Page 3 of Consume Me
My loneliness echoes in the silence around me, and not for the first time, I feel the devastation of being so completely and utterly alone in the world.
Eventually, I drag myself up off the floor and walk past the bed into the bathroom. The daggers remain silent on my pillow, but I don’t touch them. Nor do Ibother cleaning up the dirt they scattered over my pillow. Not yet. I’ll deal with it later.
For now, I focus on not losing myself to the emptiness.
Chapter 2
Noctan
The rune inked on my forearm hasn’t burned like this in nearly half a century. It started two months ago as nothing more than a flicker. A phantom pulse beneath my skin, nudging me toward my quarry. In the fae realm, I could almost forget it was even there. But now that I’ve followed it into the Earth realm, the flicker has become a constant pain. No, more than pain.
It’s a dark heartbeat.
A tether pulling taut.
A summons.
Which is why I’m standing in front of a woman I swore I’d never ask for a favor again. To end this quest for vengeance once and for all.
Vaelora looks the same as when I left her court centuries ago: nails painted the color of blood, dark curls swept up to reveal pointed ears, silver gaze honed like a blade. Only, now, she smells like power.
And secrets.
I’m not surprised about the latter; she’s made it her business to collect everyone else’s, as if doing so will somehow distract her from her own. Now, her sharp eyes are drawn to the glowing rune etched onto my skin by magic so potent, no force in this world or any other can remove it. Not until my vow is fulfilled.
“It’s the daggers,” she says knowingly. “They call to you at last.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. The rune flares white-hot at her words. As if the symbol itself is sentient. Maybe it is. I’ve often wondered about it myself.
“What do you know about them?” I ask as rage surges in my veins.
Sometimes the force of it surprises me. My thirst for vengeance has not dimmed, even after four centuries. If anything, it has grown more consuming over the years. More potent. I wonder if I’ll be so empty once it’s finished that I’ll simply cease to exist.
“Why do you think I know anything?” Vaelora asks, but her feigned innocence drags a growl from me.
“You’ve made this territory your home. And we both know you don’t settle in a place without learning everything about its inhabitants first.”
Her eyes glimmer like I’ve complimented her somehow.
“Fair enough. As you say, I know more about the daggers’ servant than I do the objects themselves,” she says coyly.
But I refuse to fall for her tricks. I care nothing for the evil creature who has taken up the blades’ dark dealings. After centuries of hunting their various lackeys, I knowall I need to: Some poor, miserable soul has once again succumbed to the power the daggers possess and probably thinks they can somehow wield that power for themselves.
Soon enough, they’ll realize that power flows one way only.
Until that thirst for power eventually gets them killed and then the daggers move on to another fool.
“The Whispering Daggers are much more than mere objects,” I warn. “You’d do well to remember just what they’re capable of. Their power could end even you.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly aware of their true power, darling. But, this time, I think you’ll find it’s not what you think.” Her wink boils my blood. Of course she’s not taking any of this seriously.
“I don’t have time for games,” I snap.
Coming here was a waste of time.
I turn for the door.
“What if I could guarantee to put you in the same room as the daggers and the one who wields them?”
