“Next time,” he breathes. He puts his fingers beneath my chin and presses his cold lips to mine. “My deliciae, my Rhona. I had forgotten how wonderful it is to be wanted.”
I open my mouth to say that’s not what I meant but he covers my lips with his again, his cold tongue sliding into my mouth.
What would the villagers say if they could see us now, me in the arms of the necromancer? His mouth on mine. His cold hands squeezing my breasts.
Sorcerer’s slut.
I draw away from him with a shiver. “You’re so cold. Are you dead?”
His expression is rueful. “I am a little dead, and a little cursed.”
I wonder how a person can be a little dead, and a little cursed, but he seems lost in thought, his arms tight around me. I let my cheek rest against him, enjoying the cold strength of his body. No one can see. No one will call me names if I let him hold me in secret.
“I will find a way to make her mine, my virgin bride,” he says to himself. “I must find a way, now that I know how much she wants me.”
From that day onwards Meremon touches me every chance he gets, gently pulling me into his arms first thing in the morning and kissing me and wrapping his body around mine from behind as we work in the lab. His cold hands and mouth are tender on my skin and I find myself torn between wanting him and fearing what he’s doing to me.
One afternoon he slowly rucks my skirt up and runs his finger along my sex, back and forth, while I pant with need. I open my legs for him and he whispers in my ear how sweet I feel as he rubs slow circles on my pearl. My back is tight against his chest as he holds me to him with one strong arm. When I shatter he buries his face in my neck and crushes me against him, and I only want him to hold me tighter.
Being in his arms is the sweetest feeling I’ve ever known, but with each embrace the guilt becomes worse.
Finally one morning I push him away. “Enough. I am not here for this. There are people in my village who are sick, including my own sister.”
He lifts my left hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. I have the impression he’s not listening to me as his eyes are on the swell of my breasts beneath my gown. “It is too soon.”
I snatch my hand back. “I don’t believe you! I think you’re lying to keep me here.”
If I make him angry with this accusation he doesn’t show it. Instead he sits down on one of his work tables and scoops me into his lap. With gentle fingers he smooths the hair off my neck and plants a row of kisses there. “Nonsense, my Rhona. I am the only sorcerer in these parts. I refuse no request for help.”
“People have died in the village from magical diseases these past few years and you didn’t help them,” I point out, trying to wriggle of his lap but failing.
He keeps kissing my throat, murmuring, “No one told me they were sick. You are the first person to ask for my help since your father came to me about you.”
I realize he’s right. No one dared go up on the mountain after he marked me. They were too afraid what he would do to them.
“I still feel like we should go now. It’s not right that they lie ill while…” While you make me feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world. I’ll see in their eyes how despised I really am as soon as we go down into the village so it’s better we go now before I start believing the way you make me feel.
“I told you, deliciae. I’m not a healer. A necromancer is only of use to a sick person once they are truly dying. Do you remember all that black in your veins that I spat out into the fire? It was your death and the sickness mixed together, which was how I was able to draw the sickness out. I was just in time. I found you and saved you in the same moment.”
“Please don’t say such things,” I moan.
Meremon starts to work on the lacing of my dress. “But why?”
“Because my heart isn’t strong enough to resist them.”
His hand slips inside my dress and splays across my breasts. “I don’t want you to,” he breathes in my ear. I lean back against him, my eyes closing. He goes on murmuring soft words and fondling me. “I’ve thought of a way to satisfy you properly. Can I do that, deliciae?”
“You are asking this time?” I say, breathing hard as his thumbs rub firmly over my nipples. He wants to take me to bed. I should say no because though he calls me his bride I am not his wife and never can be. As soon as the children in the village are healed I must return, because my life is there.