Page 101 of Healer to the Ash King
Then, looking into his glowing eyes, I say, “Yes.”
And I mean it with all my heart.
Perish lunges for my mouth, bears me backward onto the bed under an avalanche of his kisses. And for a while there is nothing but his lips, his breath, the tantalizing brush of his skin against mine. The space between us is a haze of golden happiness, blurred by desire.
He’s fumbling with my clothes again, but his fingers are trembling. “Fuck. What have you done to me?” A shaky laugh. “I am never overwhelmed like this, except by my own magic.”
Grinning, I wriggle out from under him. “I’ll do it.” I remove all my clothes, slowly, while he watches from the bed. His cheeks are flushed, and there’s a warning glow in his throat.
“Do you need water from me?” I ask.
He closes his eyes and takes a moment to focus, and the fire dims again. “I think I’m all right.”
“Just to be sure…” I guide water into a mug for him, and he rises to take it. “Oh, and I nearly forgot. This lip stain is supposed to enhance pleasure. You spread it on your mouth and then kiss anywhere, and it tingles. I’m told it’s a delightful sensation.”
“Is that so?” He finishes the water and shucks off his pants. “Let’s give it a try, then.”
I don’t tell him where the cosmetic came from, because I feel slightly guilty about using it, especially since Khloe will not be joining us in a triad marriage. But itwasa gift, and truthfully I’m eager to experience the heightened sensations Khloe promised.
After removing the lid, I spread a bit of the creamy, rosy stain across my lips and then drop to my knees. I kiss the head of Perish’s cock before taking it in my mouth.
“Oh gods.” He shudders, sinking his fingers into my hair. “It’s tingling, like you said. It feels wonderful. Give me some. You need to feel this.”
I pull my mouth off him, rise, and hold out the little pot. He dips a finger in and daubs his lips liberally. Then, with a lecherous glance at me, he swipes a generous dollop onto his tongue. I turn hot all over, anticipating where his tongue might be headed.
He ducks to kiss my nipples, and immediately I feel the cream activating, tingling through my skin.
“Oh,” I breathe. “That is amazing.”
The Ash King suckles my right breast gently, then trails kisses down my belly. His pale hair is a silken curtain against my skin. He’s leaning against me—sliding downward—but he’s not kissing or licking me anymore.
He’s collapsing.
Something is wrong.
36
Perish slumps to the floor, on his side, with his white hair spilled around him. Breath wheezes faintly through his lungs.
My own throat is swelling, tightening—it feels as if someone’s huge hand has grasped my neck and they’re compressing, intent on choking me to death. My lips are burning, burning as the cosmetic soaks through the thin skin.
Poison.
My heart pounds slow, huge, and heavy—so sickeningly, frighteningly heavy. Slower. Slower.
My muscles are giving out, legs wobbling, weakening. I’m sinking onto the rug at Perish’s side. Foggily I search for my healing magic, but it can’t help—not against poison.
“Burn—it—out,” I wheeze, but Perish is unconscious. He can’t hear me—he ingested more of the lip stain than I did—actually put it in his mouth—oh gods…
The poison is working deeper—I can feel it seeping into my bloodstream, corrupting the particles of my blood one at a time.
My healing magic cannot help us. But maybe my Rotter magic can.
I drag another breath through my failing lungs, and I focus every bit of my consciousness on the poisoned particles in my blood, the ones that are signaling my body to shut down. I send the black corrosive tendrils of my alternate magic to attack those cells—there are many of them, and they’re multiplying fast.
Destroy destroy destroy—I corrode each poisoned cell, exploding them into nothing, into harmless motes floating through my veins—but that leaves me without the blood volume my body needs. My heart flutters and falters, a terrifying sensation, and strange sparks dance before my eyes.
I have only moments before I pass out, and we both die.
