Page 34 of Death God

Some privacy, guys, I said. Could you perch somewhere else while I bathe?

We weren’t able to leave the black garden before you linked us to you. You’re our anchor. While we can’t stay far away from you, we can roam the grounds of this wing and be your sentinels.

But when we stay close to Pip, we’re more protected and stronger, a shifter’s spirit whined. Shifters were clingy types.

Make us useful, the lead spirit said. I’d learned his name, Mage Whitesong.

The spirits divided into four groups. Team One guarded the outer room while the other three teams flew through the windows and walls that faced the courtyard and vanished in a mist.

I picked up my backpack that I’d put in the closet earlier and jogged toward the bathroom. With the spirits guarding me, for the first time since I’d been inside the horseman’s camp, I felt like my chest was less tight and I could finally breathe a little.

I closed the door to the bathroom, turned on the water, and stepped into the bathtub. Then I just sat under the showerhead, my knees pulled up against my chest, my arms hugging my legs, as I let the cold water pelt down on my head, my hair sticking to my face. I felt like crying, but I wouldn’t allow myself to shed a tear in enemy territory.

I’d never felt so alone. I’d once felt very alone after I’d escaped the hunters in the dark woods, leapt into the waterfall, then crawled into a bush to hide and cried myself to sleep. At that time, I hadn’t had anyone. But this time, it was different. I’d finally reunited with my mate who had searched for me for a century, only to be torn from him. What if we never saw each other again?

He wouldn’t find me. No one could find me now. I’d have to get out all by myself and bring my mate’s army to storm War’s castle. But how was I going to do that with a small horde of ghosts?

I searched inside, wanting to feel my mating bond with Marlowe. It was so fresh, like the first spring rain. His longing for me swept in, beating in the core of my heart, so much so I could no longer contain it. I uncloaked the bond, and Marlowe’s raw need rammed into me like star fire.

My heart swelled with warmth. It felt good to be missed so much.

And then, I was no longer in the bathtub but in the tree house Marlowe had built for me outside his castle by the Baltic Sea, knowing that I liked to roam the forest. I’d walked out of the sea, crossed the forest, and found him when I first came into being. My body had matured before my mind and my emotions had. And Marlowe had waited for me to become a real woman in mind and emotions. He’d never taken another woman after seeing me.

My breath caught when I saw that Marlowe was suddenly there. He was even more gorgeous than I remembered. His tousled dark hair was swept up in the wind. His sculpted face that only a dark god could possess softened as his intense sapphire eyes beheld me, desire and rage searing them.

He didn’t carry his usual menace, but every hard muscle still rippled like a war song.

Then I noticed that he was completely naked. His taut chest beckoned for me to lick it. His six pack wanted my fingers to caress each groove, to ease his tension and need, and his cock, long and massive, jutted out between his powerful legs, demanding my full attention.

I contained a small smile.

Marlowe had the most beautiful cock. A bead of pre-cum formed on the slit of his thick crown. At my inspection, it jerked aggressively.

Adorable.

Joy filled me before desire swept over me. All of a sudden, liquid fire pooled in my pussy. I squeezed my thighs together to get hold of myself.

I had questions.

“Why are you naked, Marlowe? Where are your clothes? Did you walk all the way here naked? What if someone saw you? I don’t want anyone seeing you butt naked! Some chicks might have a sexy dream about it!”

Then I realized that none of my words carried sound.

“Can you hear me, sugar?” I asked, and again, my words had no sound.

I gazed up at him, confusion and burning questions in my eyes.

Marlowe opened his mouth, but no words came out of his sensual lips either. He seemed to demand, “I need to fuck you, Bride.”

Was this some kind of a silent dream or a mute fantasy realm where all sounds were muffled? But I was sure the male in front of me was my Marlowe. The profound emotions coming from the mating bond couldn’t be faked, and his scent of pine, the first spring rain, and powerful male musk couldn’t lie either.

Though he was my Sugar Cheeks, he wasn’t exactly the same. He’d changed. When he’d rescued me from the dungeon, he’d been all rage and guilt and grief while I had no memory of him. Then when he’d taken my blood, he’d also drunk my memories into him, and it’d nearly broken him all over again to see my century of misery.

When we’d finally mated and formed the mating bond, he started the healing process, both physically and emotionally. We’d reached an understanding that our sins belonged to the past since none of us could go back and change what we’d done, so we had to forgive each other and ourselves. We would do better for ourselves and others, and that was how we would atone.

He’d been hopeful for the first time after I became his Bride in truth. The happiness and protectiveness on his sleepy face had broken my heart when I had to leave him.

I’d had to do what I needed to do. He had to understand that.

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