NECROSIS (Nerys Newblood Book 2) Read online

  "Titus."

  "If you need anything, I put Luca in the room next to yours and I'm right across the hall."

  "Titus."

  "I know it's a little cramped, but this is the biggest bathroom. I thought you would be more comfortable in here—"

  "Titus," I say, cupping my hand over his mouth to stop the flow of words, "it's bigger than the bedroom that I had living with the Holy Women. And I had to share that bedroom with two other girls." His head drops and he sucks in a breath. I remove my hand. "What's up?" I ask.

  As though they have a mind of their own, my fingers drift into his hair, and I brush the strands away from his face. His eyes meet mine, and I gasp as his fingers grip me around my waist, pulling me into him with a jerk. Titus' head comes down, and he rests his forehead against my shoulder, breathing in slowly before exhaling hot air against my skin.

  Is it always going to feel like this? I blink in surprise, not sure if he realizes that his thoughts have slipped into my own. I go to pull back, but his fingers squeeze me tighter, halting my movement. Don't go!

  Titus' body is tense as he holds me, his fingers digging into my skin past the layers of clothes. I sigh and continue to run my fingers through his hair. He relaxes over the several moments we stand there like that and finally I get the courage to ask him.

  "Is it always going to be like what?"

  He doesn't even pretend to not know what I'm talking about. Which leads me to believe that he was intentionally speaking in my mind. "Is it always going to be so different between us now?" he asks.

  "Different how?" I don't understand what he means. I hope he doesn't think that I see him differently now that we're bonded. I'm bonded with Holden, Booker, and subsequently, Luca, as well. I don't see them any different.

  "You kissed me," he says, leveraging up until his eyes meet mine again. "Then you kissed Holden."

  I stare back at him. "I didn't kiss either of you," I say defensively. "You both kissed me."

  He shakes his head, frowning. "You kissed us back."

  I pull away and this time, he lets me go.

  “Okay,” I admit. “Yeah, I did.” He stares at me, waiting. “I don’t know what I was thinking… actually, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t.”

  "I'm not mad," he says.

  I blink in surprise. "You're not?" I ask.

  He shakes his head before turning to look across the bathroom. I let my gaze travel to where his is and our reflections stare back at us from the mirror. Put side by side like we are, I can see the differences. His golden halo of hair, his shoulders—lean, but still broader than mine. He meets my eyes in the mirror and gives me a sad smile.

  "Why aren't you mad?" I ask.

  "Because I never really expected that you would choose me."

  I stand there shocked to my core before I turn to him and clasp his face in my hands. Without thinking, I yank him down to meet my mouth. His eyes widen and his hands land on my shoulders, ready to push me away, perhaps thinking that I pity him. But I don't. I brush my lips against his with intention and then I open my mouth and pull him closer. His lids slowly lower until he's staring at me through slits and when both of our eyes closed completely, all I can do is feel and smell him.

  His hands gently maneuver down my arms and around my back as I keep his face close to mine. I've never taken control of a kiss like this, and I'm sure it's not perfect, but there's a point to it. I push my tongue against his and his rolls against mine. I smell the sweat on his skin, the dirt in his pores, but underneath that, I smell something that is so intricately Titus, I don't have another name for it. When I know he won't pull away, I let my hands creep back into his hair, brushing the curls away from his face as I push my breasts against his chest. He groans low in his throat.

  Gods, Nerys, you drive me crazy...

  I'm not quite sure if he had meant for that to slip through, but I respond anyway.

  You do the same to me, I reply. He hears me, and his grip tightens. Without breaking the kiss, Titus leans down, his wide palms cupping my butt as he picks me up. My legs find his sides and squeeze. I grab ahold of his hair to make sure he can't pull away and I sink back into the oblivion of his kiss.

  The hot, wet, pressing of our mouths consumes my mind. Titus turns and places me on the edge of the sink and rubs against me. I gasp and moan, rubbing back, pressing my pelvis against the hardness between his thighs. Pulling away, shuddering, and gasping for breath, I stop for a moment and Titus meets my gaze, his cheeks are just as flushed as I'm sure mine are.

  A soft knock on the side of the open doorway pulls away our attention. Titus and I both look over to see Luca lingering in the doorway. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of his bare chest and low- slung pants. Are these guys trying to kill me? "Booker and Holden came back," he said.

  "So quickly?" The question shoots out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  "They left again. They just came to say…Nerys, I think you should come to the bedroom." Luca steps back with a crease in his brow. He doesn't say anything about how Titus has to step back to let me down, not even when Titus takes my hand and we follow Luca to one of the bedrooms.

  "What's happened?" Titus asks before I can even open my mouth.

  "Take a seat," Luca insists, scratching his head. "Holden and Booker seemed pretty shocked. They said you would be too."

  "Why didn't they stay to tell us themselves?" Why had they come back and disappeared again so quickly?

  "The King is dead."

  My knees weaken and I'm glad that Luca told me to sit down. What do I feel, though? I don't know. There's this odd rush of elation, this relief I feel. But it's not complete. If...if the King is dead, what has happened to Coen? Would his son—would the new King—keep him? Torture him? Kill him? And just like that, the rush of elation erupts into something far more sinister. Anxiety crawls up my throat, squeezing, and I choke on air as I lower my head, trying to brace it between my knees. Titus hovers over me and he's joined by Luca. Their shadows are outlined on the floor and I feel one strong hand on my back, warm and soothing.

  "D-did they find anything else out?" I ask between panting breaths.

  I see Luca's shadow shake his head, but then he speaks. "The news of the King's death is all around town. Apparently, they only needed to stop someone and ask."

  "We'll find him soon, Nerys," Titus whispers close to me. I nod and feel hot tears break through and drip onto the lavish carpet of the bedroom floor.

  "Tonight," I say through clenched teeth. "We need to find him tonight." There's a moment of hesitant silence above me, and I can almost see Luca and Titus sharing a look—the looks that men share when they don't know what to say to a woman.

  I can't say anything to them, though. What can I say? I just want Coen back. That's all I want. I want my best friend. Gods, I'm so mad at him. Why did he give himself up for me? He knew I wouldn't want that. He knew it would hurt me. Gods, I hope he's alright. All I want is him back. I sit up, my tears still fresh on my cheeks. I want him back and if I have to burn this city down to get him, I will.

  "Nerys?" Luca moves forward.

  "Did Holden and Booker say when they would be back?" I calmly wipe my tears away.

  "No later than after twilight," he assures me.

  "Good." I stand. "I'm going to take a shower and then get dressed. Tell me when they're back." He nods as I stand and head for the hallway.

  Titus stops me before I reach the door. "Nerys," he says. I turn back, feeling like a chill is wrapped around my throat still and squeezing the life from me. "We'll be downstairs if you need us."

  I nod my acknowledgement and continue to make my way to the bathroom. Once inside, I close the door behind me and turn the tap that will allow the rush of water to fall from a spout set high in the wall, close to the ceiling. I shed my clothes and step under the steaming spray, allowing the heat to mold to my body and steal away the chill if only for a little while.

  He will be okay...When Obidian's voic
e creeps in on my sanctuary, I nearly scream in frustration.

  Not now, I snap. He disappears as readily as he appeared and I'm left, once more, in the silence of my thoughts. It's not a pleasant place to be, but I'm sure wherever Coen is, it's a lot more unpleasant.

  Booker and Holden return just after twilight and we're all seated in the living room. I'm seated away from the rest; I can't bear for anyone to touch me right now. If someone tries to offer me comfort or assurances once more, I'll either collapse into hysteria or explode. I cannot stand it anymore. It's driving me mad and I know the only cure is to get Coen back.

  I feel bloodthirsty as Booker stands to announce their findings. I know he has his way of doing things, but all I want to do is shout at him to tell me what he knows. To tell me what he and Holden have found and whether or not there is news that Coen is still alive.

  Booker stands with his feet spread shoulder width apart, his face an expressionless mass. "We were able to bribe one of the guards that works closer to the section they keep prisoners." I don't even ask how he knew where to look since he's never been to Euron before. I assume that's what Holden had been for. I move closer to the edge of my seat. "We know where he's being held," Booker continues. "It's in one of the lower quarters of the castle, below the normal criminals and prisoners." My heart races in my chest. They know where he's being held, if they're still holding him then that means he's still alive.

  "The best time to rescue him," Holden says, standing next to Booker, "isn't tonight, though." He looks straight at me when he says it and I frown. "I'm sorry, Nerys, but it's too dangerous tonight. The perfect time to rescue him is tomorrow. The Ascension is tomorrow. Therefore, there will be fewer guards on duty in the prisons and lower sections of the castle."

  "They will all be working the Ascension tomorrow and Prince Edwin will become King with the whole city watching," Booker finishes. "It's the perfect time to find and free him."

  "When?" I demand.

  All eyes turn to me.

  "Dusk," Booker responds.

  I take a slow breath before I nod once and stand. "Then we go tomorrow. If something happens, we go anyway. Doesn't matter. He is the main priority."

  I can tell Booker disagrees, and I know if something does happen he and the rest might try to tie me up to keep me from going to Coen. But I also have a few tricks up my sleeve and a backdoor into their minds.

  You won't use it, Obidian says sternly. He's right, but it's an option if I need it. A last resort.

  3

  The Rescue

  Matric’s kingdom is no more. Instead, the city has reverted back to what it was before his rule. Once again, Euron, is still and silent. The night is darkness itself, reminding me of the not so distant past when Coen and I first met Holden and Titus. They will both be with me again tonight. Luca and Booker bend their heads together as we stand on the stoop of the townhouse. I would be worried about someone seeing us if the city wasn't a veritable ghost town. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, sucking in courage and patience when every cell in my body urges me to hurry, to rush forward, to find Coen. The guys seem just as anxious.

  Booker nods a final time to something Luca says before stepping away and they both approach the group again. "The plan goes like this," he announces. "Holden. Titus. Nerys." He punctuates each of our names by pointing to us. "You will be going into the dungeons. Holden, you're lead." Holden nods. My foot taps with impatience. Without warning, Titus' hand touches mine before his fingers twine through my own. I don't look at him, but I take his hand and I keep it in mine. Holden's eyes lower, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he merely frowns before turning to Booker once more.

  "Luca will go with you. But he is purely a lookout. Nerys, I know we have the...um...mental...bond..." Booker says, unsure how to phrase something he's not quite sure about. He's obviously not comfortable with knowing only vaguely what it is. I'm sure if I had a manual to give him, a book with thousands of facts on whatever it is I've done to them, he would be more than happy to pour over it. But, since I don't, he's left in the dark, and I can tell he hates it.

  "We won't be using it tonight," he says. "I can't have my concentration broken."

  "Why?" I ask.

  "I'm going back to the shack you led us to before," Booker explains. "I saw something on the door there when Holden and I went out earlier. I went back just to make sure I was seeing it right."

  "What did you see?" Titus asks.

  "It was a phrase. It's a spell, a powerful one. One that I haven't read for years and years. It's not well known. But it's a spell enhancer, a protection spell of sorts as well. It'll be enough to amp up my abilities. I should be able to perform a transport spell."

  My eyes widen in shock. "What was it?" I ask.

  “Through the shadows, we walk hand in hand with spirits and are once again reborn.”

  I pause as something clicks in my brain. "I-I think…I wrote that," I admit.

  All eyes turn to me.

  "Are you sure?" Booker asks stepping closer until he's hovering over me, half protectively and half curiously.

  "It was right after Obidian came to me," I say. "Clarity wasn't exactly a priority. I just wanted to get to someplace safe. For me, that place was Coen and so I went, but something kept nagging me. I wrote the words without thinking. They had never crossed my mind before. They probably came from Obidian."

  They came from within, Obidian says. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and I don't repeat his words out loud. It would likely sound even more ridiculous coming out of my mouth than it does in my head.

  "They're written in a different tongue," Booker says.

  "She was speaking Firetongue," Holden says, gaining Booker's attention. "It was back when we first met." His eyes flash to me and then back to Booker. "Just after we left here, we spent the night in some abandoned barn—"

  "Yes, I recall you mentioning something about highwaymen," Booker replies, and all at once, I receive a number of disapproving looks. Now, I do roll my eyes.

  Holden nods. "Yes, well, before that. Whenever Nerys would speak to her spirit guide, it was in a different tongue as well."

  "It's since drifted off," Titus comments.

  Booker's lips pinch down in a frown as his forehead furrows. I can tell that thoughts are warring inside his head, each trying to take over the other or, perhaps, they're battling for what makes the most sense. He waves his hand back and forth in front of his face as if waving away those thoughts. "It's curious," he admits. "But, right now, we have bigger things to think about. Namely, Coen."

  Booker details the plans he has set. He will go to the shack and make away with the door. With the emptiness of the streets, I doubt anyone will try to stop him, and with the absolute breadth and height of him, I have no doubts he'll be able to do so alone. Luca will follow Holden, Titus, and I in canine form as our lookout and backup. We get in, get Coen, get out, and then make for Booker's rendezvous point.

  "The spell," he says. "It has to be exact. If I don't do it correctly, if something happens..." Booker takes a deep breath and looks to Luca. "If something happens," he repeats, "you make sure everyone gets out." Luca's naturally open and appealing face hardens into a serious mask I'm so unused to, it's almost startling. He and Booker are so different in personalities, it's easy to forget that they are identical. Luca nods.

  Booker's moss green eyes catch mine, seriousness and concern etched in his features. I give him the bravest smile I can muster and he grants me a small one in return.

  Gods, I think. Please let us get out of this alive.

  Titus—with my hand still in his—tugs me away from the group as Booker splits off from us and we head in different directions. I follow behind the others, glancing back as Booker disappears around a corner. I bite my lip and turn to face forward once more.

  Mistaking my worry for Coen, Luca sidles up next to me. "Coen's strong," he says. When I don't reply, he continues, guessing on another concern of mine. "So is Booker." Whe
n I finally have the grace to look up, he smiles. "Everything will work out, little daimon. I promise."

  I take a breath and clench my hands, but I don't deny his words. Right now, denying them might jinx us and I'll take all the luck in the universe if it will help us get through this night.

  "We need to get back to Ragnarok as soon as we can," I find myself saying. The others agree with simple nods.

  "Booker sent a message before we came back," Holden says. "Madam Armaita will be expecting us soon. He hopes she'll be able to help us."

  "How?" I ask.

  Holden shakes his head as Luca takes a step away from us and shifts in a dark changing of skin into a panting dog that trots alongside our group, ears alert and eyes focused—his clothes don’t fall away under his shift, they just simply evaporate, there one moment gone the next. "I don't know, Princess.”

  We fall silent as we move throughout the quiet city. Though the streets are empty and the way is clear, I still can't help but feel as though something is waiting for us around every corner. I'm anxious, even with Titus, Holden, and Luca nearby. It's almost like I can feel something dark in the air. Something hovering just out of reach, out of sight. It watches us all the same.

  "There," Holden whispers, pointing to a plain wooden door set into the side of a stone wall. This part of Euron is hardly ever used. There's a trash heap somewhere nearby. I can smell the sickly sour stench of putrid garbage and rotting leftovers. Holden and Titus pull me towards it and Luca trots behind, his snout turning from side to side, scenting for others nearby. I don't know how he can smell anything over the trash. I shiver in the cold night and Titus urges me closer to him as Holden bends down in front of the door, retrieving long metal objects from somewhere under his clothes. He inserts one of the long metal rods and then tinkers with it, shifting the shaft of it up and down inside the keyhole before something clicks and the door opens.

  "How did you do that?" I ask, curious and wanting to examine the tools he quickly stuffs back under his clothes.