Page 47 of Marked By the Dark Lord
“K—Rokk!” I hissed. “Put me down. Now.”
“Kiss me first,” he growled.
“If I do that, will you put me down?”
“Maybe,” he said before torching my lips with his.
Almost—but not quite—against my will, my head tilted back to make it easier, both my hands looping around his neck, fingers threading through his thick hair as my body responded to his kiss, despite the fear pounding in my chest.
And damn it, my leg popped!
A smile creased my lips as we parted for air, then found one another’s mouths again. I was making out with a monster. And I enjoyed it!
I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being with a monster.
Just what did that say about me?
“Put me down, please,” I said, suddenly feeling cold on the inside, unwanted memories boiling up out of nowhere. “Now.”
“Mila?” he asked, concerned, though he returned me to my feet anyway.
“I need to go. Take me home. Now.”
Korr’ok started to protest, then thought better of it.
“Very well,” he said coldly, leading the way from the restaurant without another word.
I followed in his wake, lost in my thoughts.
Am I a monster, too?
Interlude
Irrt’ok
The air grew thick and red, coiling in upon itself as light flickered off the thick stone walls of the dark room, the rock damp from the moisture so far underground. The boiling red maelstrom of cloud grew denser, generating more light with each tightening of the swirl.
There was a tearing sound, and then reality split open as something came tumbling through to land on the floor in a heap. The gash in the air closed while the red smoke curled down, binding itself to both wrists of the body lying on the damp floor, gasping for air.
“Damn him,” Irrt’ok hissed, shaking his head, feeling the sting of the bonds, realizing what it meant.
Korr’ok couldn’t kill him. Not in the mortal realm.
“Ten fucking years stuck here,” Irrt’ok growled, getting to his feet. “Great. Just great.”
“I take it your return wasn’t as enjoyable as your unexpected trip?” a figure asked, detaching itself from the shadows in one corner.
“No, my liege,” Irrt’ok ground out unhappily, dropping to one knee. “They seldom are when the journey is made against your own desire.”
“So, you let yourself get killed,” the figure chuckled, shaking its head and heading for the door. “Come.”
Irrt’ok rose, falling in step behind the figure, who towered above him, a pair of horns jutting from under his hair, the tips filed to a razor point. The click of shoes on stone sounded with each step his liege took.
“Who summoned you?”
“A nobody,” Irrt’ok said, expressing his surprise. “I’ve never seen her before. I did, however, recognize the touch of her magic.”
“Yet she managed to trap you?”
