Yet I arched my back, bracing the hides each time he pumped into me, his voice ragged around each satisfied sound forming at the back of his throat. Heavens, the need in those hands that gripped me with bruising strength, the unrestrained way he pounded into me, the shifting of the muscles on his stomach when I glanced back—

A tingle crested toward my nymph. “No…”

“Yes, little one. Come with my length deep inside you.” The faster I shook my head, the faster he fucked me until, pushing to the hilt, he set me ablaze. “Now! Do it! Yes… how nicely you’re gripping me. Ah, take my seed, little mortal. Mmm, yes, this needy hole wants it all.”

Heat seared through my limbs, blazing along my spine, engulfing me so completely until, with the last fading flickers, it consumed all of me. Charred me to the shame in my bones, the confusion in my mind, and the gleaming embers of rage.

What had I done?

What had he made me do?

“What creature are you?” I asked, my voice strained.

“I am your god.” The blasphemous statement didn’t register nearly as much as how he pulled out from my arse, letting a trickle of seed run down my leg. “As old as time, born from nothing, I came into existence with one purpose: to rule and rot the flesh and bone of all that lives, so I may cleanse the Earth of its remnants and command over them. Theres’s no place, my little one, where you could hide from me. Not forever.”

A curse cast by an enraged god.

What if those old tales held more truth than the priests let on? Why else would they have burned the books, eradicating any and all written proof of this god, and let time sweep away the rest?

I struggled a swallow down my throat. “So you’re no king.”

“What a predicament in terms of proper address.” He lay down next to me, pulling me against his chest as if… as if we were lovers. “Considering what just transpired between us, I believe we are beyond formalities. You may call me Enosh.”

Like the corpses in the throne. “Enosh? What does it mean?”

“Form. Some may call it appearance.” A kiss against my temple. “It is my true name.”

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Chapter 7

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Enosh

“Snap the lass’ neck and have yer brother bind her soul.” Orlaigh lowered a tray onto a stool beside the bed, filling the room with the sweetest warm apple scent. “Ye’re even crueler if ye hold her here forever alive.”

I glanced down at the mortal sleeping beside me, muscles soaking up her warmth like a seed after an age of frost. How long since I’d last touched a woman? Nearly two centuries.

“Bound corpses make poor bedmates.” Tried it once, didn’t care for it. “I much prefer her alive and warm.”

“Already the lass sleeps at the first yawn, even if she just woke. Keep her body from decaying as time ought to and ye will slowly drive her insane.”

I combed my fingers through Ada’s blonde tresses. If my little mortal woke now, she would blink up at me with bright blue eyes. Finger stiff from an old fracture, skin scattered with scars of various sizes, and a heart that beat strong albeit with a concerning irregularity… for a god formed to perfection, her imperfections fascinated me the most.

Safe for her inherent depravity.

She’d tried to run from me.

Remnants of anger surged through my core at the memory. Fingers itched to break her neck with little more than a thought and bind her soul to her body. The dead had little interest in leaving the Pale Court. Even if they wandered, they always returned to their master.

I was Ada’s master.

Her body was bound to serve me…

… in death, yes, but who was there to judge?

I shifted closer to her, veins surging with that deep-rooted yearning to rut between her legs until bone shattered around us, setting her ablaze at her core—and myself right along with it—burning so hot together that eternity would lose its dreadful meaning.

That… proved an issue.

The dead obeyed.

The living warmed.

I could not have both.

Such a frail, unpredictable thing this… mortality. Oh, how I envied man for his ability to die. Come to think, hadn’t I been created to mirror mankind? Was made of flesh and flaw?

It was only right that Ada now sated the desires of my flesh and suffered the crimes of my flaw—utter possessiveness.

My little mortal had come to me.

And I would keep her.

For eternity.

If it came at the cost of her sanity, then so be it. Nothing the God of Whispers couldn’t ease in exchange for me to keep his harem of corpses smelling fresh.

“She shows no fear toward the dead.” Not like Njala had, ever so displeased with the Pale Court, no matter how I’d shaped it to her wishes. “No disgust.”

“It’s the world ye created with yer absence.” Orlaigh glanced back at where I tugged a fur higher over my little one. “She’s a bonnie lass. Has her wits about her for the most part. And we both ken she’ll run from ye, and I dinnae blame her.”

And she might succeed.

Ada had marked the bone from chamber to throne room, had taken detailed assessments of the gates, and had quickly discovered the miserable state of my corpses. Over the span of eternity, opportunities for escape would abound.

The thought alone filled my veins with anguish that clenched my teeth. It coursed through me so rapidly, already her neck offered itself to break. Until she inhaled and a handful of breasts pressed against me, their warmth coercing me into a state of… calmness.

No, I very much wanted her alive.

But how to keep her from running?

The word promise echoed, but I quickly banished it from my mind. A mind so stuffed with memories of pacts, vows, and pledges sworn by mortals—most broken within the first decade. What good would it do to offer Ada certain freedoms for her promise to remain by my side, ever so faithful?

Nothing.

Oh yes, my little mortal would pledge her loyalty and love, swear an oath from the sweetest of lips, and then she would break it. She would run from me. Abandon me to eternity, my wicked, wayward mortal.

The past had taught me no different.

“I could keep age from her flesh and break her legs in three places.” An acceptable compromise, buying me ample time to chase her down should she ever escape my kingdom.

Orlaigh shook her head and laid out the dress I’d made for my woman, braided from the softest of hairs. “If ye want the lass to hate ye even more, breaking her other bones is the way to go about it.”

Whatever else would I want?

Love?

My breathing hitched at the thought and panic clawed my chest when it no longer expanded with Ada’s inhale, robbing me of her warmth. Of all the things existence had cursed me with, my ability to love was the worst torture—second only to my inability to die.

No, the vicious sentiment of mankind was neither needed nor desired, for I would claim all parts of her form, again and again, until we were so consumed with each other that love paled in comparison.

Besides… “Twisted. I merely twisted them.”

“Ye hurt her.”

My muscles tensed. I despised pain, but my woman had left me no choice. That mankind had apparently demoted me from god to king beyond the Æfen Gate didn’t bode well, and so, I’d had to make a point.

“She’s waking.” This close to her, I sensed it so strongly: heart beating slightly faster, ears twitching at the sound of my voice, body temperature rising. “Did you bring enough honeyed milk for the both of us?”

Orlaigh raised a brow. “Ye want… milk?”

I offered her a stare that invited no further remark, thumb stroking over Ada’s side to rouse her quicker, no matter how I envied her for this mortal need. “How blessed she is in her ability to sleep away half of eternity.”