Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)

by Keri Lake

“Why?” The man shook his head. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Why me?” “Because you breathe.” Zevander threw his hand forth, sending a blast of flame over the man, whose screams and cries of pain echoed throughout the cave. Within seconds his flesh and bones had burned to ash.

It was sickening that it took a suitor to spare my reputation, my future. How tragic that a woman’s worth equated to the depth of a man’s pockets.

A soft but agonizing moan bled through the coverings, and Zevander frowned at the way the sound strummed his muscles. The bundle shifted, movement pulling the blankets away to reveal a face that snapped his spine straight. Long, black hair lay strewn about her pillow and plastered to her sweaty brow. Porcelain skin that carried the soft pink of a fever. Full, bow-shaped lips, slightly parted. Fucking beautiful.

“It’s her.” “It’s her.” “You cast a sleeping spell over her?” “She wouldn’t stop talking.” “Such a brute,” he muttered under his breath.

“Is it that I’m a woman seated at the council or you truly do not care for me?” “I care more for the vomit I just expelled than I do the members of the king’s council.”

“The new apprentice to the Magelord.” “New apprentice? Is he handsome?” “She is going to be a headache for me.” “She?” Rykaia frowned. “I’m sorry, did you just say she? As in, next in line for Magelord?” “If she backs off, I suppose. Otherwise, she’ll be next in line for my blade.”

“You never answered my question. What does Lunamiszka mean?” He leaned back against the stony wall behind him, his stance more relaxed. Casual. Devastating, how brutal and aristocratic he could look at the same time. “It means you’re persistently frustrating and you ask too many questions.” “All that in a single word?” “We like brevity. And silence.” “Are you speaking for all of your personalities?”

“My point is, I will never fall to my knees for you, or any man, in case that was your expectation.” “Never said it was.” He gave a quick glance over his shoulder. “I simply said I’d like to see it.”

Oh!!!!!!!

“Don’t you feel just a small bit of guilt locking me in?” “No.” The obnoxious turn of the key emphasized his point. “Your heart must be the smallest organ you possess.” “And your mouth must be the largest.” Oooh, what I wouldn’t have given to smack him across the face!

It was then it occurred to him that something else pulsed through his veins, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had him feeling so unsettled. Beyond jealousy. Something deeper. Darker. Possessive.

Wearing a slight smile, she sauntered toward the window, and something about her dark figure set against the misty, aphotic view, and the candles flickering around her, as if the light longed to touch her, made his chest clench. She was beautiful. No, beautiful was too weak a word. She was intoxicating. Exquisitely divine.

Frustrated by the peculiar reaction, he turned to leave. “Zevander,” she said, and the sound of his name rolling off her tongue sent a chill down his spine. He turned his head to the side, refusing to let her see the yearning that was damned near beaming in his eyes.

“Are you my enemy?” With an introspective tension etched into his brow, he lowered his gaze. “I’m everyone’s enemy. There’s nothing virtuous about the magic I wield.” “And if mine is associated with death, maybe I’m everyone’s enemy, as well.” Those mercurial eyes found me again, brimming with dark amusement. “Aren’t we a pair …”

“Who taught you to sing?” Smiling, I shrugged. “Myself, I suppose. Who taught you to frown?” I asked with an air of amusement. His lips twitched, as if he might smile but refused. “Quite the opportunist, aren’t you?” “I’m just not familiar with your other talents, besides fighting and growling and snarling.”

“You read all evening. Surely, you enjoy other pastimes.” “I do. Tracking and hunting.” “Those you’re ordered to kill.” “Sometimes, yes.” “Do you enjoy killing?” “Sometimes, yes.” “Do you ever think you’d kill me?” “Sometimes, yes.”

When the humor died out, he lowered his gaze. “I think the world would be far duller, though.” I was the one who turned away from him that time, hiding my smile. “It seems you can be charming, after all, Lord Rydainn.”

“The ability to kill doesn’t make you a killer.” “These were fairly deadly concoctions.” “Everything is poison with the proper dose. Even you.”

“Merciful gods, let me give her relief, if you refuse.” “She’s mortal. Aren’t you afraid of whatever diseases she harbors?” he asked in a mocking tone. “No.” Zevander frowned back at him. “You so much as breathe across her neck, and I will take pleasure in skewering your skull before I set it aflame.”

Zevander’s gaze fell on me, and he flicked his fingers, calling me toward him. “Do you know how the scorpion chooses his mate?” Rykaia whispered in my ear. “Promenade à deux. By asking her to dance.”

She was chaos wrapped in fine silk. The embodiment of trouble that’d nearly brought him to his fucking knees when he’d first laid eyes on her across the ballroom. So achingly beautiful, his chest hurt.

“The mortal is your problem. Not mine.” Damn the sharp stab in his chest as his cold words betrayed his heart. The urge to rip out his own tongue had his hands curled into tight fists at his side. “Oh, she is very much your problem.” Zevander ignored him and kept on toward Rykaia. “Fuck it all, you stubborn bastard. She’s your mate, Zevander!”

“Some women are fire in your veins and hell between your teeth, Brother. Accept that Maevyth will never be safe. And no one will be safe from you because of it. Now, go find her, or by gods, I will make every day of your life a tribulation.”

His aim proved true as two more guards collapsed into ash. The others slowed their approach as he stepped through the portal. After his mate.

He pushed a wavy strand of hair behind my ear. “I think you’re the bravest mortal I’ve ever met. And perhaps the most fucking stubborn, as well.” His comment brought a tearful smile to my face. “Regardless, I’ll stay and help you find her.”

“Have you lain with a man before?” The question sent a hot flush to my cheeks, stirring an irritation. “If you must know, no. I have not.” “Good.” Frowning, I turned my head. “Good?” “Yes,” he said, casually,

As my body settled, he lowered me to the bed and tore the pillow from my face, staring down at me with a reverent gleam in his eyes, a glint of adoration that knotted my stomach.

Zevander looked at me as if I were something more than the disparaging word that’d been hammered into me since I was found by the edge of the woods: unwanted. Lorn. He looked at me as if I was worthy of being seen. The emotion sank its teeth into me, and I turned away from him, willing myself to hold back the tears that would surely destroy this moment between us. “You look like a goddess right now,” he whispered, burying his face in my neck, kissing me.

Instead, he made a silent vow that he’d viciously strike down anything that touched her from that day forward. His mate. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Mates were for those who believed in fate, who gazed at the stars with a longing to capture them. He’d lived too long with the practicality of knowing the stars were too far out of reach, and yet, in his arms lay the brightest of them all. The girl with the moon in her eyes and fire in her soul. Damn the gods for sending him one so beautiful, with a heart so pure. So fragile.

“I didn’t know if you …” The words refused to come forth, as I fought to hold back my emotions. Massive arms wrapped around me, dragging me down to the bed beside him. His body still shook as he held me against him. He didn’t move, just breathed, and I didn’t fight his suffocating grip, but let him hold onto me. Quiet tears of relief spilled down my temples.

“I thought you’d left me. For good.” My voice cracked on the last two words, and I blinked back more tears. “Where did you go?” He didn’t answer immediately, but curled his fingers into me, as if I might try to get away from him. “Hell,” he finally rasped, his voice painfully dry. “I was in Hell.”

“I’ll never know what in seven hells inspired the universe to send you to me, Maevyth.” “Some might call it a punishment,” I said, smiling. “If this is punishment, then I welcome an eternity of suffering.” The kiss that followed was gentle and teasing in the way he merely brushed his lips across mine. “You consume me entirely, little moon witch.”

“A man should not long for madness with such enthusiasm as I feel right now.” “You’re calling me mad now?” I asked with a smile. “I’m calling you mine.”

“Is it true that my blood could have prevented this? That the bloodstones are powerful enough to stop him?” “It doesn’t matter, Maevyth,” he said, with a bitter amusement in his voice. “If preventing this plague means sacrificing your life, then I’ve no interest in saving everyone else. The whole world could perish of disease and famine, for all I care.” “Some would call that selfish.” I traced my finger over the deep ridge in his chest. “Then, I am selfish.”