The Darkest Torment Page 30

  This time, when she entered the realm, she might not be coming back.

  * * *

  Gillian knew she’d reached the end of the line. The last stop on the road of her life. The place where she would take her eternal dirt nap.

  Stick a fork in me, I’m done.

  She couldn’t sleep, didn’t even have the strength to toss and turn, and her body hurt as if countless needles had been plunged into every organ. Her hands and feet were ice-cold, making it impossible for the rest of her to get warm. Every time she managed to take a breath, she heard a strange wheeze.

  Puck had told her she’d have a few weeks to live, but she hadn’t even made it a full week.

  Not ready. Have never really lived.

  Tears burned her eyes. She’d spent the bulk of her childhood afraid of her stepdad and stepbrothers. She’d spent the past three years afraid of immortal warriors who’d never harmed her, who’d only ever protected her. She’d spent the past three years afraid of everything and everyone. Foolish! That fear had robbed her of so much, and she had no one but herself to blame. She’d chosen to hide in her room rather than go out with friends from school and create happy memories.

  William was beside himself with worry and grief. This morning he’d paced beside her bed. He’d yelled at several doctors, and she was pretty sure he even killed a couple of them—or all of them. Cleaning crews had come in and out, ordered not to look at or talk to her, but her mind had remained in such a haze it had all seemed like a bad dream.

  He’d even yelled at his father again.

  Transform her! Now!

  I can’t.

  You can.

  All right, I can but I won’t. It will kill her, son.

  She’s dying anyway.

  This is true, but I won’t be the instrument of her demise. You would never forgive me.

  If she dies, I’ll tear this world apart.

  Bond with her, then.

  I...can’t. You know this.

  Wrong. You won’t, as you shouldn’t. But this doesn’t have to be the end for her. You can capture her spirit when it leaves her body. I’ll gift her with a pair of serpentine wreaths and—

  No! I won’t allow you to enslave or corrupt her.

  I vow I will never call on her services, Hades had said, sounding offended.

  You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. The war with Lucifer heats daily. New players are taking sides. Pawns are being destroyed. The coming months in your court will be bad, and they’ll be bloody. There will be major losses for both armies, and I won’t allow her to witness such horrors.

  When Hades reminded William that he was a prime target of assassins, that several attempts had already been made on his life while he’d scoured the world for doctors—and one of those attempts had nearly proved successful because he’d been distracted—Gillian had begun to cry in earnest. Her death would only distract him further.

  “I’ll find a way to save you,” William said now, drawing her back into the present. How frantic he sounded. How agonized. “You just have to give me a little more time, poppet. Hold on for me. All right?”

  Despite her attempt to comfort him, he was going to blame himself for her death, wasn’t he?

  Well, then. The first item on her bucket list suddenly crystallized. Save William from himself.

  She had to survive this. No if, ands or buts.

  So far, her best chance was marriage to Puck. William would never offer. He’d made that very clear. Maybe he’d rethink things now that the end was inevitable, but Puck had told her there was a chance she’d make her husband mortal. She couldn’t risk weakening William in such a way. Especially while his enemies circled like sharks that had scented blood.

  Puck, however, was willing to take the risk. At least, he’d been ready...however long ago. Was he still?

  If so, she would do it. She would marry him, she decided. She would live, even if she made him mortal.

  The sex thing...if he insisted, she could maybe probably hopefully endure it. But maybe he wouldn’t insist. He was the keeper of Indifference, would easily turn to someone else, someone other than his wife—despite his vows to the contrary.

  William, on the other hand, would want sex. He would need it; he was a highly sexual creature with the drive of ten alpha males. But he also had a streak of honor he could hide from others but not from Gillian. He wouldn’t turn to someone else after he’d pledged his life to hers, unless she granted him permission to cheat...

  And she would. Wholeheartedly.

  And she wouldn’t even cry when he did it. Really.

  But...a good husband would never stray, even with permission. Correct? Gillian’s biological father—a saint!—never had, while her stepdad never stopped. He was one of the worst human beings ever to walk the earth.

  Deep down, Gillian suspected she would grow to hate William if—when—he strayed. Which was ridiculous, considering her stance on the matter! But in the end, they would both be miserable.

  So. Yes. Her husband had to be Puck. All she had to do was find him. Or rather, draw him here, because there was no way she could leave this bed.

  She whimpered. How was she supposed to draw him here? She couldn’t even lift her head...couldn’t think...think...couldn’t...

  Her mind drifted in and out of a thick black cobweb. The times she was aware, the wheezing in her lungs grew worse.

  Suddenly her body was lifted from the bed, the most delicious heat surrounding her. Strong arms were now banded around her, and a heart beat against her ear. Confusion settled in. Was William taking her outside? Going to let her die by the water?

  “Gillian!” he roared, and he sounded far away.

  Not in his arms, after all, she realized, the familiar scent of peat smoke and lavender finally hitting her awareness.

  Sweet relief overtook her confusion. Puck had come for her.

  “Sorry, lass, but I’ve decided not to let you die. The last time I left you, I felt something. I think it was regret, and I wish to experience it again.”

  His greatest aspiration was to feel regret? His life was as sad as her own.

  “Will...marry,” she told him. She tried to track their location, but everything was a blur. He must be doing his too-fast-to-track thing. “What...need...do?”

  “Just repeat after me.” He turned a corner, her head spinning. “I give you my heart, soul and body.” He waited until she’d echoed him, even though it took her a while; she had to push out the words between panting breaths. “I tie my life to yours, and when you die, I die with you.”

  The tone of his voice had deepened, as if the words he’d just spoken carried more significance than any he’d previously uttered.

  The seriousness of what she was doing registered. There would be no going back. Once they were bonded, he would be her husband. They would be a unit. A family. And even if she wasn’t having sex with him, he would have to come first. Puck before William.

  The burn returned to her eyes. Was she really going to do this?

  Her hands and feet grew colder by the second, but her muscles didn’t have enough juice to shiver. She was so close to the end. Too close! So, yes, she was really going to do this.

  Again, she echoed his statement.

  He proceeded. “This I say, this I do.”

  “This I say, this I do.”

  When he said no more, she realized they were done. She expected something wondrous to happen. A tidal wave of strength. Warmth. Something! She got zilch, zero, nada.

  “It didn’t work,” she managed to whisper.

  “Don’t worry, lass.” Puck finally stopped running. He set her down on something soft then straightened, severing contact. The only bit of heat she’d had vanished. “We aren’t done yet.”

  He pressed
something even warmer against her lips. Something wet. A copper tang coated her tongue, and she gagged. Blood?

  “Swallow,” he commanded.

  She shook her head in negation, the trickle sliding down her cheek rather than her throat.

  “You will.” He held her nose and jaw with one hand, preventing further movement, and held his wrist over her open mouth with the other, forcing her to obey.

  Well. There was no way she was going to complete the ceremony now. He was too high-handed. Too uncaring about her plight.

  But the blood slid into her stomach at last, and another black shroud covered her mind. This time, the gossamer fabric didn’t send her into a state of unawareness. Puck lifted her arm, cut her wrist—the sharp sting made her cringe—then licked away the well of blood.

  “Blood of my blood, breath of my breath,” he said. “Until the end of time. Repeat the words.”

  “No.”

  “Then you die, and William and I will war for nothing.”

  Argh! She couldn’t allow William to get sucked into another war. She repeated the words and finally, amazingly, the “thing” happened, and then some. Lance after lance of strength sped through her. The warmth inside her sparked hotter and hotter, and soon she felt as if she’d swallowed the sun.

  A pang of sadness—she’d never experienced anything so magnificent, but she wasn’t experiencing it with William.

  The black faded from her mind completely and suddenly she could see. Sunlight! An open, airy bedroom. The decadent scent of lavender coated the air, stronger than ever before. She lay on a large bed, wisps of white fabric billowing from four posts.

  I’m alive! Laughing giddily, she jolted upright. Puck perched beside her, watching her with a blank expression, and in a rush of sudden gratitude, she threw her arms around his neck to hug him. He’d saved her, despite the risk to himself—oh, no! The risk! Would William punish him?

  No, no. Of course not. Puck had saved her, and that’s what William—her friend—had wanted.

  And since this was basically a marriage of convenience, she and Puck could even move into the fortress. Or she could return without her husband in tow. Nothing had to change!

  She tried to pull away, but his arms wrapped around her and held on tight. Too sexual! her mind screamed. Too much, too fast. She wrenched backward, cutting off all contact as her heart hammered a staccato rhythm. He frowned at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

  He said nothing, continued peering at her as sunlight washed over him. Maybe it was the bond but...he was somehow even more beautiful to her than before. The color of his skin seemed deeper, richer, and the silken strands of his hair gleamed. Even the razors braided throughout were lovely, the silver metal mesmerizing to her. She could make out every individual lash framing his gorgeous eyes. The sharpness of his nose gave his face an arresting strength only magnified by the hard slash of his lips.

  He reached out and after a moment’s hesitation, brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. His fingers left a trail of fire in their wake, and she found herself leaning into his touch.

  “You are exquisite,” he said.

  A blush burned her cheeks. “Thank you. And you—”

  “Are not.” His tone was a little harsher now. “I know.”

  “No. Don’t put words—”

  “Gillian!” William’s roar echoed off the walls. He burst through the door a split second later, shards of wood raining in every direction. He had a dagger in each hand and the promise of death in his neon red eyes.

  His dark hair billowed around his face, lifted by a wind she couldn’t feel, and for a moment, she would have sworn lightning coursed under the surface of his skin. But the most shocking part of his transformation? The shadows stretching over his shoulders. William had wings!

  He focused on Puck. “You’re going to die—but not until you’ve begged for mercy for centuries to come. She’s mine, and I protect what’s mine.”

  Her mind snagged on one word. Die. “No,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “Actually, she’s mine.” Puck stood slowly, completely unafraid, and Gillian’s mouth dried. “I would never harm my girl.”

  The lightning returned to William’s skin. He stepped forward, lifting a dagger, ready to throw it.

  Stretching out her arms to ward him off, Gillian leaped to her feet, making sure to shield Puck. “William. You can’t hurt him.”

  His smile held different shades of evil. “Oh, poppet. I assure you I can.”

  “You don’t understand. He saved me. He’s...he’s my husband.” The word tasted foreign on her tongue. “Hurting him hurts me. I think. Right?”

  Puck nodded at her.

  A mix of shock and fury played over William’s beloved features. “The bond,” he said, tone now hollow. “You agreed to it.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. Things were going to change. “I didn’t want to die, and you said you wouldn’t bond with me. I heard you.” But now that her head was clear, her body free of pain, she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision.

  She might have ruined everything.

  William might never forgive her for this. And Puck...he might want to kill Torin, her friend. In her pain, she had forgotten his vengeance against the warrior.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done,” he told her quietly. “He’s using you for something.”

  “I know.” They were using each other.

  “You know? Do you know you belong to him, and that the ties can never be broken?”

  Yes, and it suddenly flayed her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Puck placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, and it felt...right. But it also felt wrong. She did her best to hide her dueling feelings from the two men.

  William pressed one of the daggers flat against his heart and took a step backward, as if pushed. For the first time in their association, all pretense and civility were stripped from him. She saw desire, such intense desire, and wanted to sob and hug him and run from him and sob some more.

  “I can lock him up,” he told her, “keep him safe and keep him away from you.”

  A protest bubbled up; she bit her tongue, only a whimper escaping.

  “Go ahead. Try.” Puck’s grip tightened on her.

  I’m in a tug-of-war with two apex predators, and I’m no good for either of them.

  And...and...why did William even want her? She was damaged goods. Messed up. Broken. Puck, on the other hand, she understood. She—her situation—elicited his emotions, however weak they were. However temporary.

  How disappointed would he be if she failed to help him feel something new?

  “Gillian. Do you want me to lock him up?” The words lashed from William.

  The tears returned. She couldn’t repay Puck’s kindness with cruelty. “No. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  In a snap, his expression blanked, and it broke her heart. He said nothing more, simply turned and strode out of the room.

  What have I done?

  With a sob, she fell back on the mattress. Puck sat beside her and ran his fingers through her hair.

  “Do you love him?” he asked when finally she quieted.

  Why lie? “Yes.” Her tear ducts swelled and dried. “He’s my best friend.”

  “I will be your best friend now.”

  As her husband—still weird—continued to run his fingers through her hair, she relaxed, a sense of calm enveloping her. No, not calm but...indifference? Just then, she didn’t care about anything, and it was nice. The bond at work?

  “Am I immortal?” she asked. “Or did I make you human?”

  “I told you. I’m the dominant.”

  So. She was immortal. Now, she would live an eternity knowing she’d hurt Willia
m in the worst possible way. That she’d traded one hell for another.

  “We will cement our bond now,” he said, standing to remove his shirt.

  She gave a violent shake of her head. “No. No sex. Ever. I give you permission to be with others. As many others as you want, but never me.”

  His frown returned. “We are husband and wife.”

  “I know, but I told you I never experienced desire and I meant it.”

  He thought for a moment, nodded. “Very well. It shall be as you wish.” He turned on his heel and left through the same door William had taken, and the tear ducts she’d thought wrung dry welled with a new flood of moisture.

  22

  “Game of Thrones? No. Game of loans. I’m going to loan my foot to your ass.”

  –Taliyah, the Cold Hearted

  KATARINA RESTED HER head against Baden’s shoulder and petted her fingers along the ropes of strength in his chest, her mind replaying the past few hours. First, he’d read a text from Torin and cursed.

  William is on a rampage. Gilly is better—but oops, she’s married to a dude named Pukinn/Puck/Dead Man Walking. Oh, & she’s maybe probably immortal so Willy’s rage is gonna last FOREVER.

  Baden told Katarina the bond had made the formerly human girl immortal, the same way Ashlyn’s bond to Maddox had made her immortal, entwining their futures. Then he’d made sweet, sweet love to Katarina. Afterward, he’d held her close and they’d whispered silly secrets in the dark.

  She’d told him how, when she was five years old, her father convinced her she could magically change stoplights. If she blew the lights a kiss, he’d said, red would turn to green. To this day, she blew kisses to the lights whenever she drove.

  Baden told her how, centuries ago, he had allowed Paris to break his arm with a sledgehammer, because Paris had sworn up and down women loved nothing more than kissing an injury and making it better. Only, a kiss hadn’t made it better. So he’d broken both of Paris’s arms.