Page 33 of The Devil In Blue
Many men had stared at my lips. Usually, because they wanted to use them or they were afraid of the teeth behind them. But the way Rune looked at my mouth made a fire within lick across my cheeks. His fingers kneaded into my hip, pulling me forward until our bodies were touching and I could feel the rapid, storming sound of his heartbeat filling the space around us.
“I put you here,” he whispered. “Against this column. On the hottest day. You winced then as you did just now, but by the gods, all it did was feed that passion.” He pushed me back again, closing his eyes and speaking against the side of my forehead. “You smiled so wickedly and then you kissed me, hard and deep, and youbeggedme to fuck you.”
I should not have closed my eyes, but I did. I could see it. Not because I remembered, but because of the way he spoke and the things he said, they built the moment in my mind as well as any memory would have. My heart was racing. My skin was hot and begging for relief. My ears were ringing and my cheeks were aflame. I didn’t even know that I’d moved my hands until I felt the fabric of Rune’s tunic in my fists. I wasn’t pushing him away, though. I was pulling him closer.
“I took you by your thighs,” he said, his hand sinking lower until he was cupping my backside. “And I wrapped your legs around me.” His other hand suddenly took a handful of my hair and tugged my head back. His mouth hovered so close to mine and the way I was craning back to look at him sent a shock of pain through my shoulders. Panic teased my senses, but it wasn’t the panic I was used to. It was panic over something I feared I wouldn’t get. Something I needed. “And I fucked you for hours until your screams had torn your throat raw.”
My eyes had been dry, but suddenly they stung with tears. The way he looked down at me, pinned and at his mercy, was so predatory. So feral. So filled with want.
The threat of men forcing themselves on me had never occurred. Southminster was filled with sisters and Father Eli and he never touched me like that. Never expressed the desire. Even Lucien had never forced me. I’d always complied out of gratitude and obligation. He saved me. I was his. I owed him.
This was different. Rune was strong. Otherworldly. The way he was holding me and trapping me there against him made me feel like I was being pierced by hooked chains from all directions.
Those stinging tears left my eyes and I felt the heat of them glide down my cheeks. I was looking at him, but I was seeing past him. I was staring far beyond his blue eyes and gazing into the void where something was waiting to eat me. Where some giant beast was hungering to finally get me and tear me apart. Father Eli kept me from that beast. Then Lucien took on that role.
He will look for you.
He will find you.
He will destroy you.
My madness was the beast. My destruction. The thing they’d all tried to protect me from.
Runewas the beast.Hewas the demon in the dark. My madness.
Upon seeing my tears, all of Rune’s aggression was leached away. The harshness in his face softened and he shook his head, slowly releasing me and stepping back. I regarded him with a version of fear I didn’t understand. One I hadn’t felt in ages.
It was the way I used to look at myself in the mirror.
He could absolutely destroy me and there was a large part of me that wanted to let him. I could see him ripping out my heart and soul because I was completely at his mercy.
Being at my own mercy had never served me well.
Rune took a few slow steps backward, recollecting himself. The further he moved from me, the more confused I felt. I didn’t know if I wanted him closer or if I never wanted to see him again. What he made me feel certainly left a mark and I didn’t even truly know what it was.
“Passion like that is hard to forget, Briar,” he whispered softly, taking a deep breath.
He folded his wings once he was nearly halfway across the room and then turned, marching out the door and leaving me there alone against that golden pillar.
It took me a few breaths to come to my senses again. I was shaking. My whole body felt cold, and not because the room was chilly. The room was quite warm, but something had sucked the heat from my skin. I took a slow step away from the pillar and reached around to the sore spot on my lower back where I’d hit something. Turning, I saw a small, oval handle of some kind engraved with a sun, its rays stretched on two sides.
The handle was the same size. The same shape. The image matched. My heart stopped because it wasn’t possible.
I reached out and touched the handle again, hand trembling. It fit perfectly in my palm and as I pulled it, small portions of the pillar flipped open and the light from the globe flooded through, sending shadows in the shapes of elaborate designs across the slick floor. It was beautiful… but it wasn’t why I was standing there in shock and puzzlement.
That handle was the very image branded on the back of my hip.
Impossible.
My sanity was such a fragile thing, constantly fighting against a hundred fissures that had been growing bigger over the years. I feared I was about to fall through into whatever hell lay below the breaking glass I was standing on.
So I ran.
I sprinted through the palace, up the steps, and into my room. I closed the door quietly, in the habit of not making noise and attracting attention to myself lest someone throw me into a straitjacket or a dark room. Then I fell onto the bed and pulled the blankets over me, staring up at the canopy.
I knew what it felt like to let my nerves win. To let my mind take me places outside of reality. It was sheer panic. I hated it. I would have rather met the void and that silent, eternal darkness I believed waited for me on the other side, but what I wanted and what I got had never lined up. I hadn’t blinked in what felt like hours until the panic started to pass. My heart was pounding painfully against my ribs, filling my ears with ceaseless noise. My tears had dried up and my fingers and toes had become ice cold.
It will pass,Sister Harriot always said.
