23. Crypt

After daysof being deprived of the only thing I want, I desperately drink in everything about her.

Maven"s anger is evident as she tells me to sit as she prepares her tinctures. I perch on the end of her bed, lost in the quiet pleasure of watching her. Her movements are as bewitching as always while she skillfully combines ingredients I know little about.

My darling shoots me a sharp look that has my heart thrumming. "Enough of that dreamy look. I"m pissed at you."

I know she is. She"s unhappy with me for getting hurt.

My chest swells, knowing that she was worried about me. No one has ever fretted over me before, and if they had, I would have broken their face. But knowing Maven is upset on my behalf is damn near giddying.

I don"t know what to do with a feeling like this.

But I do know that I"m going to make her my muse. I want her ingrained in my subconscious just as deeply as I plan to be permanently woven into hers.

Maven brings over three bowls of different poultices and sets them on the bed beside me. She reaches out to gently but firmly turn my head to one side so she can study the spot where a shade bit off my left ear.

It will grow back faster once I"ve consumed more dreams to cull my exhaustion. I mean to tell her that, but she"s standing between my legs, and when she presses the tiniest bit into me, I bite back a groan. I want her far closer.

But pulling her into my lap the way I want to is out of the question. I"ll mind Maven"s aversion to touch until she wants more.

And she will want more. I can"t be the only one dying for a mere touch.

She dabs some of the poultice on my bruises before using small bursts of warm magic on my ruined hand. I"ve been tuning out the pain of that particular injury for several hours ever since a swarm of wisps caused it.

"Where were you?" she finally asks, meeting my gaze.

I study her beautiful eyes. I"m not a forthcoming person and never have been, but I need her to understand that I would never willingly leave her side. Perhaps some context is in order.

"The curse I was born with is unique," I begin quietly.

"Aren"t they all?"

"Not always. Some are hereditary. Other legacies sometimes have curses similar to one another. But mine is only found about once every century, and it can"t be broken."

Maven"s brow furrows. "Explain."

"It"s more a state of being than a curse," I clarify. "As I understand it, when the gods divided the Nether from the mortal realm many thousands of years ago, Limbo was an unintended side effect. It was a living echo between planes of existence, and humans began to dream for the first time as their subconscious naturally reached for that echo. And because souls first pass through Limbo and then the Nether as they sink to the Beyond, they leave more echos behind."

"Wisps and shades," she guesses.

I nod, watching her smooth hands hover around where she begins healing one of my fingers. "But the reverse is also true. When anything passes from the Nether into the mortal realm, it creates a ripple in Limbo. Those ripples allowed wisps and shades to run amuck. The gods quickly realized how chaotic and dangerous the dream plane was if left unchecked, and they assigned a steward—an incubus marked from birth, equipped to manage Limbo and all its dangers. Time after time, random incubi have been born with this unique curse. I"m the latest."

"You…manage all of Limbo?"

I hum in agreement, distracted when she begins dabbing the poultice around the damaged stump of my ear. It"s slightly numbing and feels nice, but not nearly as nice as her touch.

Then I notice how tightly her lips are pressed together.

"Something bothering you, love? You don"t have to touch me. I can apply that to myself."

"No. I"m annoyed at the gods. They"re assholes for giving you that curse."

I smile. "On the contrary. They saved my life by marking me. My curse was the only thing that kept those immortal halfwits from killing me when my mother announced that her mysterious baby was Somnus"s bastard child. Natalya was livid, and Somnus wanted to kill me on the spot, but killing the designated steward of Limbo would have offended the gods. Not to mention, since the steward comes around so sparingly, the Immortal Quintet must deal with the extreme repercussions whenever a steward dies young. Which happens often."

In this one thing, I don"t offer Maven the whole truth: that stewards always die before the age of thirty, some even younger. The strain of plane-walking is just too much to live long. Even though I"m half-monster and more powerful than the stewards who came before me, I doubt I"ll last many more years.

But I won"t stain what precious time we have together with that knowledge.

She studies me, reaching up to brush some of my hair away from my forehead. I close my eyes in pleasure when her fingertips trace along the swirling patterns in the skin of my neck.

"This is how you were marked from birth?"

"It makes the chosen steward impossible to miss."

"Are the markings all over you?"

I open my eyes to give her a seductive grin. "Ask me to strip and find out."

Maven gives me a deadpan look. "Are you really trying to instigate something when your hand is covered in fourth-degree burns?"

"Why not? It"s not my hand I intend to use."

Her lips twitch, and I go perfectly still when she leans forward to press her mouth against mine.

I mean to be good. Truly, I try not to escalate it.

But then she gently nips my lower lip, and all sense leaves my body. I kiss her back hungrily, relishing the way she opens for me and the tantalizing exchange. When she bites teasingly on my still-tender tongue, I tense and pull back with a breathless laugh.

"Careful, love, I"ve just got that back."

I can tell she wants to ask what I mean, but I kiss her again, addicted to the softness of her lips. My cock is stiff as steel, the piercings around the head creating extra friction against the inside of my pants, but I dutifully ignore it.

But when I start trailing kisses down her jaw and neck, I can sense the subtle shift in her demeanor. Though she tries to hide it, her muscles tense, and her breathing increases. Not in an excited way. This skin contact must be bothering her.

Once again, I wonder about that subconscious therapy idea.

I quickly pull away and smile apologetically. "Forgive me. If I"m ever pushing things too far with you, hurt me any way you like. I"ll have earned it."

Maven snorts softly, shaking her head. "I can handle kissing. I"m not made of glass."

"Believe me, love, I know you"re not."

She tips her head, eyes narrowing. "How much do you know?"

I wrap some of her hair around my uninjured hand because it feels like I"m anchoring her to me. "I know you"re from the Nether. I saw you come back not once but twice, so I would venture to say you"re no longer human. And based on where I found you, I believe you intended to kill Melvolin, so I assume the rest of the Immortal Quintet is fair game for you, as well."

Maven doesn"t deny any of it. "I"m going to kill your father next. Does that bother you?"

I adore how blunt she is. "Quite the opposite. Tell me any way I can help."

"I see the burning hatred is mutual."

"More than. Morals have never influenced me much, and I have enough blood on my hands to paint a continent, but compared to Somnus, I"m a saint. He"s the reason I"ve spent much of my life hunting down predators to dish out my own form of justice."

Maven traces the piercing in my eyebrow as if lost in thought. She"s touching me so freely tonight, and each time she does, my heart rate doubles.

"Sexual predators, you mean," she clarifies finally, then starts healing my hand once more. "That must have something to do with you slaughtering all those humans in court."

"They were all complicit in allowing a serial rapist to go free. Many were bribed, others acquiesced. I decided to rid the world of that level of cowardice."

"Good. And the rapist?"

He"s the reason I came to Halfton in the first place weeks ago. I received a mysterious, anonymous tip that the man who walked free, who I was so looking forward to torturing, would be in the area. And while I didn"t find him in Halfton, I did come across the faint, lingering remnants of the most uniquely stunning aura I"d ever seen—Maven"s aura.

After that, I"d been searching for her. I returned to Everbound and attended the Seeking, hoping to see who that beautiful, shimmering dark mauve aura belonged to. And the moment I saw her standing on that stage, everything ceased to exist for me beyond her.

"Not yet," I reply softly, barely resisting the urge to kiss her again. Instead, I touch the softness of her dark hair again, toying with it.

She studies me. "I heard you also killed Silas"s parents" keeper. And his uncle."

"Technically, they killed themselves," I muse. "I only planted the seed in their minds. Constantly."

"You must have had a reason."

My lips twist up. "Must I have?"

When she raises a brow expectantly, I sigh and release her hair. This is something I never intended to tell anyone. Still, I"m thoroughly enjoying this openness with my dark little darling. If I"m an open book for her, perhaps she"ll return the favor one day.

"Omar Crane, the keeper of Silas"s parents" quintet, was a wolf shifter with a sickness. The kind of perverted sickness of the mind that I hunt down at every chance. He enjoyed taking advantage of children, especially the children of powerful legacy families."

Her face darkens with the same wrath I feel every time I find one of those disgusting bastards.

I look away. "Unfortunately, I had to become intimately familiar with that sycophant"s mind in order to more effectively break it, so I know that for him, it was a power trip. Ruining the heirs of his competitors in secret, hiding his putrid fantasies from the world. And when I was in his dreams, exploring his psyche to find the best ways to unravel him, I realized that he had his eye set on..."

I hesitate. Should I tell her this? It may only upset her.

"Set on?"

"Decimus," I mutter.

Her eyes widen in shocked outrage. I was right. This is upsetting her, so I hurry to finish and get it over with.

"He was eight years old at the time and drew too much attention as the miracle child of the revered Decimus family. Which means he drew Omar Crane"s attention, too, in all the worst ways. When I discovered that, I unraveled Omar"s mind piece by fucking piece until he craved death more than anything else. Watching him drive that silver through his own forehead was beyond satisfying, and I have never once regretted it."

Maven takes a moment as if trying to compose herself despite overwhelming emotions. Then she whispers, "You killed Silas"s family to protect Baelfire."

How utterly soft that makes me seem. I make a noncommittal noise and study my previously injured hand. It still stings like hell, and the gradually regenerating skin is bright red, but at least it"s no longer half-melted.

"It was a domino effect," I explain. "I only drove their keeper and Crane's uncle insane because they were involved in trafficking. The rest of the lot killed each other or themselves on their own after that, driven by curses and such. But Crane would never believe me if I told him that. He"s much more comfortable hating me for it, so I"ve never bothered explaining."

She nods and then sits beside me on the bed. "If Baelfire was eight, you would have been…thirteen?"

"Something like that."

"You"re very sweet, in a fucked up way," she informs me.

I can"t resist leaning over to kiss her temple. "I enjoy being fucked up. So do you. We"re rather perfect that way."

Maven nods and yawns, and I realize how exhausted she is. I"ve been too elated about seeing her again to notice how heavily Limbo is weighed down around her.

"You need rest," I say softly. "It"s the wee hours of the morning. I assume things must have only gotten worse here, so you"ll need your strength."

"First, I have three more questions."

"Ask anything."

"You never told me exactly where you went. Where were you?"

I stand and take the poultices, setting things out of the way for when she goes to sleep. "Recently, there were three bizarrely large surges of shadow fiends, all within hours of each other. It threw Limbo into disarray, which led to wisps and shades breaking free and demolishing two legacy bases near the Divide. The Immortal Quintet sent me to contain the situation."

I also used that time to get more reverium, and I tracked down a strangely colorless plant currently tucked in my leather jacket"s inner pocket. I found it in the inner reaches of the Divide. I"ll give it to Crane when he wakes up so he can see if it will help Maven"s condition, just as reverium helps me. And if that one doesn"t work, I"ll find a way back out of Everbound"s wards and keep looking, if necessary.

When I turn back to her, Maven seems deep in thought. I smile. "What is Question Number Two?"

"Sexually speaking, are you interested in men?"

My brows go up. That"s quite the subject change. She"s always so delightfully unexpected.

When Maven sees my reaction, she clarifies, "I thought Baelfire and Silas showered together. They didn"t, but I wondered whether you would want to…"

"Fuck around with them?" I grimace. "Not to insult your taste in men, love, but that"s revolting."

She tips her head. "What about other men?"

I can tell she"s asking only out of pure curiosity. I opt for full transparency.

"I didn"t experience real pleasure with women, so after a while, I tried men. It was equally empty, and I gave up on both shortly after. Until I met you, I felt nothing of substance or genuine attraction toward anyone."

Maven"s eyes soften, and then she hums thoughtfully. "But that"s not true. You went after those predators out of anger. You protected Baelfire. That had to come from feeling something."

"Rage, apathy, and brief instances of vague purpose when I was destroying whoever I chose to. That"s all I had until I saw you, darling."

Now, I feel an extraordinary amount of emotions around her. But especially obsession. I crave tying my soul to hers just as much as I crave the taste of her dreams. I"ve only tasted her nightmares so far, and their flavor turned my stomach. But I suspect that with the barest taste of her dreams, I"ll be well and truly addicted.

"Would feeding on my dreams help you heal faster?"

I jolt, blinking at her in bewilderment. Did she read my mind, or am I finally dreaming?

Maven arches a brow. "That"s my third question."

"Yes. Feeding would allow me to heal faster. I haven"t fed in days." Hence why my ability to heal is lagging. Everyone was too on edge to sleep in the areas where I was fixing tears in Limbo, so there was nothing for me to devour.

She nods thoughtfully. "I haven"t had nightmares with the totem you left. Thank you for that, by the way. Where did you get it?"

"Somnus."

She pauses, and it seems as though gears are turning in her head. Her mind is so beautifully unexpected that I don't even dare to guess at what she's thinking. It could be anything.

But finally, she nods. "Stay with me tonight. You can feed on my dreams while I sleep."

My mouth waters at an alarming rate, but not as alarming as the stiffness surging into my cock. Maven"s dreams, I crave.

But Maven sleeping…

Gods above. Watching her sleep is going to be the death of me. I can"t stop the illicit thoughts now running rampant in my head—thoughts of Maven sleeping while I gently peel off her clothes, baring her to my gaze. The way her peaceful breathing would change if I were to play with her pretty nipples.

Would she make those same captivating, breathless sounds in her sleep that she did at that inn?

I bet she would. I want to make her come in her sleep. With her dream state in my grasp, I could harness her subconscious sexual desires and drive her to such pleasure that she would drench my face over and over. Then I would slide the tip of my cock through all that beautiful wetness and?—

"Crypt?"

I look away, internally cursing my painfully hard cock for taking all my blood and leaving me lightheaded with need. She"s tired. She needs rest. I must make sure she gets to sleep quickly, and I won"t push her when she isn"t ready for all the furtive ways I desperately want to worship her.

"You have no water in here," I say, my voice barely a rasp. "I"ll bring you some."

She looks confused but doesn"t protest my sudden offer as I quickly leave the room to force myself to calm down. I get a cup of water from the kitchen, but when I turn back toward the hall and pass the TV room, I spot Decimus. He"s sitting on the far end of the couch where Crane is sleeping. Decimus's head is hanging, but when he looks up at me, I pause.

One thing is clear. He overheard our conversation about Omar Crane.

Damn. I hadn"t stopped to think about his shifter hearing.

He opens his mouth, looking as if he wants to say something, but then clears his throat and looks back down.

Good. Anything the dragon has to say about it, I don"t care to hear. I was going to kill Omar for his past crimes, anyway. Knowing that he was after Decimus was the last straw, but the last fucking thing I need is for these wankstains to think I"m their friend.

Without a word, I leave him and return to Maven"s room. Shutting the door softly, I set the water on the bedside table for her. The lamp is off, but darkness doesn"t limit my eyesight, so I can still easily make out the way she yawns and curls in on herself slightly under the blanket.

"Thanks for the water," she murmurs sleepily.

Thank you for existing, my love.

I lay on the bed beside her, careful not to touch her. I try to ignore my pounding heart. I"m nearly breathless with anticipation at the thought of consuming her dreams until morning. Yet I can already tell my cock will be leaking all night. I enjoy edging, but there"s a fine line between teasing and torture.

"Darling?" I whisper softly.

"Mm?"

"I have a proposal for you."

I explain my idea for slowly helping her overcome her fear of touch through her subconscious while she"s dreaming. By the time I"m done speaking, she"s turned to face me, a thoughtful expression on her tired face.

"Let"s do it. I suggested exposure therapy with the others as a remedy, and I"ll continue that. But your method might work."

"You won"t mind my being in your subconscious all night?"

"Anything to help me not be so fucking pathetic about touch."

"Don"t call yourself pathetic in my presence," I warn her. "You"re a masterpiece."

She closes her eyes. "That"s what the chief necromancer used to call me. His masterpiece."

He probably considered her an object to perfect instead of a person. I glare at the ceiling. "I"d like to kill him."

"Me too."

Maven drifts into sleep a moment later, and Limbo clouds with her subconscious. I slip into Limbo to taste her dream and instantly find that I was right.

I"ll be addicted to her until the day I die.