Lilith Shadowflame's Arc

Chapter 7 of 21

The six new worshippers walked back down the mountain path with the mark under their shirts. Damien stayed. His hand was still flat on his chest where the shadowflame had settled. Lilith watched him from the doorway of the lower chamber. He had drunk. He had knelt. He had said her name out loud in a room that needed it. He was still just one of the marked, standing at her side like the rest would soon stand behind her. She wanted him higher than that. She had no ritual for it. She led him back up to the throne hall. The dragon watched from the arch above the door, tail hanging, eyes half shut. Lilith stopped at the wooden table by the far wall. The leather straps still hung where he had buckled her into them on the first night. She had made him unbuckle them then. She had not moved the table since. "Get on," she said. She put her hand flat on the wood. Damien did not move. "You." "No. You." She kept her voice even. "On your back. Wrists loose. I am not tying you." He climbed onto the table and lay down. His hair spread on the wood. He was watching her the way he had watched her the first time, like he had been reading about this for years and could not believe the page had turned. She stood over him. She did not know the words for what she wanted to do. There was no book. The succubus had not taught her. The pool did not work twice. She only knew what had already worked once on her — a slow touch on the inside of a wrist. She took his wrist and turned it. She ran one nail up the soft skin from the heel of his hand to the bend of his elbow. He made a sound in his throat and did not close his mouth after. "You planned this," she said. "Yes." "On me." "Yes." She leaned down. She set her teeth on the place where his pulse jumped hard beneath the skin. Not deep. Enough. His blood was hot and tasted like the purple water and something else that was only his. She held the bite and pushed. She did not know what she was pushing. Some of it went out of her and into him through her teeth. Her crown dimmed one shade. His chest lit under the shirt, the shadowflame there brightening from black to a live purple. She let go. She stepped back. Her mouth was wet. She felt lighter and colder. Damien sat up slow. The mark on his chest still glowed through the cloth. He looked at his own hand and flexed the fingers. Something in the room had shifted toward him a little and away from her. "You are bound to me," she said. "And I am bound to you. I did not mean the second part." He met her eyes and did not look down. He then smirked and simply said “Now your turn. Lay down.”