Page 71 of Jailer to the Death God
Slowly I shift my upper body forward while tilting my hips back. The head of Arawn’s cock begins to nudge between the lips of my sex.
His hand splays over my hip, pulling me onto him. Slowly, silently he fucks me, while his hand slides down my thigh and up again in a long caress. Then his fingers plunge into the crevice between my legs, searching out my clit and manipulating it gently.
We don’t speak, probably because he regrets what he said to me earlier. But he obviously enjoys how I feel in his hands, on his cock. And like him, that’s all I need for tonight—pleasure to ease the heaviness in my heart.
I place my hand over his and guide the movements of his fingers until I come gradually, perfectly, a widening circle of euphoria rippling through my limbs. Arawn comes a few moments later, his length flexing inside me, flooding my channel with delicious warmth.
He stays inside me, his hand wrapped between my legs. We fall asleep like that.
But when we wake, we are apart, each on a different side of the bed, with oceans of sheets between us.
Leaving the inn the next morning feels like a much-needed fresh start.
Along with our scanty luggage, my guards brought the damaged carriage with them when they left the scene of the attack last night. Though it’s missing a door and one wheel is a little bent, it will do until we reach the next town. Besides, with the door gone, Arawn and I won’t be tempted to engage in any illicit activities during our journey.
Arawn tried to mount a horse this morning, but the poor animal went positively wild at his approach and would have nothing to do with him. So the death god is riding with me again. We’re bundled up against the bright teeth of the cold day, and when I finally speak to him, my voice is somewhat muffled by my scarf. He doesn’t hear me at first, and I have to repeat the question.
“That green light you used on your hounds—what was it?”
“Life-light,” he replies. “Since my hounds are creatures of the Unlife, they’re immune to some of my darker powers. The sleep of death does not affect them, and for my shadows to overwhelm them I must exert great force, with physical contact. But life-light is the antithesis of death, and as such is a poison to their very existence. Even a small dose can bring about a hound’s eventual death.”
“But why do you have that magic?” I frown. “It seems contrary to who you are.”
“Each deity is gifted with several abilities that correspond to their role in the universe, and one ability that contradicts it all. We call it our antimagic. I am the god of death, and my antimagic is life-light, which promotes growth, specifically among plants. My sister Macha is the goddess of war, and her antimagic is healing.”
My jaw drops. “Macha can heal?”
“Indeed. Though to my knowledge she has never used the ability unless it was to raise up some warmongering general or bloodthirsty king she could use to foment greater destruction.”
“And she wants you dead.”
“Yes, and no. She wants control over Annwn. Because she is ‘bored.’ And she has ‘plans’ to make it more interesting. I can’t say for certain what those plans are, nor do I wish to envision them.”
“We definitely can’t have you dying, then,” I say firmly. “I don’t want some war-happy, bloodthirsty goddess in charge of the realm where my loved ones reside.”
Arawn glances at me, his face shadowed with dark emotion again. “My death is not the only way she can achieve her goals.”
“What’s the other way?”
His full lips pinch together, and he stares out the open side of the carriage at the snowy landscape.
“Tell me,” I murmur, reaching out to lay my gloved hand over his. “Maybe I can help.”
He recoils as if my fingers are tiny venomous snakes. “You can’t help. You will only make it worse.”
“Very well.” I sit back, a little stung by his harsh tone.
After a moment of grim silence he says, low, “There can be no more of that between us.”
“No more of what?” I say tightly.
“You know what. From now on, if I want such things, I will turn elsewhere. And you will not touch me again, unless it is absolutely necessary.”
My heart is sinking, plunging into cold, dark depths, layers of thick, black ice forming over it.
I thought we were—I thought things had changed between us, that they’d grown more exciting, scarcely believable, deliciously sensual, softly intimate.
But apparently yesterday was enough for him.
