Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles Book 5) (28 page)

In one, I kept a cherished remembrance. . . .

Then I started making some real changes. His sole piece of furniture was a carved sleigh bed. I directed my vines to move more pieces in. Soon my laptop sat charging on the new bedside table.

His ceiling and walls were solid black, the floor black marble. I figured a couple of the walls should be mine. On one, I created a vertical garden, styling blooms into a red infinity symbol. I began decorating the other wall using paint he’d sourced for me.

As I moved my brush, I wondered how he would react to all this. I hoped by kissing me.

On the many occasions I’d watched him training in his leather pants and chain-mail shirt, I’d lusted over him. And I’d had sensual dreams of him that hadn’t arisen from the past. In one, I’d run my lips over all the runes on his chest, tracing them with my tongue before descending.

Now that I was married, there were things I wanted to try, things I’d heard about from Mel and other girls in school. And since I’d vowed to myself to have no regrets . . .

God, if Aric only knew what I was imagining right now.

I’d just finished up when I heard his spurs down the hall. His footsteps slowed. He must’ve smelled the blooms and the paint.

He opened the door. He was sweating and streaked with mud, looking so magnificent he temporarily blanked my thoughts.

His gaze swept over my changes: my gown tossed over his armor, my new garden and artwork. In the center of a black wall, I’d painted a huge white rose.

Like his banner.

His lips curled, and his eyes went starry. “You moved in?”

“I take it you’re okay with the plan?”

“Delighted.” He crossed to stand before me, then cradled my face in his hands. “I didn’t want to pressure you. And I didn’t know if you would want to officially mourn.”

So old-fashioned. Which, considering his age, was understandable. “I thought you wanted your privacy.”

He exhaled. “My own doing. I was an ass about that when I first forced you to live here.”

I couldn’t argue with him on that score. “I also worried that you might like sleeping in your bed alone.”

“That bed is four hundred years old, which means I’ve spent a lot of time in it fantasizing about you. Once I have you there again, I suspect I will have little control at first. I was attempting to be a gentleman and refrain, so the couch seemed a safer bet.”

“We can’t wait for anything. I’m greedy for time with you.”

He grinned as he ran his thumb over my forehead. Had I smudged paint there?

“Neither of us has experience with this,” I said. “But if you ever have questions, talk to me, okay? If you ever need something, you have to let me know.”

Nod. “If you will talk to me as well.”

“I promise.”

His tone grew husky as he added, “At present, I do have an urgent need.” His deep voice made my heart race.

I wetted my lips. “What’s that?”

“To wash this paint off my wife.” He leaned down and took my mouth. How could I have already gotten so addicted to his kiss? He slanted his mouth, deepening the contact.

Between kisses, we somehow managed to strip each other and make it into the shower. We washed and explored.

His rough hands on my breasts. My palms gliding over his chest and lower.

I nuzzled his runes and licked the skin. As I had in my dream, I followed the slashing marks down.

He realized my intention, and a gust of breath left his lips. Eyes aglow, he threaded his fingers through my hair. The lower I went, the more his hands shook on my head. His breaths grew hoarse.

When I kissed, he gave a yell and bucked. Agonized sounds burst from his chest because
I
was sending him into the throes. Emboldened, I took him between my lips.

“Sievā,”
he brokenly rasped. “
Sievā!
Gods almighty!”
Yet even as his body quaked, he reverently caressed my face with the backs of his fingers. . . .

_______________

“You told me we would rewrite history,” he said as I lay against his chest later that night.

I was tracing his runes, relaxed and languid. Though he’d never had sex before me, he must’ve noted some wicked tricks over his long life.

My fingertip glided over a tattoo. “I dreamed of kissing these, following each one down your body. Even when I hated you, I had sexual dreams about you.”

“Welcome to my entire existence,” he said wryly. “When I got these marks, I never imagined they would guide your beautiful lips toward my delight. Tell me, was that a stray impulse?”

“I was imagining it as I painted the wall.”

“Again, you premeditated!”
I slapped his chest, and he chuckled. “If you give me the name of the contraceptive shot you had, I will source for more of them. I am keen that nothing interrupts our enjoyment of each other.” His tone indicated the understatement of the millennium.

“It’s called Depo-Provera. It’s supposed to last three months or so, and Paul has a few more doses.” When he’d injected me, I’d said, “The idea of living another three months feels far-fetched right now.” He’d replied, “Better safe than sorry, huh?”

Aric nodded. “I will be on the lookout for it.”

“You are not going
anywhere
without me, Reaper. The sooner you accept this as fact, the easier your life will be.” Husband training a two-millennia-old man was going to be a challenge.

Aric raised a brow at that. Then, seeming to make a decision, he eased me aside to get out of the bed. “I have something for you.” As he strode to our closet, I gawked at the sight of his flawless body.

The return view was even more rewarding.

He sat beside me and handed me a small jewelry box. “I want you to have this.”

I opened the box, finding a gorgeous gold ring, engraved with runes that called to mind his tattoos. An oval of amber adorned the band.
Beautiful.
The warm color reminded me of his eyes whenever he was pleased.

“It was my mother’s.” He took the ring out. “I never gave this to you in the past. But would you honor me by wearing it now?”

I nodded breathlessly. “Yes.”

“My homeland was famous for amber—from pine.” He slipped the ring on my finger, and it fit perfectly. Holding my gaze, he said, “We are wed now.”

First priest I find, I’m goan to marry you.
Jack’s words. I recalled the love blazing from his gray gaze before I stifled the memory. “Aric, th-this is so beautiful. Thank you.”

“I’m pleased you like it.” He lay down again, pulling me against him.

I laid my palm over his heart, gazing at my wedding ring. “Of all the stones . . .” The symbol of his parents’ marriage had been derived from trees. Another waypoint.

“The amber’s significance wasn’t lost on me.” He grazed his fingertips up and down my back.

I bit my bottom lip. “I don’t have a ring for you yet.” However, I did have an idea where to get one. . . .

“I would wear yarn tied around my finger if it told the world I was taken by you.”

“If I’m your lawfully wedded wife, shouldn’t you call me by my name?” He parted his lips to speak, but I cut him off: “You’re about to tell me that my ever-changing names don’t matter, and maybe they didn’t in the past. But Evie is the Empress who was smart enough to give you a shot. E-V. Just toss the idea around and get back to me.”

He grinned. “I will toss the idea around.”

“And one more thing,” I told him. “I want you to read my chronicles.”

His hand stilled. “You mean that.”

“Of course. Even though I’m worried they’ll make you hate me again.”

“Impossible.”

Then I recalled some of Aric’s recent barbs. “On second thought, I should probably hold them back—since I’m not in your alliance and all.”

“What are you talking about?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “With Circe.”

“I was wondering if I could get a rise out of you.”

Rise and walk.

“For the record, you and I are not allies,” he said. “We are one entity now. Everything that is mine is yours.”

In a quiet tone, I asked, “Is my need for revenge yours as well?”

“Yes, I vow to you we will kill the Emperor. Which means training for you. Be careful what you wish for,
sievā
.”

“Strike with both,” Aric snapped, swatting my ass with the flat of his sword.

I was pouring sweat, exhausted, and in
no mood
.

“The oak and the vines—at the same time. Come now, wife, I’ve seen you do this before. I’ve
felt
you do this before.”

I put my hands on my knees, gazing at the oak I’d barely managed to grow, much less control. Between breaths, I said, “I think this is . . . one of those situations . . . where actions look easier . . . than they are.”

He expected me to practice on him. And he was too freaking quick. That hadn’t been the first time he’d swatted me.

The man hadn’t been kidding when he’d promised training. Every day for the last month, drizzle or downpour, he would escort me to the yard and then push me to the limit.

He pointed his sword toward the river. “Circe is brimming, and Fauna builds her army. If you want the Emperor dead, you must become stronger as well.”

The Priestess’s moat grew broader and deeper by the day, overflowing more of the countryside, creeping up the mountain. We were officially an island.

Lark continued breeding her creatures, our island population swelling.

Aric and I helped with them whenever she searched for Richter and Finn. She still hadn’t lost hope that she’d find him. He might have died, but without the Arcana calls, we couldn’t know.

Aric and I had recently delivered Maneater’s litter of six war-wolves. Lark said Scarface was the father, but I refused to believe it. I’d told Cyclops, “You old dog, you’ve still got it going on, don’t you?”

Though I’d cooed at the (huge) squirming bundles, Aric’s gaze had gone distant. “She grows more formidable each day.”

Now I waved at the castle, telling him, “I’m not doing too shabby with my powers.” Ivy and roses draped the walls. Inside, vines ran along every hallway, climbing over ceilings. Past Circe’s moat, my thorns covered acres of uplands. They would act as more sentries—because I could sense through them—and possibly help ensnare an advancing Bagger army.

Yet something was definitely
off
with my abilities. Had been for a while. They seemed muted.

Aric rested his sword over his shoulder. “But you can do more.”

I straightened. “Like you? You’re faster and stronger than ever before.” Each time I watched him train in his sexy chain mail, with his sword raised as he controlled his massive warhorse, I would disbelieve he was mine. The actual Grim Reaper.

Whenever he caught me checking him out, he would cast me a smoldering look, his eyes promising wicked things for later. He always delivered. . . .

Now he yanked off a glove to cup my cheek.
Never enough touch.
“I attribute my strength to you. Now I have something to protect.”

In return for everything Aric had given me, I showered him with affection. If he’d been arrogant before, now he was growing breathtakingly cocky.

He’d begun to change in other ways as well. He no longer drank, unless the two of us shot vodka. He grinned a lot. Even laughed.

All he’d needed was a companion, someone to call his own. The Endless Knight had been no more equipped to handle solitude than I would be.

Circe had commented, “He’s
disgustingly
happy, Evie Greene. As if he’s not even an Arcana anymore. It grows
embarrassing
.”

I was succeeding in at least one of my missions. Making Aric content distracted me from grief. From the past. Whenever we had sex, I lost myself in him, finding oblivion, my mind blanking. . . .

He gazed down at me now. “I will
always
protect you.” He’d told my grandmother that before she’d died. Like Jack had died. And my mom.

Aric leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

Oblivion.
I sighed, going soft against him.

But when he deepened the kiss, I somehow remembered to draw back. We tried not to flaunt our relationship in front of Lark’s creatures or Circe’s river.

“Very well, little wife. I’ll endeavor to wait until tonight. Seems you’re more in the mood for training.”

I almost groaned.

He stepped back from me. “Throw the seeds from your pocket and grow them in midair.”

“No way. I’m not strong enough for that right now.” I would pass out.

In a measured tone, he asked, “Why do you think that is?”

“Aric, what if those Bagman bites . . .” I hesitated, then said in a rush, “permanently damaged my powers?” There. My secret fear was out.

He shook his head. “Not a chance. You wouldn’t be this healthy overall. You have boundless energy when you dance.”

A few times a week, I would dance for him in the studio—which usually landed me back in our bed as soon as my skin grew damp from exertion. “Then what is it?”