Tale of the Necromancer by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

16

All she needed wasa piece of chalk.

A piece of chalk, and an hour of privacy.

The first was easy. The moment she was back down in Gideon’s laboratory, and he had turned his back, she had secreted a piece away into her dress.

The second?

The second proved to be the real challenge.

First, she tried simply walking away. But either Gideon found her quickly, asking what she was doing, or a servant shadowed her steps.

Then she tried feigning illness. But her husband had placed his undead vulture upon the back of a chair in their room to watch over her while she slept.

She could not seem to get a moment to herself. For the first week that passed, it was irritating. For the second week, it was infuriating. Then, it became humorous for a third. But by the fourth week, she was beginning to feel desperate. The only time she had privacy was when she bathed and sent the servants away so that she might do it herself. Even then, she suspected she was being watched.

An hour—just an hour, even perhaps a half—to herself! It was so simple, and yet so far out of her reach.

If she outright asked him for the moment’s peace, Gideon would wish to know why. And if she answered truthfully, either he would refuse her or demand to be present. Neither of which were acceptable answers. If she lied, he would see through her façade with ease, she was certain.

One month turned into two. Two turned into three. It was winter now, and it proved to be a cold but surprisingly dry one. And for what it was worth, her life with Gideon was not…bad. It was wrong—entirely wrong—but it was not bad. She watched him in his studies and learned from him, as he proved to be the avid teacher. And with each scrap of magic she learned, she felt all the more confident in performing her task.

But everything she gained from him came at an unexpected cost.

She had grown to enjoy his presence.

He was handsome, witty, and powerful. He was kind to her, gentle and sweet, and still had made no attempt to seduce her or force her to make love to him. He slept beside her, and for the first month, did not even dare to touch her.

Damn him to the pits of Hell where he belonged, the monster was…winning her. She could feel it, no matter how hard she tried to push it away. The poison was seeping into her veins. Each time he walked into the room, she found herself happier for it. When he was absent, she found herself eager for his return.

The monster was sinking his claws into her heart. Slowly and tenderly, perhaps, but the action was all the same.

And it was month eight, just as the air began to crisp with the smell of autumn, that she found herself siting on his worktable with him standing between her knees. And she was kissing him. Her body reacted to his presence with a fervor that overwhelmed every should not that had echoed in her mind.

She wanted him.

It was wrong—a perverse expression of lust that she would wager was far worse than lying with three men in exchange for safety. For the lips that worked over hers in desperation belonged to a monster. A lich. A creature she had learned did not even possess its own soul, but instead had it tucked away and hidden somewhere that Death could not reach.

And she wanted him. Needed him. Wanted him to split her wide and fill her. Wanted his hands to roam over her naked flesh and possess her.

She was going to Hell. Her soul was now doomed. And there was only one reason for it. The monster was not winning her.

The monster had won her.

I love him.

Not in spite of his darkness.

But because of it.

The thought of the creature she saw in the village looming over her, taking her, claiming her—yes, oh, yes!

Gideon tightened his hands around her waist and yanked her close to him, and she moaned against his lips at the feeling of his presence there, outlined painfully against the fabric of his trousers. His fingers dug into her, almost painfully, and the profane sound she made only grew louder and more passionate. But it was drowned out by one of his own.

I love this evil, murderous, inhuman thing before me. And I want to feel him ravage me like I deserve.

She broke away from the kiss, gasping for air, her chest heaving and her heart pounding. He chased her lips, nearly frantic that they should begin again. She had to place her fingers over his lips and chuckle at his overeager response. “I—I need to breathe, wraith…”

“Lich,” he replied in a dusky growl.

She grinned teasingly. “They are the same thing.” Needling him with her constant mislabeling of his undead species was one of her favorite games. And it was not one he seemed to mind in the slightest, despite his outward protest.

“Perhaps I should just make it easy on you.” He pulled her hips roughly to his again, grinding his body to hers, making her gasp. She needed to cling to the front of his tunic to keep from toppling over backward. “Perhaps I shall become Dr. Gideon Raithe, just for you.”

“I—ah—” She had to stop as he ground himself against her a third time, mimicking the dance he clearly wished to begin. “But Marguerite Raithe sounds—sounds terrible.”

“Hm…it does.” His hand slid to her knee and then began to work its way north up her thigh, slipping beneath her skirts. “You may stay Marguerite Valard, then.”

“How thoughtf—” Her words broke off in a cry as his hand wormed its way into her undergarments. His fingers had gone quickly to work. He banded an arm around her to hold her steady.

Nervous fear took over, and she went rigid. “Gideon, I—”

“Sshh.” He kissed her cheek. “Our first time shall not be here, surrounded by my gory work. It shall be tonight, in our bed, after a lovely dinner and a bottle of wine. But allow me, if I might…” He slipped a finger inside her slowly, sinking himself deep into her to the knuckle to the tune of her mewling whimper. “Do this much.”

As he began to slide his finger from her only to plunge it back in, she had no words with which to argue. When a second finger joined the first, he captured her cry in a kiss. Pleasure crashed through her, snapping through her veins, sending all the rest of the world away.

There was only him—the strength in his frame, the feeling of safety with his arm around her. The smell of petrichor and spices. The spiritual power she could feel beneath his skin now that she could recognize it. His kiss was insistent, possessive, and greedy. She wondered if her lips would be bruised from the embrace. If he means to devour me, to consume me, let it be like this.

Gideon Raithe was her world.

He laid her onto her back, following her down, now supporting his weight with one arm while the other hand worked between them. With more room, he sped his pace, no longer so gentle.

She found herself lifting her hips to his assault.

When his thumb stroked over her hypersensitive bud, she broke away from his lips to cry out loudly, the sound echoing off the stone walls, as everything in her body went white-hot. Ecstasy. Bliss. The end of loneliness. That was what he gave her in that moment.

She held him close as he stilled his movements and pulled his hand away from her. But he stayed over her, kissing her cheek, allowing her the space to breathe. And she was desperate for the air. With a grunt, she shut her eyes.

He chuckled.

“What?”

“You are beautiful.”

“That was not why you laughed.”

“I was pondering the simple fact that should I have known how today’s lesson was going to end, I would have begun this particular chapter earlier. Much, much earlier.”

That was funny. She chuckled. “I do see your point.”

He straightened, lifting her back to sitting, and tenderly kissed her. “You may have the rest of the afternoon to yourself. I fear what I might do if you remain in my presence. I may not have the strength of my convictions.”

She glanced around his laboratory. Filled with its jars of strange liquid, bits of human remains, skulls, and the like…no. She did not think she would want her first time to be in a place such as this.

Perhaps her second.

I am going to burn in Hell.

This was wrong. The way she felt was a perversion. She had fallen for a monster, and what did that make of her? Perhaps it was not her fault. It was fully possible he had placed an enchantment on her. Forced her to fall in love with him.

No. That could not be true. If that were the case, he would have done so the moment he laid eyes on her. He would not have waited this long. No, this aberration was all her doing.

I need to escape before it is too late for me. Or…I need advice on how to accept what I have become.

Shutting her eyes, she looked away. “May I have some privacy this afternoon? I—I tire of the constant supervision. I want to gather my thoughts in peace, if that is all right.”

“What thoughts must you gather, princess?” He tilted her head back up toward him.

His handsome expression read of worry, hope, and the affection that never left them when he gazed at her.

Her words left her in a whisper. “I need to pray to my God for forgiveness, for I have lost my heart to a monster. I find that I love you, Dr. Gideon Raithe.”

Silver orbs went wide. And then they glittered with what might have been moisture. He hugged her to him suddenly, pressing her to his chest. “Oh, Marguerite…Oh, my beautiful, my wonderful Marguerite. My princess—” He kissed her again, his desperation matched only by his joy.

Laughing against his lips, she gently urged him away. He relented, straightened his shoulders, and tugged on his clothing to straighten it.

It did nothing for the state of his trousers, however.

She opted not to tease him on the subject.

“Of course.” He smiled to her. “Take as much time as you like, my love.” Cupping her cheek, he stroked his thumb over her skin. “Tomorrow we shall start our life anew. This world will be yours for the taking. Anywhere you wish to go, anything you wish to see, it is yours.”

The impulse struck her without warning. “Istanbul. The city you grew up in.”

“Done.” He kissed her forehead slowly, holding the embrace for a moment. “Now…go on.” He took a step back. “Before I tear your dress from your body and rut you over my table like an animal.”

She slid from the table and headed toward the door. She responded without turning around, a fiendish little smile on her face. “Perhaps tomorrow before we depart.”

The strangled noise he made from behind her was one she would cherish for a long time. But now, she had her moment’s peace, and a decision to make.

Should she spare her immortal soul and seek an escape from Gideon Raithe?

Or should she accept her love for him, and his nature in turn, and stay at his side?

Evil was made of temptation. And she was sorely that.

Heading to a far corner of the castle, she found a room that sat mostly empty—there were just the two of them “living” there, after all—and shut the door. Locking it, she began to pull the furniture out of the center of the room.

The symbol she drew on the floor in chalk was one she would never forget. But simply because she remembered the complicated shapes did not mean she had Gideon’s skill in drawing it. It took her several attempts to draw the image upon the floor before she was satisfied that the universe might be able to recognize her attempt—shoddy and crude as it was.

With a long breath, she stepped into the circle.

“I need help,” she said to no one in particular. She was “stating her intent,” as Gideon told her often helped in such matters. “I do not know what to do. At first, I wished to escape. But now, I find myself longing to be in his arms and by his side. I have been corrupted by the beast, and I do not know how to cure myself of his poison. I do not even know that I can. I need to flee, but how?”

Shutting her eyes, she reached out into the world around her. She felt that rushing power that lurked beyond the veil. She stretched out a hand in front of her and called out to the one person in all the world she knew would have all the answers.

He always did.

“Father.”