Silencia (Solita Series Book 2) by Vivien Rainn

Author:Vivien Rainn [Rainn, Vivien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-30T18:30:00+00:00

18

The Winter of Consummation

1685

Agony’s embrace awakens Iuliana from the clutches of sleep. With a sharp, desperate breath she opens her eyes to a starlit, winter-swept sky.

The linen-cloth Jibrael placed over her eyes just hours earlier is gone, and there is no sign of him beside her. In his absence she can bask solely on the blades of moonlight that fall across her opened eyes as she stares up at the roof of this forgotten chapel, its roof partially collapsed long ago, leaving only the wooden roof beams to keep this old corpse upright.

There is little of the interior that has survived over the years save for the fragments of pews and faded frescoes painted across the crumbling walls. But one thing remains as steadfast, as true as it always has.

The altar she is laid out upon.

Jibrael has broken in her body; her flesh tender like never before, and in this stinging ache, she feels so alive, she feels born anew. Though the air is beset with winter’s biting chill, her blood sings with the fire he left deep between her legs in the sweetest resurrection.

And with this resurrection, she feels another appetite entire planted in the pit of her belly. It is akin to a hunger, the likes of which she has never felt; a hunger she can feel yawning inside her, as if a living, breathing beast of its own.

But a voice awakens her from the sensation of this new need, and she clutches the velvet of her cloak beneath her at the sound.

“Calma, Sor. I will not hurt you.”

Jibrael is gone from her—and in his stead is Silas as he arises from the shadows.

She can feel his eyes linger upon the lash marks of Jibrael’s affections against her pale, wanting skin, and fire tears through at the thought, only for the heat of his voice to wash over her.

“Do you seek mercy?” he asks with those brimming, needing ember-eyes. Yet what lays beneath is far different from the lust that consumes Jibrael—what lays in the dark behind Silas’ eyes are shadows the likes of which Iuliana has seen only in her darkest moments. In the face of death. In the arms of total, all-consuming grief.

If bodily agony is what sates Jibrael’s appetite—then what manner of suffering nourishes Silas?

The question dances over her tongue, but instead she arises from where she lays, sitting up to face the shadow before her; fearless, brazen bride she is.

“And what mercy do you speak of, caballero?”

How captivating he is, a shadow at the edge of this altar-bed, witness to the ebbing tide of her suffering, tempted by all the entwinement of pain and pleasure spilled out across velvet and stone beneath her bruised legs.

“The mercy I offer to all Jibrael lays upon this altar.”

“Death,” she realizes, “You offer death.”

His silence marks out the truth.

“I will ask you once more—do you seek mercy?”

Still inebriated with the sensation of this newfound appetite Jibrael planted deep inside her, for the briefest of moments she fears that

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