Song of Dark Tides by Beka Westrup

Author:Beka Westrup [Westrup, Beka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Country Press & Review

Chapter 18

Viola

I claim a thin, cotton dress hanging from a clothesline. It’s not much, but it’s better than being naked; my skin is smoldering like white coal in the afternoon sun.

The streets narrow and grow more crowded as we near the city square, filled with masks and stumbling drunks and suffocating happiness.

Aric follows me into the mayhem. He hasn’t said anything since we left the drowned shop, even though I allow him to keep his voice a little while longer. I’m hoping it encourages him to follow me for the rest of the day. So far, it has. There’s so much I want to show him.

I pluck a scarf off a woman’s costume and wrap it around my hair. When we pass a particularly intoxicated man, I slip the red mask off the top of his head and settle it over my eyes, the fragile material barely stretching down to my cheekbones. We turn the next corner and plunge into the heart of the market, every inch swimming with movement and music and color. I walk with purpose, reaching back to tug Aric forward as we slip between the bodies.

We approach a tent with open curtains and I turn to smile at him, but he’s too distracted by the activities happening within the tent.

Humans gather around large vases, brass necks engraved with sacred markings and spitting out thick, white clouds. The whole tent is shrouded in a veil of smoke, like ocean foam dancing in the air.

I snag another mask from a passerby and offer it to Aric. He considers it, utterly still.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” I tell him. “You could stay and join the real celebration… if you think you can keep up.”

I don’t want him to go.

The memory of what we did together curls tightly in my chest, making me want to eliminate as much of the space between us as possible. Not for the sake of the cycle. I’ve fulfilled it, and the mating ache is slowly seeping out of my body. Now that I’m coming down, I see the significance of Aric surviving it.

Goddess Mora spared him.

That, in and of itself, is a miracle. It can’t be a coincidence that Triton’s son is the only male to survive my cycle, or any witch cycle entered into under the surface, as far as I know.

Everything clarifies for me as I look into Aric’s eyes. That night we met, when I followed his song. The rune of favor he pulled for our binding—The Gift. Those arrows in his eyes. The Goddess drew us together. Not for the reason I thought initially—not to punish him—but for some greater purpose.

One I still don’t fully understand.

I want to understand. I want to understand Aric.

He fucked me senseless back in that shop, just like he promised… but there had been moments, fleeting heartbeats, where he’d also been unbelievably gentle. It’s almost as though you want me to fuck you, witch. Kneel, then. Open your legs and let me in. Aric had needed to know I wanted that as badly as he did, even if he did spout empty threats beforehand.

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