Eldritch (The Eating Woods, #2)

by Keri Lake

So do the dark in soul expire, Or live like scorpion girt by fire; —Lord Byron

“Silver eyes are an abomination. You’ve birthed a demon. Your gods have forsaken you. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“There, there. Evil brought into the world must be extinguished, for we are merciless shepherds of the sacred tenet.”

“Take her to The Eating Woods. Offer her as a sacrifice, so that we may be blessed with a mild winter.”

Eyes of silver and deathly pale skin. The child her priestess had prophesied would arrive with a new moon.

“The will of your god will be your demise. For, one day, it is you who will become The Banished. Maledicio tej’per nomed vetusza deosium.” I curse you by the name of the ancient gods.

The crackling sound of sizzling skin brought a smile to her face, as she watched the sign of the gods burn into his hand—five stars and a moon. His eyes turned a milky white, as the curse she’d cast hooked itself into the boy’s heart.

“Goddess Death,” she rasped. “You will perish in the name of the goddess. For that is your...

The old woman sighed and ran her sharp fingernail over her thumb, drawing a small sliver of blood. “Argenticulos tej cinere, sole fractir’per mortiz.” Eyes of silver to ash, a curse only broken by death.

“How can I convince you that the only thing that could possibly force me away from you is death? And even then, I’d find a way to get back to you.”

She was his mate. His destiny. The more time he spent with her, the stronger the pull in his blood, like gravity shifting the tides. An unbreakable thread tied to his chest. And the fiercer his need to protect her.

“To be fair, your chivalry, however dark and morbid and brimming with lunacy it may have been, warmed my heart. No one has ever offered to destroy the world for me.” “I’m nothing if not fiendishly and soullessly chivalrous.”

“I end up with black fingertips, a spine that flies out of my palm, and a damned whistle in my throat!”

“You once rose from the flames. You are forged by the ancients. You will not die, my son. It is not your fate.”

“I do not welcome anyone’s touch, but I’ve craved yours with the kind of voracity that makes me question my morals.”

I hadn’t even arrived at the part about the bonewhip, or the whistle in my throat that called upon a massive dragon, or my blackened fingertips that could kill with a single touch.

“That isn’t survival. It’s surrender. And at what expense? Better to die fighting, than live shackled.”

“I’ve grown weary of convincing you. Your wounds become more severe the longer you defy her. One day, my friend, they will become your tragedy.”

“Then, I suspect if I were the flame, it’s your touch that would make me tremble.”

“You’re as stubborn as a mule.” His cheek dimpled with a wolfish grin. “I welcome the insult, if it means the pleasure of having your thighs wrapped around me.”

Tell me, is it a requirement for men to relate all conversations back to that?” He shrugged. “I don’t speak for all men. I just happen to enjoy seeing you blush every time I mention my face between your⁠—”

“Years ago, I traveled to the far reaches of Eremicia and came upon a small village there, where young men were put through trials, to the death. Each trial they survived was celebrated with a piercing to their cocks. A painful procedure, but a reminder of their victory. Their manhood. The more piercings, the more victories, the more respect they earned. I found it fascinating.”

Each piercing will come with an enchantment. A promise that you will carry to the afterlife. After tonight, you will never know pleasure without pain. Love without suffering. You continue to defy me, but this is when I take everything from you.”

“Show me everything. I want to see every part of you. Even the darkest.”

“I will never be worthy of your light, the purity of your heart, but I’m too selfish to spare you from this darkness I carry.

“You’re a fate I never dared to dream, moon witch. The stars I was never meant to grasp.

“My concern is that I won’t be able to stay away from you now, moon witch. I crave every part of you—body, mind and breath. You consume me, and gods help you, there is no escape. You’re in my blood.”

“You are not well. But you breathe.”

“It’s not the ones you refuse to look upon, but the other. The one from whom you can’t look away.”

“Light illuminates the horrors that the darkness shields from us.”

“I am your ruin. The shadow that consumes your light. The curse that has damned your soul.”

A soft, silvery glow radiated from her shoulder where he’d touched her, and Zevander tilted his head just enough to see the marking left behind. A strange symbol that reminded him of an inverted bird’s eyes. Or scythes. “A mark of death?” he whispered to himself.

“The mark of the witch.” The voice from behind urged him to turn around, where he found a woman, robed in red, staring in on them.

Grief and rage battled in a tightly woven mask that hid the man I knew. Whatever Zevander was staring at, it wasn’t me. No, he looked beyond me, to whatever demons clawed at his thoughts.

“My obsession knows no bounds, moon witch. I’d tear apart the heavens and sacrifice my own soul for you.”

He’d always imagined death to be the most painful experience of all, but it wasn’t. Living was far more painful than dying.

Like a bird picking the seed from its shell, Raivox plucked the soldier from his armor and flew upward, the body dangling from his maw. Tendrils of shock pricked the back of my neck as I watched him toss the soldier into the air and swallow him in one gulp.

She sauntered back toward me, her steps more of a glide, and reached out for my gloved hand that I quickly drew back. Wearing a look of indignity, she reached again, snatching it up before I had a chance to draw back again, and with it in her grasp, she twisted it, studying it. “A rider’s glove.” “Rider?” “Of dragons.”

“Sweet child, it is not a simple blood magic that you possess. It is eldritch. Ancient. Yes, the power of a goddess.” Her finger traced the silvery lines of my scar almost longingly. “Some have attempted to steal the power of the gods. Very few are born with it.”

“I can’t find peace without your touch.”

My beautifully broken protector whose scarred and blood-stained hands held me as if I were a coveted treasure.

“I love you, Lunamiszka.” The words trembled from his throat like a solemn vow. “I’m a godless and selfish bastard, but I’ve never loved anything, or anyone, more.”

“We are written in blood. Born for each other. And not even the gods can tear us apart.”

“Fate could change the path a thousand times over, but in the end, it’ll always be you and me.”