Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [61]
He understood.
Twilight had always been too direct for her own good. "You really would have died for us."
The words caught Liet as surely as a hand on his arm. He stopped and turned. She expected him to look shocked, but he didn't blink.
"Nay," he said simply. "Not… not for her."
Oh, no.
Twilight smiled slightly and stepped toward him. She could feel her heart in her throat. She let the collar of her silk blouse slip, revealing one pale, smooth shoulder. "For me?" she asked. "You'd have died for me?"
Liet fidgeted. Sweat appeared on his brow, and she heard his racing heartbeat and heavy breathing. On some level, Twilight knew she was being somewhat pitiful-he was such a boy-but she found his feelings deeply flattering. Twilight felt her own pulse pick up-an experience she knew all too well and loathed just the same.
Stop yourself, wench, she thought. Don't do this.
"Speak," she said, stepping forward. "Don't lie. I'll know." They were almost touching when Twilight stopped and looked into Liet's face. "Would you die for me?"
Silence hung between them for a long breath. Twilight read the youth's tells-every twitch of his cheek, the way his eyes purposefully avoided her, the shifting of his weight-while Liet paused. She could see his battle-a war of will against instinct. One told him to flee, another told him to catch up Twilight's lithe form in his arms and crush her to him.
Twilight wondered idly which she embodied: instinct or will. She almost always preferred the latter, but it was so rarely the case.
"Aye." Liet looked in her eyes, unflinching. "Aye, I would," he said.
She knew then that this was a victory over every-admittedly good-instinct that told Liet to flee, and she loved that, almost venerated it. Twilight was ever a creature who worshiped her own destruction.
"Oh, damn," she said to herself.
With a flick of her wrist and a foot behind his ankle, she had Liet falling to the ground in a breath. This time, she was not about to beat him. Instead, she pressed her lithe body into his young, muscular frame. He made startled sounds, but she silenced him with a long, all-consuming kiss.
By the time she pulled away, leaving his tongue free to move, it was obvious Liet had forgotten whatever it was he'd been about to say. He looked at her without thought, blissful, innocent.
Twilight went for his tunic, but Liet stopped her with a wince. She remembered his scarred arms, but she decided it didn't matter. She went for the breeches instead.
"Uh, 'Light…" he started, but she kissed him again to shut his mouth. It worked.
"I should warn you," Twilight said candidly as she tore at his laces. "You've got some boots to fill. I've known-"
Liet put his fingers to her lips. "Nay," he said, eyes soft, vulnerable.
Twilight stopped. She realized the tale would hurt him, but that was who she was. So many men, so many times. Didn't he see?
Of course he didn't see. No one had-no one but…
Damn you, Erevan, Twilight swore inwardly. You and Neveren and Liken, and all your lackeys-even Nym. I don't need you-I don't need any of you. Not anyone!
" 'Light? Are you… well?"
Twilight looked into mismatched eyes full of hope and fear. She realized that this boy had never known a lover, but it didn't matter. He was ready to accept her, banish their loneliness-but at the same time, he was terrified of her. Or terrified for her?
"You're scared." She brushed his cheek with the back of her fingers.
"N-no…" Liet's body shook.
"You should be," Twilight said. "But not for the reason you think."
Liet's face broke into a tentative smile. It was the most beautiful thing she remembered seeing in a long, long time.
Oh no, she thought, just before will became instinct again and she devoured him. Twilight crushed his lips and levered her wiry body to keep his pinned.
"Now you have one more answer to give," she said between