Page 14 of The Prophecy
They were silent for a few minutes. Raven gave the locket a last look and then shoved it in her jeans pocket. She wouldn’t risk wearing it and catching the attention of Sorien’s men. She handed the box back to Kael.
“So have you changed your mind?” he asked.
She knew straightaway to what he was referring. Probably because it was at the forefront of her mind. “About having sex with you?”
He winced a little at her words. She shook her head.
“Why not?” he asked. He took a step closer. “You’ve known only darkness and pain for so long; let me show you a little of the pleasures of life, and afterwards, if you still want to die, then the decision is yours.”
Raven looked at him, tried to imagine what it would be like, his hands on her body, more than just his hands. A queer, unexpected jolt of heat sparked at her core. Could she do it knowing that at the end he would grant her the peace she craved?
For so many years, this man had given her whatever little hope and happiness she had known. Only the moments when she’d been lost in her visions of him had she been able to forget, if only briefly, the horrors of her existence.
Now she was scared. What if he touched her and it was a huge disappointment? But maybe worse, what if he made love to her and he was everything she had dreamed of? And that would make it so much harder to stay true to her decision.
When she remained silent, his lips formed a grim line. He drew the knife from the sheath at his thigh. It was a wicked-looking blade, and a flicker of unease churned in her stomach. Was she afraid after all? One thing she did know; she didn’t want to die on her knees. She struggled to her feet, clumsy in the chains. He didn’t help, just watched through narrowed eyes, then took another step closer.
She realized she’d expected a bit more of an argument from him. That he’d try and convince her. He’d seemed like he cared a little whether she lived or died.
But maybe not.
She backed away, but she had nowhere to go; already the rough stone of the cell wall burned cold against her back. She watched, mesmerized as he touched the point of the dagger to her stomach. Through the thin cotton of her tank top, the metal was cold, and she glanced down. It pressed lightly against her. One quick thrust and the blade would pierce her skin.
But he knew what she was; that he couldn’t kill her like this. Did he mean to torture her first? She closed her eyes. But instead of the expected sharp stab of pain, the tip of the knife glided over her. It slid up over the flat plain of her stomach, leaving a trail of fire, over the swell of her breast, pausing briefly to tease the sensitive peak. Heat flared again in her belly, and she shivered at the sensation. She raised her head as the knife continued upward, coming to rest at the base of her throat. The point pierced her skin, and her eyes flew open.
“Do you really want death so much?” he asked softly.
She stared into his eyes. They were deep-blue, cold, showing no emotion. “I don’t fear death,” she said.
His face twisted into an expression of scorn. “No, it’s life you fear.”
She gritted her teeth at his words. Then she pressed against the point of the blade, winced at the sharp sting as it sank deeper. He pulled back.
Hah, he hadn’t expected that.
“What I fear is being the instrument of my enemy’s ultimate victory.” But even as she spoke, she wondered at his words. She had accepted death, could she now accept a chance at life? Could she somehow learn to live with what she had become?
“Well, then,” he said, “yield to me, and the prophecy will never come to pass.” He paused. “Come on, Raven,” he coaxed, “wouldn’t you like to live to see Sorien meet that messy end?”
“I told you, I made that up.”
He smiled then, a cold, cruel smile. “I could make it happen for you.”
She considered him for a moment. “Why do you care?”
“I let you down once before when I demanded your death. I won’t do it a second time. Besides . . .” he paused.
“Besides?”
He didn’t answer straightaway. Instead, his gaze wandered down over her body. His eyes, when they returned to her face, were sleepy, heavy-lidded. A slight smile curled the corner of his mouth.
“Besides,” he murmured, and his voice had lowered, soft, like velvet caressing her sensitive ears. “I want you.”
Raven stared at him. It was the last thing she had expected to hear, and she was speechless.
His smile faded. “I didn’t expect to,” he continued, almost speaking to himself. “Nor desired to. But since you latched those pretty fangs into my flesh and sucked my blood, I’ve been as hard as a rock. You expect me to kill you, and all I can think about is sinking myself into your body.”
Warmth kindled inside her at his words, a throbbing heat between her thighs, and she stared at him, almost mesmerized. She licked her lips, and he smiled again. “So what do you say, Raven? Let me take the body you so obviously have no more use for, and afterward, if you still desire it, I’ll take your life.”
