Twisted Soul (Cursed Legacies #3)

5. Silas

5

SILAS

The voices are gone.

Once the endlessly harrowing, paralyzing agony fades away, I lay marinating in dark silence. It's bizarrely serene. For the first time since childhood, mine is the only voice inside my head. Paranoia is not shredding me to pieces, there are no taunting whispers, and keeping my eyes closed for longer than a blink no longer fills me with that ominous, unspeakable dread.

Is this what being sane feels like?

Thank the gods , I think.

Those idiots are useless. Thank me instead.

My heart stutters.

That was Maven.

Murky memories and realizations slowly piece together as I pull myself out of a dark depth unlike anything I have ever experienced. My debilitating paranoia is absent, I've been hearing my keeper amid the murky hell I just passed through, and…I feel different.

Not bad. Only different.

Perhaps even stronger.

I open my eyes and stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. The bed I'm lying in is also unknown to me. I'm still puzzling out where I could possibly be when Baelfire's face appears above me, breaking the quiet when he slurps loudly on the straw of a milkshake.

"Welcome back, Si. Thought you wouldn't make it for a hot second, but it's nice to see I didn't have to carry your fevered, deadweight ass around for no reason."

Prick.

But he's nudged aside, Maven’s face appears in my field of vision, and everything else in the world promptly disappears except us. There's something different about her, too. It's something I can't put into words, as if her presence has a rich darkness that draws me in.

Her enchantingly dark gaze holds me hostage. When her fingers trail gently over my face, I stop breathing momentarily as it sinks in.

We're bound. Maven is mine.

Mine.

My keeper's lips twitch when she hears that. To my absolute delight, the following words she sends me are in the fae tongue, inside my head.

How do you feel, my handsome lunatic?

I should have a million questions. Perhaps I should also be mourning the fact that I just woke up as a necromancer, one of the most hated creatures of all time who are outlawed from existence in the mortal realm.

But none of that matters because gods above , I'm bound to Maven. I can feel it between us—an intimacy of a different kind. A preternatural, irreversible link that settles into my very being.

I feel…elated. So godsdamned euphoric, it's nigh surreal.

I also feel extremely thirsty.

For her.

The need to have her as close to me as possible is so sudden and intense that I don't hesitate before I pull Maven onto me. I know my blood blossom feels the same urge as I do—this craving. I groan into the side of her neck, wrapping her tightly in my arms.

I'm never letting go of you again.

She shivers when I gently nip at her earlobe. Just that tiny reaction has me nearly frothing at the mouth. I've always been attracted to Maven, but it's verging on painful at the moment. I want her in so many ways that I'm simultaneously lost and found.

"Damned newlybounds," Everett grumbles somewhere nearby. "Get a room."

"They're in a room, dickwad," Bael points out.

I trail kisses up and down Maven's jaw and neck, relishing how she's wrapped me up in an equally tight hug. I am drowning in relief, exhilaration, and a deepening desire that makes my mouth water.

Or…is it her neck that's making my mouth water?

No, that can't be. I'm no longer a blood fae, so I must stop salivating like this.

I'm so keyed in to Maven that it hits me like an anvil to the head when she tenses ever so slightly. It's only then that I realize how wrapped up she is in me and how any lingering remnants of her haphephobia might be resurfacing.

Immediately, I release her from my arms, but I can't resist keeping her in my lap as I sit up.

Forgive me, sangfluir , I apologize through our bond.

Maven ignores the apology as if her lingering fear isn't worth acknowledgment. Instead, she studies my face. While she looks at me, I glance at our surroundings. I realize we're in a hotel, and Maven and I are the only ones in this room now. The door is open, and Baelfire and Everett are in the central area of what must be a suite. It appears they left to give us space, while Crypt is nowhere to be seen.

That is uncharacteristically thoughtful of them, but I want more of my keeper right now.

I lift my hand and try to focus on closing the door, but my muscles burn instead. It's the same sensation I used to get when trying to cast blood magic when I was utterly spent.

Maven leaves my lap despite my protest to shut the door herself. When she turns back to face me, she smirks and slides off her shirt in one smooth movement. My cock surges with need, but then my gaze settles on her chest.

And my emblem there.

Oh, fuck me. I love seeing that.

"Come here, sangfluir ," I say thickly, burning for more of her touch.

She approaches slowly, discarding articles of clothing piece by piece, so sensual and calculated that I could swear that she's hypnotized me by the time she reaches the bed and fixes me with a look.

"You shouldn't have," she says simply.

I slip off my own shirt, so captivated by her that it takes me a moment to understand what she's talking about. Then I scoff.

"You think I wouldn't sacrifice my magic for you? I would sacrifice anything for you. Even had I never woken up, that risk was well worth?—"

She's on me in the next moment, her lips colliding with mine, and then we're both hungry, ravenous, searing with need. Rolling, I pin her to the bed and take over the kiss, groaning when her hands tangle in my hair. I rock my hips, and heat shoots down my spine when she grinds against me in return with a soft groan.

"Maven," I whisper, trying to shed my pants as fast as fucking possible. "I want to cherish you. I want to spend every day of the rest of our lives worshipping your body, but right now?—"

"Sex now. Talk later," she agrees, wrapping her legs around me insistently.

Gods above, I'm in love with her.

I never expected that.

My entire life, being in a quintet was always a given for me. It was how I would break my curse and how I intended to grow even stronger. It was never going to be anything more, not when I suspected I would be too ruthless and intense to be romantically compatible with whoever the gods matched me up with.

But Maven is a force of nature. She's steady, stubborn, and vicious. Mine.

Mine, mine, mine.

Yours , she responds, and then gasps and arches her back when I line myself up and thrust into her in one savage drive.

Fuck.

It feels so godsdamned good. Her pleasure and mine, twisting together, eating me alive in a way I will never recover from—nor would I want to. I thrust into her again, harder. When she moans and digs her nails into my back, I lose it, fucking my keeper with wild abandon as our blazing need drowns every ounce of sanity I just got back.

It's too intensely pleasurable for me to last the way I need to, so I try to slow down as I kiss along her neck, utterly losing all that I am in Maven. In fact, I'm so lost in her that it takes me a moment to realize I'm licking and sucking the skin over her carotid artery.

I pull back, going perfectly still.

"Silas," she huffs, rolling her hips insistently.

"There's something very wrong with me."

"I'm already in the mood. You don't have to try seducing me more."

I shake my head, aching to move but equally confused. "Maven, I…I'm thirsty. Desperate."

Maven gives me a testy look. "So am I, but someone is trying to fucking edge me again."

"No, I'm not. I mean that I'm craving…" I stare at her neck, conflicted.

I'm a necromancer now. Aren't I?

So, what the hell is wrong with me? Why does the thought of Maven's blood send mouthwatering desire coursing through me? Why are my teeth aching the way they always used to before my fangs emerged?

Maven registers what I mean and seems thoughtful. "Try it."

"No. It's wrong. If I'm no longer a blood fae, I shouldn't be?—"

"Says who?" she challenges. She brushes dark hair off of her beautiful neck, reaching up to tease one of her nipples, so now I'm both aroused out of my mind and salivating again. "Bite me, Silas."

Fangs descend just as I bite her neck.

The intoxicatingly potent flavor of Maven's magic sears across my tongue, and I moan, immediately drawing deeply from her as I begin thrusting again. The euphoric rush of pleasure-feeding and fucking at once sends me into an unbridled frenzy, and soon Maven is trying to muffle her cries as the headboard bangs against the wall.

Sangfluir , I think frantically, unable to control myself as I bite the other side of her neck and twist her hair in my grip. Her addictive blood drips from my chin, the scent of it pushing me into a new brand of madness.

Maven gasps abruptly. Her pussy squeezes me so fucking tight that I can't breathe as her orgasm claims her. Slamming deep and finally releasing her neck, I grit my teeth as I find my own release. The sharp wash of pleasure only cements my eternal need for her.

The newlybound buzz of voracious arousal eases slightly between us. As soon as I catch my breath and begin to think with clarity, I grimace at the sight of Maven's neck.

I lost all control, I lament in my head. I hurt you again.

My keeper smiles, her eyes alight with satisfaction. "I like it when you lose control. But if it bothers you, give it a try."

She means…try to heal her.

Licking my lips clean, I pull out and can't help the surge of satisfaction I feel watching my cum begin to leak out of her well-loved pussy. Refocusing takes a moment, but I move my hands over her neck and mutter the necromantic healing spell I memorized from forbidden books long ago.

The words taste acrid. Bitter cold sweeps through my body as my blackened fingertips tingle—but the bite wounds on Maven's neck begin to close until there are only streaks of her delicious blood remaining.

Maven's alluringly dark essence deepens, and I examine her for a moment, again trying in vain to understand what I'm sensing from her. Whatever it is, it compels me.

My keeper nods knowingly. "The necromancers used to say I emanated death. That's what you're sensing. You'll pick up on it more around fresh kills like I do. But now that you've fueled…"

She looks at the door meaningfully. My heart pounds as I raise my hand and try the handle again from this distance. To my astonishment, it slowly swings open through a crimson swirl of red blood magic.

I blink down at Maven.

"You're a hybrid caster like me now," she deduces quietly, frowning.

Clearly, she's right. But how? Is it because my keeper is so powerful? Is that what has given me this ability, or was it some other fluke of nature? Is this a flaw that will create problems for us later?

I was more than willing to sacrifice my magic for her. I was prepared to lose it all, never to open my eyes again so long as I knew she remained alive in this world—let my renowned blood magic be damned.

So, is my magic really not affected? How…anticlimactic.

Utterly strange, yet also thrilling.

A buzzing sound from a nearby dresser draws our attention, and my succulent keeper slips out of the bed to pick up an old flip phone. She checks the number.

"It's Kenzie. I tried calling her earlier to make sure her quintet is okay. She probably realized this is my burner."

When she regards me as if debating if she should leave me alone again, I put her mind at ease. "I'm capable of fending for myself, sangfluir . Apparently, more so than ever."

I'm still pissed at you for trying to sacrifice yourself for me , she sternly says through our link.

Tell me to atone with apologies between your pretty thighs again, and I will happily do so.

Her eyes flash before she slips her shirt and panties back on and leaves.