Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)

by Keri Lake

For those who feel lost in a dark and pathless wood. Believe in the magic beyond the trees.

How tragic that a woman’s worth equated to the depth of a man’s pockets.

When he reached the top, he found two beds across the room from one another. Mingled with a strong floral scent was something that hit the back of his throat, stiffening his jaw. Like sweet oranges. A dizzying weakness swept over him, and he stumbled back a step, his senses overwhelmed. Fucking hells …. What in the gods was wrong with him?

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.

She held such a purity and innocence about her, a vibrancy that taunted the darkest corners of his soul. And seven hells, he wanted to tear his own eyeballs out for noticing.

The curiosity had gnawed at him for days, his thoughts becoming obtrusive. Obsessive. Who was the little mortal with raven hair and that silvery crescent in her eye that reminded him of a winter moon? And why had he not stopped seeing her in his mind since that night? Every detail of her face lingered so vividly in his thoughts, he wanted to carve them out with a blade.

as he climbed onto the horse behind me, bringing to my awareness just how small I was compared to him, when his arms came around from behind, practically swallowing me as he took hold of the reins.

He turned as if to leave, but paused and kicked his head to the side, revealing a profile as handsome as I’d have imagined. Angular and chiseled jawline, with a day’s worth of stubble, the intense slope of his brows, and an elegantly shaped nose, all of which, gave him a commanding appearance.

When I finally lay back on the pillow, I forced my mind to think of something else. Something that would chase away the image of that spider sinking its fangs into my flesh. The first and only thought I could summon was Zevander.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … whatever that was.” “Never apologize for incapacitating your enemy.” “You’re not my enemy, though.” “Aren’t I?”

And the sound that rose up from below pierced him in the heart. A song he remembered from some distant memory he couldn’t place. An angelic voice that strummed his soul. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

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.

“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 …”

“Do you ever think you’d kill me?” “Sometimes, yes.” I elbowed him in the arm and let loose a chuckle, turning in time to catch the elusive smile on his face. How handsome, with his bright white teeth and the dimple in his unscarred cheek. When the humor died out, he lowered his gaze. “I think the world would be far duller, though.”

“The whims of fate are an irksome intrusion, and yet …” He canted toward me, as if to kiss me, his lips mere inches from mine. “Who could’ve predicted that one touch of your pounding pulse would be so disarming.”

An ache throbbed in his chest at the sight of her, his every thought plagued by her haunting allure. Damn him for not seizing the opportunity that night and ending this maddening curiosity. She’d laid down the gauntlet with that dress, daring him to indulge, but kissing her would’ve been the sweetest poison. An intoxicating elixir, as deadly as it was addicting.

Night after night, he’d watched her sing to his brother, laugh with his sister, and infuse life back into Eidolon. He’d secretly observed as she’d studied with Dolion and Allura, and exchanged lighthearted insults with Magdah while cooking. And those godsforsaken weavers she left hanging around served as a constant reminder of her presence, even when he wasn’t watching her. Yet, in spite of her infectious draw, he’d chosen to distance himself from her over the last week. A decision that burned in his chest every time he’d heard her voice carry from another room, or caught her staring at him, as she was right then.

“I’ll be sure to pass along a goodbye kiss to her for you.” “Only if you intend to spend eternity in the Shadow Realm,” Zevander said over his shoulder, gnashing his molars at the thought of Ravezio’s lips pressed to hers.

Much as I fought to deny it, the man captivated me. That spellbinding, defiant nature of his roused a dark and lecherous craving that refused to be smothered.

“Possessing a blade doesn’t make you a threat. It’s the mind which governs the weapon.”

“You so much as breathe across her neck, and I will take pleasure in skewering your skull before I set it aflame.”

He stared at her lips, wanting so badly to kiss them. She was a vision of perfection. How greedily he desired her. His little moon witch.

“I told Rykaia it was too much. But she swore I’d blend in. She masked my scent and aura.” “Yes, she did. I can hardly smell you, and yet, I still knew it was you.”

“I curse Rykaia for bringing you here. And yet, the thought of never seeing you in this dress is a torment in itself.”

“You fucking look at her, and I’ll carve your eyes from their sockets then cram them down your gullet.”

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.

“Because I’m a jealous cunt who refuses to entertain thoughts of you lying next to another man.

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.

“I want you. I want you so desperately that I’d kill anything with a pulse just to have you for one night. This insatiable craving I feel …” A muscle in his jaw twitched with the tension in his words and he squeezed my hand. “I can’t fucking breathe. I ache for you, Maevyth. Believe me when I say this.”

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.

“And I am yours to touch, Maevyth. I crave your touch more than my next breath.”

“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.”

“I will not let anything hurt you.” Finger hooking my chin, he tipped my head back, his eyes glowing pools of molten lava. “I have killed in a variety of ways, Maevyth, but anything that dares attempt to harm you tonight will suffer the most violent of them all,” he said in a voice that was somehow fierce and chillingly calm at the same time. “Believe me when I tell you this.” His lips pressed to mine, and I clutched him tighter, letting him wind me in his web of safety. "They'd be fools to tempt such fate. Not a single creature would be spared when I burned it all to the ground."

“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.”