut my eyes hard as he kneads my breasts and thumbs my erect nipples, raising the blood to the surface to harden them more. My center grows wetter, coating my white panties in my fluids.

“With these hands,” he says, voice deepening.

I know I could pretend it all away, make believe it’s Merikh. But it would be a lie. It would betray him. Maybe I’m just delaying the inevitable, but I’ll do it for as long as possible. And hope my monstrous boys can help me escape without one of them getting hurt.

“I much preferred this instrument.” He takes a moment to twist the knife from my grasp and lifts the blade. I hiss when the cold metallic tip meets one peaked nipple. I’d be a fool to deny the fear, the terror freezing every nerve in my body.

After circling the dagger tip around each of my hard buds, indulging, Malachor tugs the old dress over my head with one hand, securing it around me. I part my lips in surprise. My jaw nearly drops when he places the dagger back in my hand. Like kicking a bitch when she’s down. But it feels more like he’s stabbed me.

Malachor smirks at me, chuckling darkly before nudging his fist beneath my chin, tilting it to arch my neck. “Don’t be so shocked, little dove. We both know I can take you at any time. I can make you enjoy it, stir your blood with so much pleasure, you’ll beg for me, gag for me. But now that I’ve returned to take back my Court, I fully intend to make you my newest masterpiece.”

“Too late,” I mutter. “I already did that with my scars and tattoos.” I burn my eyes against his, wishing I wasn’t gazing into the lustrous black orbs I know. The silent, deadly seduction of his mouth. His carnal masculinity and dark energy.

He smiles with a shake of his head before kissing my neck. “I will enjoy your blood more tonight, Quintessa. It is the perfect beginning to bind you to me. Later, I will take control of the blood cells here...”

“Mmm...” I slam my eyes shut as he cups my breast, thumbing Merikh’s Blood Crest mark upon the swell.

“And transform them into my symbol. It won’t be long before you truly desire and treasure me on a level beneath the blood. Look at me.” He cups my right cheek, summoning me, and I swallow a hard knot and open my eyes. “I will wager your heart and soul will long for mine by the month’s end.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“I’ll take yours instead.”

He bares his fangs. Studies my throat. I take such a deep breath, I grow dizzy, afraid I’ll pass out. Terror shoots up my spine at the thought of him biting me. The dagger has become an anchor, and I rub my thumb across the hilt to center me.

Holding my breath, I wait for the bite to come.

Wind whips across both of us. One second later, a hard body slams against Malachor.

“Go!” the unfamiliar figure yells at me from where he’s pinned Malachor against the other side of the crypt. I widen my eyes, my body already scrambling to the door.

Hurling myself against the latch, I open it and plunge into the raw, stagnant air of the night marsh cemetery—with the knife still in my hand.

31

" I'll look forward to hunting her presently."

MALACHOR/MERIKH

“Well, well...”I chuckle, cocking my head as I take stock of the new figure.

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