Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)

by Keri Lake

Sablefyre. An ancient element of the gods, forged eons ago in Aethyria’s fiery heart. A single touch could turn a body to ash, and blood to stone.

His appearance was the result of having performed the Emberforge ritual on himself, the same ritual he intended for her son. A rite that only young children were believed to tolerate without any permanent disfigurement, seeing as they hadn’t yet gone through their Ascendency.

He reached for Zevander, running his finger over the marking on his chest, a curious black swirl that’d seemed to anger Cadavros. On closer examination, there seemed to be words written in ancient Primyrian embedded in the swirl in a way that reminded Lady Rydainn of a wax seal across his heart. Branimir’s lips twisted to a snarl as he whispered the words that stabbed her conscience. “Il captris nith reviris.” What is taken will never return.

I was no more than a few days old when I’d been found abandoned before that cursed arch in a wicker basket, a single black rose upon my chest. No one knew who’d left me there, but every villager speculated that, whoever they were, they must have hoped the woods would eat me, as well.

Emotions I was forced to keep hidden for fear of looking possessed by evil, as girls were often perceived when they felt too much.

I’d learned at too early an age that the sound of a girl’s scream drew nothing more than apathy.

What a terrible burden to watch something die.

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

“Go, my Darling, unto that place Where magic still exists Beyond the confines of this cruel world As you will not be missed Instead, I’ll find you in a dream Or a wistful plea on stars Hours of suffering no more redeemed For eternity is ours.”

“I also know that the delicate black rose doesn’t grow well in these parts. Our winters are far too cold for its fragile roots.”

“You may have repulsive eating habits, but I’ll admit, you’re terrifyingly cute,” I spoke on the cusp of a whisper. “Adorrifying. And chaotic. I think I’ll name you Raivox.”

“Then, I will beg. If that’s what it takes. I will beg that you take me back.”

“Beg all you like.” He let out a sardonic chuckle. “I’d quite like to see you on your knees.”

Since the night he’d snuck into the girl’s room with every intent to kill her, she’d roused a maddening plague on his mind. Why couldn’t he kill her? Why had the flame that he’d known his whole life turned on him?

“I find it interesting that any time a girl is unusual, or dare I say, unique, she’s deemed evil, or cursed.”

I’d never paid much attention to a man’s haunches before, but for reasons that frustrated me, I couldn’t stop myself. It seemed every inch of him had been carved by God–even his damned ass.

“Perhaps you should walk alongside me, unless you insist on staring at my ass the whole way.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t walk like you’ve got two snapping turtles attached to your ass.”

“Seeing me on my knees.” The reminder of it still needled me. “That bothered you.” “I imagine it’d bother most women. It implies …” “Yes?” he asked, and I wanted to swat the amusement from his voice. “It implies dominance over me. Which you do not possess.” He snorted and kept on down the corridor. “Yet, you follow after me to your cell. Wearing my tunic.”

“I chose this cell, did I not? And as for your tunic, I’d have sooner slept in a potato sack, had I been given the choice.” “You’re welcome to remove it, if you’d like.”

“Your heart must be the smallest organ you possess.” “And your mouth must be the largest.”

“Have you ever trained in your life?” It occurred to me that her question only seemed ridiculous because I’d been taught my whole life that women were weak and incapable of fighting. That only wild women, tainted by the devil, longed for skills such as hunting and fighting.

Instead, he merely lay across my legs, and I felt a bead of moisture slip over my shin. Tears. His tears. Weeping, as I sang to him. My pulse slowed. My breaths calmed. He no longer looked terrifying to me. In that moment, he reminded me of a child. A sad and desperate child who longed for contact.

He lowered the mirror into Branimir’s cell, spinning it around, past the flaming sconce—to two figures sitting against the far wall. 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.

She was beautiful. No, beautiful was too weak a word. She was intoxicating. Exquisitely divine.

He turned his head to the side, refusing to let her see the yearning that was damned near beaming in his eyes. How ridiculous he must’ve looked, a man of his strict training and discipline, pining after her like a fucking prepubescent schoolboy.

“Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Lunamiszka.” “Do I still annoy you?” she asked. “Endlessly.”

“Are you my enemy?”

“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.”

“Consider that a kindness. My inclination is to break whatever stirs my impulsive nature.”

She finally stopped, and the elation on her face sobered to something serious. “I have slept for a very long time. But since you arrived, I don’t want to sleep. I want to jump and dance and breathe again.”

“I am angry at you.” The deep timber of his voice rumbled in my ear, and he spun me around, keeping in time with the other couples. “For wearing this dress. For looking so painfully exquisite, you’ve managed to draw everyone’s attention. Including mine.”

Zevander turned to face him. “What did you just say?” “I said she is your mate. I saw it in a vision. She wore your sigil, the mark of your scorpion. As did your son.”

“I think you’re the bravest mortal I’ve ever met. And perhaps the most fucking stubborn, as well.”

“Because I’m a jealous cunt who refuses to entertain thoughts of you lying next to another man. Is that explanation enough?”

“I promise to be a gentleman, in spite of the fact that you unintentionally have no undergarments on.”

“Do you find it difficult, lying beside a woman this way?” “As a general rule? No. But when that woman is you? Yes.”

“Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable?” “If I’m being honest, yes. Blush looks good on you.”

“A thousand times I’ve fantasized this moment, and still, I failed to imagine you’d be this perfect.”

He looked at me as if I was worthy of being seen.

“You look like a goddess right now,” he whispered, burying his face in my neck, kissing me. He ghosted his mouth over my jaw, my cheek, until he finally crushed his lips to mine. “And you taste as divine.”

“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.”

She was his. Lunamiszka. My little moon witch.

“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

“You consume me entirely, little moon witch.”

” A kiss to my jaw. “The way you’ve crawled inside my head …” Fist tangled in my hair, he tugged my head back and dragged his teeth across my throat, the threat of a bite quickening my pulse. “I crave every part of you with an ungodly voracity.”

“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.”