Page 108 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
I did as they asked, reaching into the thick coat, finding a vial inside the pocket. I pulled it free to see it filled with a dark thick liquid. Not needing to open it to know it was blood.
Voyavs were devourers of blood. A weaver of ancient magic that not even the earth wished to keep beneath its confines. Too chaotic for even the Old Gods to master.
Thean then washed the skin of my thigh. Removing the blood and dirt around the wound before they took the vial from me, taking the barest of drops on their tongue before corking it again. A shudder rippled through them before that sharp focus dropped to my thigh once more.
An amber light shimmered against their palm, just as it would a flesh healer’s as they pressed it against my wound.A stinging warmth made me gasp, wanting to pull my leg away out of reflex but there was no mistaking the strength in Thean’s grip. Then, as quickly as it arrived, the pain was gone – just as that light flickered out beneath their skin.
Healed. Or almost healed. The skin was still angry and tender beneath my probing fingers that they gently batted away. Then the voyav moved back to the healing kit and pulled out a jar of balm. Their clever, strong fingers working it into my aching muscle with such authority it took everything not to slip into a puddle. Relaxing under their ministrations.
‘What’s in the left pocket?’ I asked to keep hold of some of my sanity. Feeling the weight of the coat I wore, the secrets it could hide. The intoxicating scent of them. I wished I had my magic back for it to be stronger.
‘None of your business, little nightmare.’ Their grin was small with amusement as they glanced up at me. The sight of them before me, knelt like some repenting worshipper, did strange things to my insides.
Maybe it was nausea from the shock. There was no time to contemplate as they leant closer, their thumb brushing my cheek, just around where it throbbed – cautious of my wince. My fingers curled around their wrist out of instinct. Only to see they were still slightly clawed. A monstrosity.
I tried to wrench my hand back. Shame turning my stomach at the hideousness of it. Of me.
Only they didn’t let me go. Didn’t let me hide, their fingers slipping easily between mine. They curled my clawed hand around their own. Those amber eyes solely fixed on me in a silent reassurance. It was the kindest act they could have given in that moment. Not the gentle nature of their touch, but that look in their eyes. As if speaking directly to that fear burrowed between my ribs. As if they could understandshame as I did. Knew the horrid weight of it and still – they were here.
They gently slipped two fingers beneath my chin, turning my face to see the aching side. The barest heat from their fingertips, the remnants of that magic they’d stolen from that vial of blood as the ache went away. Healed.
They didn’t let me go. Watched me closely, perhaps so I wouldn’t hide within the corners of my own mind. They cared, even if they wished they didn’t, and I understoodthat, if nothing else. Confused how their presence sent my beasts rolling beneath my skin. Hot and needy. Wishing to perform for the dangerous creature before me more than they’d wanted to perform for anyone else.
The depth of it startled me, too many rushing emotions that I was left alone to face without my defences. The stench of that dank wood clinging to me. That blood. That hunter’s blood, the cruelty of his touch still on my skin.
‘I need a bath.’ I stood, our hands slipping apart as I used the back of the chaise to support my unsteady legs. Not missing how the voyav’s hands flexed as if resisting the urge to help.
‘I wouldn’t soak your wounds until the balm has been given enough time to work.’
‘I don’t want him on me.’ The words were too sharp with my panic. Childish, as I curled my shoulders inwards. Bile rising in my throat at the stickiness between my fingers. The phantom feel of his hands across my flesh.
Thean strode past me, to the door that led to another room. Only to realise it led to my room. Or what had been Kat’s room before the house had moved her to Emrys’s. They needed no instruction, as if they’d been here before and that thought made me flush. They opened the bathroom door and turned the taps of the bath, bending in to fit theplug. Pulling back to fold their arms and glare down at the water as if watching it would make the tub fill quicker.
‘What are you doing?’ I frowned, shocked by such mortal movements coming from them.
‘You don’t want them on you,’ Thean replied effortlessly, no annoyance or hesitation in the words.
‘The balm—’
‘I’ll do it again,’ they offered softly. But there was an anger in the tension of their jaw. One I thought was aimed at me, but their gaze was looking at my calves. Where they’d cut deeper than everywhere else. Across the curve of my foot, right to my toes.
Nobody who’d seen them before had seemed to care. Not the men my Keeper brought with their wandering hands. Or even Daunton in the end.
I was nothing but something to be used. Used so much I ceased to exist. Every flinch or tear became invisible. For I had been nothing but a thing, and only what they could take had value.
Then I understood Thean’s fury – why it was so familiar to me. It was the same feral sharpness I’d seen in Kat’s eyes when she looked upon those marks – when she’d seen them the first time in Daunton. Still weeping and scabbed.
Only, if Thean had changed me after I’d become the ravhorn, they would have already seen them. Unless …
‘You really didn’t look,’ I whispered, unsure why that truth settled so warmly inside of me. Why it made my eyes sting with tears.
‘You didn’t give me permission to,’ Thean answered.
The simplicity of those words stunned me, shamed me too. What I’d become, to forget my voice and my choices mattered. The space between us seemed too cavernous, filled with this strange game. With secrets and unspoken things – yet, there wassomething I wanted to say. Wanted to free from the confines of my chest, wanted someone to hear, even if they forgot it eventually.
Even if they forgot me.
‘Sometimes they cut away so much I wondered if there would be anything left.’ I’d worried how much they could take, worried when they’d find nothing of value left. Wondering what they’d do with me then.
