Drained by K. W. Bernard

Author:K. W. Bernard [Bernard, K. W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Champagne Book Group
Published: 2023-06-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Benton closed his eyes and took a deep breath in front of Sarlona’s chamber door. Four pints had taken the edge off, and the cup in his hand would get him over the threshold, but his fist still shook when he lifted it to knock.

Sarlona’s shining eyes would suck him in again.

Then gods knew what would happen to him. Maybe he’d hand over his soul, given how willing he’d been to donate his Marrow and mind. He sighed. Good a place as any for them. Provided he didn’t get on her nerves and provoke a Dagmar-like reaction. Assuming she didn’t look too hard into his past and decide to create the hell for him that he deserved. He bit his lip. It’d be fine. She wasn’t violent like Dagmar. Like him.

There was no avoiding her anyway. Glaucus had ordered Benton to report to her chamber at sunset. So she could ‘experiment.’

He took a sip. The pink sky from the hall window laughed at him and his trembling fist. Just as his hand obeyed, the door creaked open. She appeared in the gap, scanning him with eyes that matched the sunset.

“Just couldn’t wait to get me alone again…huh, darlin’?”

Same girl. Same heart and soul. Same loneliness. That’s what he told himself. He still liked her. It would just take some getting used to—their power reversal.

She nodded, gazing at him with eyes that wouldn’t allow him to pretend she was a human woman.

“Thirsty?” He sipped his drink.

“Have a seat.” She gestured to the bed and slid around him to shut the door.

“Can’t wait to get me in bed either…” He flashed a grin.

“There’s no hurry.” Her voice was so light, it seemed to fly around the room. “You can finish your drink.”

That sounded like a great idea. He took another swallow with one eye fixed on her as she sat to his left.

Her hand floated to him but alighted on his hilt instead of his flesh. She made delicate, sensual circles on the pommel with her fingers. He couldn’t help imagining them doing that a few inches to the right.

“Why’d you bring your sword?”

He stared past her—and the way she enwreathed his grip with her fingers—to the window. “Fend you off. Why else?”

A small table had appeared by the sill, draped in a white cloth. A ring of sand kissed its edges. Within stood a fat, white candle, a wide iridescent shell with a splash of water inside, and what appeared to be fish bones. The altar was the first sign he’d seen of her accepting Ashmore as her home.

“Do you still think you could?” Her smile should have been a row of shark teeth.

“No.” He might take a few fingers off, but that wouldn’t stop her.

“Do you want to?”

On her bed, in her hungry stare, anticipation pricked his skin. “No.”

“Remove it then.”

He untied his sword belt one-handed and leaned the sheathed blade against the closest bedpost.

“Now, the shirt.”

“You first, sweetheart.” Grinning, he glanced up to gauge her reaction. That was a mistake.

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