Chapter 13

The Shadow Master

We're spat upwards and fly several meters in the air before falling back to earth with a thud.

I'm up in an instant, on my feet and scouring the area for her.

For my old mistress. For Hel herself. The dark goddess of blood and death who commands the darkness. Who commanded me.

But all I see are the dense and ancient trees of a forest and the same vines that pulled us from the shores of hell carpeting this clearing. Rain falls steadily against the deep canopy above us, and the air is clear of sulphur and blood.

‘ASHE?' I call. I can't see her. ‘ASHE!'

The sound of painful groaning leads me straight to her. She's on the floor, struggling to get to her feet as she rolls around in pain.

My hand rests on her back, and she lifts her head to look at me. Her lips are parted as she struggles to get a breath inside her body. Her pretty eyes bulge.

Shit. Cole's trigger. It still lives and has her in its grasp.

He ordered her to kiss him. She did. But in order to complete the command and free herself of her trigger, she needs to be punished. Three strikes delivered by her lovers. Three strikes with all my strength.

Or she will not take another breath.

She takes my hand in hers, her eyes pleading with me to end this curse of hers.

I don't hesitate and pull back my fist before slamming it into her face. She goes down, and I shudder at the sound of my knuckles meeting her skull. She still can't breathe. So I drive my boot into her gut. She rolls onto her back, clutching her middle.

I tower over her and deliver the final blow, hating how a twinge of justice brews inside. As if making her hurt is warranted for making me watch her kiss Cole earlier. For taking me back to hell. For being the creature that she is.

Her nose explodes with blood and makes a gut-churning snapping sound.

Fuck me and my twisted soul for any shred of satisfaction I gain from that noise.

I truly do deserve to be in hell with my old mistress.

But then Ashe takes her first breath, and that noise has relief coursing through my veins, and any satisfaction I felt turns to nothing but bile at the back of my throat.

I tear the flesh from my wrist and press it into her mouth. She knows what's best and drinks deeply before she shoves me away, groaning and rolling onto her front.

‘Are you alright?' I ask.

A foolish fucking question seeing as although her broken nose is mending and the ribs I cracked are snapping back together, she's in absolute agony. Her blood drips onto the floor, and the painful moans she releases are far more than physical pains.

‘That was… Gods… That was really her,' she whispers, shaking her head as she struggles to fix her body. ‘It was her. Her!'

I fall to my knees, my body exhausted from the memory of my dark goddess. Even my shadows are silent. Hiding in the depths of my soul. So many shadows, all rage and death and desire.

Hiding.

To see her again. To smell that ocean of blood and hear all those pathetic, agonised cries of the sycophant souls reaching for her. It took me years to rid myself of the sights, sounds and smells of my home. And I was solely unprepared to see them again.

Ever.

Poppet Doll is still muttering her disbelief, holding herself up on all fours and shaking her head.

‘All those souls. All that blood,' she cries.

Honestly, it takes all I have to hear her over the ringing of my ears.

She slowly looks back at me, rainfall trickling down her cheeks, watering down the blood I put there. Her pretty wedding dress is splattered and torn. The black sands of hell stain her gown. The blood from the sea soaks her skin.

And the horror of seeing the blood goddess herself has taken root in her eyes, making them look harrowed.

‘Athir,' she whispers. ‘You saw him, too. You heard what he said? Was it true?'

All I can do is shake my head. Fuck. That revelation is one I can't seem to process right now.

Athir. The earth god himself.

He pulled us out of hell and called Ashe his daughter.

His daughter!

My ears need to stop ringing. I can't think straight.

‘A gift,' Ashe whispers. She sits, her skirts now soaking in the mud. ‘"Give her to me. As you swore you would." That's… That's what she said. What did she mean by that, Dorian? "As you swore you would?" What did you swear to her?'

Her words spill from her mouth in quick concession, and she never looks away from me.

‘What did you swear to her?'

‘Everything,' I reply. ‘Anything.'

‘Me?' she asks, her voice cracking. ‘Did you swear to give her me?'

I go to stand, reaching only to my knees before she has leapt to her feet. Her entire body is poised to either attack or run. I can't be sure which. It doesn't matter. Either one will end in her defeat.

I'm up, and we face one another.

I take a step. Vines entangle around my ankle, holding me in place.

Not purple, but green. Hers.

‘Tell me. Did you promise her me?'

‘I promised her all blood witches,' I admit, knowing that the truth is out and will only destroy us further if I attempt to keep it to myself. ‘I promised I would love her forever. I promised her I would obey. I promised her my undying loyalty.'

She steps back, and the vines on my wrist tighten.

‘Did you send me to her?'

‘No!' I scoff. ‘Don't be absurd. I swore what I had to swear to get away from her. I was her prisoner. Her slave. To get out of hell, I would have done and said anything. You saw her. She called me a betrayer. A liar. Because she knew as soon as she saw me that I had no intention of keeping any vow or oath I had sworn to her.'

She's unsure.

‘What was that place?' she demands.

‘You know what it was.'

She shuffles her feet.

‘The goddess of the blood witches. It was the goddess Hel herself.'

I nod.

‘All those people in the blood,' she whispers, more tears leaking past her eyes.

‘Her disciples,' I reply. ‘Blood witches.'

‘Will-' She rests her hand over her heart. ‘Will I end up there?'

‘Only those who worship her fully. Who allow the darkness of their power to take hold of them. Witches like Neve. Like Dhalia or Sinthia. Or any who allow blood magic to corrupt their souls.'

‘So. You forced me to do that spell to resurrect Neve and her sisters, knowing I could end up in that place when I die? That my eternity would be spent clawing to her in a sea of blood?'

‘It was a worry I raised with the others. But we agreed you were too much of an earthwitch to allow it to be of a concern.'

‘You decided,' she scoffs. ‘I doubt where my soul ends up is something you get to decide, Shadow Master.'

‘It's where dark witches go. You are not dark. You will not go there.'

‘I could have been after that spell. The more I use blood magic, the worse I get.'

‘Which is why we forbade you from using it. Which is why we have done nothing but encourage you to use your earth magic instead!' I slam my fist into a tree, splintering the bark so it shoots out in all directions. ‘And yet you reanimated the dead. You took control of the queen's spirit and wielded her against your enemies!'

I'm beyond enraged. I'm actually fucking scared. I know it, but I can't stop myself from lashing out at her.

She angrily scoffs again at my words and quickly wipes away some stray tears.

She turns away from me to hide her vulnerability.

‘I used blood magic and got pulled to her,' she says.

‘I think so. Yes.' I speak quietly.

‘How?'

‘I don't know. But you mustn't get dragged there again, so no more blood magic.'

‘Stating the obvious, Shadow Master.' She faces me again, her composure returned. ‘What did you promise her in exchange for your freedom?'

I chew my lip like a damned child. The vines slide further up my leg in warning.

‘Powerful blood witches,' I admit.

‘Meaning?'

‘Her power comes from her worshippers. The more she has, the more powerful she is. Every time a blood witch uses blood to power their spells, they power her. That's what all the blood was. It's the blood of those who died so blood witches could use their magic. And the souls you saw in the sea are the witches who died in the darkness of worshipping her. Every spell is a prayer. Every sacrifice is power.'

‘She's in chains down there. Who put her down there like that?'

I look away, fighting the urge to tell her. It's all stories of legends and myth, even to creatures as old as me. But I know that there is truth in it. And it is a terrifying truth to learn.

I do not want to scare her.

‘Dorian,' she pleads. ‘Stop keeping secrets. You say you love me. Prove it. Trust me with the truth.'

When she takes my hand in hers, I lose any fight to lie. I grip her fingers tightly and speak.

‘Witches locked her away. So the stories are told, back at the dawn of time. She was in chains even before I came to be. I was made to be her slave. Her creature to torment the souls of those she collected. The witches that locked her up in that realm cast a spell to channel her powers for themselves. The goddess was a creature of great and terrible magic that walked the earth in mortal form. She was death herself. Ending life and causing endless bloodshed. That is what made her stronger. That is what made her happy. To kill and grow. Kill and grow. A group of mortals bound her in those chains and left her on those shores, locked away in a different realm. But the mortals did not know that each time they used her power, the blood they spent went straight to her and made her more powerful. Her dark magic spread and contaminated others in their bloodline. And so Blood Witches were born. My torment of the dead witches became known, and those still living called me to earth. They thought they were stealing me from the goddess and giving peace to those they lost. But the goddess, she let me go. She set me free on the condition I send more of them to her. And I did. I swept across the lands as a shadow of death, killing and tearing apart the blood witches. Until Dhalia bound me in this form. If I kill with my shadow power now, the souls stay with me and don't go to the goddess. But they go to her if I kill the witches by other means.'

‘Is that why you killed Neve and the others the way you did?'

‘I killed them for my own reasons. They trapped me in this form.' I gesture to the body I inhabit. ‘In this corpse of a killer who relished in taking the lives of women and girls. Who enjoyed feeling their necks snap and their hearts break under the weight of his body.'

‘So you killed Dhalia for revenge.'

‘I've killed for less.'

‘Why does Hel want us? Why is she collecting the blood and the souls? And if she is so strong, why is she still shackled?'

‘Her body is bound to those chains. That's all I know.'

She chews her lip, thinking hard. All I want is to know what her thoughts are.

‘The manacles had a marking on them.' She lifts her head. ‘I have seen it before. In a dream I had the other night.'

‘What dream? What did you see?' I pull against the roots. I know I could break them if I needed to, but I want her to feel safe. In control. So I let her hold me here for now.

She continues to glare at me, distrust and suspicion on her features.

‘If you're tricking me and this is all some scheme to free your mistress-'

‘She is not my mistress.'

‘I mean it, Shadow Master. If you're working to use me to her ends, I will rip you apart and return that stolen body of yours to the earth.'

‘I'm not.'

She shakes her head.

‘How can I trust you?'

‘Because I love you!'

She recoils, like I've just said something grotesque. ‘Stop saying that to me.'

‘I will keep saying it because I do.'

‘You're fated to blood magic. And no wonder. It brought you to life. You served it for fuck knows how long as you tortured the souls of blood witches and then spent centuries killing them in this realm. You don't love me. You're no better than an addict craving my blood, seeking the peace it gives you from the torment of the souls you killed. You don't even know me!'

‘Really?' I scoff. ‘You think I don't know you? Then ask me a question, Ashe Nectan. Anything you fucking want, and see if I don't know the answer.'

She turns to walk away.

I pull on her claiming mark, and she spins on her heel.

‘THIS!' she yells, rain mixing with tears and blood. ‘This is why you do not love me. Because you own me and refuse to let me go! You can not love something if you own it!'

‘And you own me!' I roar, my shadows bristling at my back. ‘You fucking own me in every way one person can own another! My soul claws at my flesh to escape these mortal confinements, purely to feel the warmth of your skin. My head is filled with your needs and wants, banishing my own to a void. Your voice drowns out the dark thoughts. My body fits yours in a way that is beyond logic, and my heart beats your goddamned name in my chest.' My fist thumps against my ribcage as I hear it even now. ‘It pounds in my ears every fucking minute of every fucking day. Every beat belongs to you and you alone. And when you're not close, I burn. I literally burn. All I am demands you to be close, and when you are, I am at peace. I am whole.' The words are getting strangled by all these damned emotions I have no want of. All this fucking weakness she has created in me. I break free of the vines and storm up to her with such speed that she backs away. Her back hits a tree, and my fist strikes the bark by her head. She flinches as bits rain down on her. But her wide eyes remain fixed on mine. My face is in hers. Her hair moves as I breathe. ‘If your version of love is letting you go, then I do not want nor need it. I will keep my love as I see fit. I will covet you as I wish. And I will fucking own you because you own me just as much. You refuse to let me be the dark monster I was born to be. You deny me the freedom to exist in a world where I can live without you. So you will not be granted the agony of my releasing you into a world where you are not loved. Where you are not safe. Where you are not worshipped and fucked and devoured by a body and soul you saw fit to save!' I grab the chain around her neck and snap it, letting it fall to the ground as nothing more than a metal chain. The magic of it is gone, and she is free of that bond. I then place her hand around my throat. ‘Your price for freedom is my death. Pay it and be gone.'

‘I… I have to kill you?' she whispers.

‘When I see your back as you walk away from me, the shadows will take over. They will tear you apart and keep you for themselves.' I tighten her grip on me, and I know I mean every word. ‘I refuse to be haunted by you, so if you leave, kill me first.' I lower my hands and close my eyes. ‘I will not stop you. Do it and free me of this fucking torture. DO IT, WITCH! I will not endure another moment of your hatred and your pain. Of you suffering when all we want to do is fucking love you!'

She pushes me off her and slams her fist into my face. Before I can right myself, she hits me again, screaming as she does. Blood fills my mouth as I fall to my knees. My doll stands over me, her fists clenched as she looks down at me, her entire body a trembling mess as she takes in deep breath after deep breath.

‘You tore out my fucking heart!' she cries, her voice shaking just as much as the rest of her. ‘I trusted you. I actually trusted you. I never trusted anyone, but then you came, and you saved me from marrying Cole. From being killed by my coven. From living with the self-loathing and disgust they forced on me. You took me and made me feel wanted and protected. You made me feel strong and powerful. But when you put me in that circle, you tore my heart out, Dorian.' She rests her bleeding knuckles on her chest. ‘You left me with a gaping wound. I'm spewing blood, and you stand there, angry at me for dying of the wound you all inflicted on me!'

Her hand slams into her chest as she struggles to keep herself from bursting into tears. I can't tell if they're angry or desperately sad.

Her lip trembles, and her eyes slowly close. Her entire body slumps as she beats her palm against her chest, and when she lifts her gaze again, I know for sure.

She's desperately sad.

No.

She's heartbroken.

‘You were the first people in my life to offer me a home. To allow me to exist in my own skin. To allow me to live without shame as I gave into my desires. You took me from my coven and gave me something I had never had.' Her lip trembles. ‘You gave me somewhere to belong. And when I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could be worthy of belonging to another in a way beyond possession and obedience and magic, you dragged me into your cells, forced me to do magic so dark I died, and you stood by as I suffered. And I suffered. I died for days. I screamed for days. I was hung. Cut. Crushed.'

‘Don't,' I whisper, loathing the words. The pain in them. The agony through the link I made with her.

‘Every time I relive it, the only faces I see are yours. Your faces. The faces of the men I love, and now I can't trust a single thing you say nor a single thing you do. And you grow so hateful towards me because I can't fix the hurt you inflicted, despite the fact that I would love nothing more than to forgive it! To forgive you! To love you without being so afraid. Driving a knife through my heart would be easier than feeling the way I feel.'

For the first time in my long and bleak life, I feel my throat tighten. I feel the hot sting of tears.

‘You…' I swallow and narrow my eyes. ‘You love us?'

She blinks, her mouth parted as she realises what she just admitted to. She shakes her head, horrified by her admission.

‘I don't love you.' Her words are a terrified whisper. ‘I don't love anyone, and you do not love me.'

She steps around me and starts to leave.

I won't allow her to walk away from those words. Now they have been spoken, I will never let them die. I will never let her go. I will never let her exist unless she does so with me. I will be in her life. In her bed. In her body. In her very soul. For the rest of time.

She takes another step away from me.

I grip her doll in my hand, and I make her stay. I make her return so she stands over me as I remain kneeling in the dirt.

‘Hit me again,' I tell her.

She doesn't.

‘I said hit me!' I command, using the doll to control her.

Her fist connects with my cheek, splitting my lip.

‘Again! Harder!'

Smack.

‘Stop it,' she says, clutching her hand.

‘Again!'

She has no choice. She strikes me, and I go down, falling onto my back. Her hand must hurt like hell, but not as much as my face. Shit, she's a strong little thing.

I look up at her.

‘Again.'

She shakes her head, but I have her under my control.

She stands over me and sits, a leg on either side of me.

‘Stop it,' she cries.

Smack.

I have her doll in my hand. So I have her will and her body, too.

And I make her strike blow after blow. She sobs as she lands each hit and begs for me to stop.

‘I'm going to kill you,' she sobs. Her words are not a threat but a painful realisation as I make her bring her fist down on my skull again. ‘Dorian. Stop.'

‘I can't do that.'

‘Why?'

Smack.

‘Because I love you, Poppet Doll,' I groan through the copious amounts of blood filling my mouth and the indescribable amount of pain radiating through the entirety of my head. ‘And no matter what you do, what you feel, how you react or the struggles you face or what you say to me, I will love you. Unconditionally and forever. So you need to kill me. Because you just said that you love me too. And that has sealed your fate in its entirety. Kill me now and run. Or we will keep you for the rest of time and love you every damned day.'

Smack.

My ears ring, and my shadows claw at my insides, howling furiously at me and my refusal to allow them out.

Claim her. Contain her. Break her bones so she can never leave. Stop her from killing us, or we shall end up back in hell with the dark mistress.

I know we will never allow her to leave. I'm not made to be so kind.

This is all I can offer her. My life in exchange for her freedom. It was hers from the moment I saw her in that shitty village pub. When I saw her snatch that dagger from my hand and slam it into that spy of a pixie we had on the table.

Smack.

My skull cracks, and she screams a sob.

I have never loved anyone or anything before. I'm a monster. I love like a monster. I possess and command and own. She is not monster enough to accept what I have to offer. If she does not kill me now, her fate will be sealed. I will keep her until she expires.

And between the three of us, we will destroy her long before she takes her last breath.

I clench her doll.

‘Put me out of my misery, Poppet Doll. And put yourself out of yours.'

I blink the blood from my eyes. The ringing in my ears is deafening, and the slight weight of her body atop me is growing heavier and heavier with every passing second.

She raises her fist again, and I know that this one will be the one to have my brain leaking through my ears.

‘Do it. End our suffering.'

I'll die for her. It's the only thing, the only soul, I would ever be willing to die for.

But it's her lips that crash into me. Not her fist.

Her wonderful, blood-splattered and split lips meet mine with shuddering breaths and painful whimpers. I open my eyes. Her fist is still raised and ready to fly but unmoving above. She opens her eyes, releasing two large tears. Each one lands on my face, warming me. Her forehead rests on mine.

‘I love you too,' she whispers sadly.

I have no words to offer. No comfort for her. She loves me against her better judgment, and it's beyond her comprehension. It's beyond mine, too.

I slide my free hand into her hair, keeping her close.

‘You're a monster.' She whispers the words.

‘I'm your monster. If you'll have me.'

She leans down and kisses me again. The sound of our lips and the rainfall are all I can hear. The smell of her blood and mine is all I can smell.

She should be killing me. Instead, she's kissing me. Her hands go to my trousers, and she takes me in hand, stroking my length as she cries into our kiss.

I bunch up the skirts of her wedding dress. The dress she was to wear as she wed my best friend, and I bunch it up around her hips.

‘Ashe-'

‘Don't call me that,' she bites back, her hand still working me beneath her. ‘Never.'

She rests the tip of my cock at her entrance and continues to pump me. My tip gets warm and wet as she works me, her arousal building and making me slick, and all I want is for her to lower herself onto me and soak me in her warmth. I fight the urge to pull her onto me. To slam her down and impale her.

She's in control. She makes the call.

Kill me. Or fuck me.

Either way, one of us is doomed.

She lowers herself, her head falling back as my cock sinks inside her.

Her familiar moves from her wrist to mine and moves up my arm, past my neck and back to her mistress, leaving behind a warm sensation that shoots straight to my cock.

My hands clamp down on her hips as she starts to rise up and down. It feels fantastic for me, but I want it to feel incredible for her. She's inexperienced at riding a male. Up and down isn't what will get her where I want her to be, so I move her back and forth. Back and forth. Back and fucking forth. Her eyes are on the canopy above. On the stars and the falling rain. Blood smothers us both from our brutal fight. Tears taint our cheeks.

She lets out a beautiful moan as my head falls back, every inch of me relishing in this formidable and broken woman.

My woman. My witch.

That's what she is. What she is telling me she has agreed to be.

I'm her monster. And she is mine.

And oh… the things we will do together.