Page 20 of Bought By the Manticore

There was no resistance. She didn’t choke or fight me. Because she had welcomed me in the dream, her sleeping body yielded. I had no need to push the vine any further. The physical touch was only the bridge I needed. I let my death energy bleed out from the stem, pouring it down her throat.

The warmth flowed straight into her chest, slipping right past the frost. It found the sickness exactly where it always hid,curled in her veins, waiting to consume her. Tonight, it was asleep, dazed by the potion. And I was not above devouring easy prey.

Methodically, I began to drink. This time, the disease couldn’t fight me. It faded into nothing, chased away by the overwhelming death energy.

I couldn’t heal her completely, not yet. But it was progress.

Ianthe’s body reacted almost immediately. While the healer’s draught had numbed her pain, I was removing the cause. A sudden, beautiful flush rushed into her pale cheeks. Her breathing quickened, shedding the slow rhythm the potion had forced on her. A soft sigh slipped past her lips, vibrating against the vine resting in her mouth.

If I’d been alive, with a real body, I would have held her face in my hands. The healer’s potion wouldn’t have been necessary at all. I would have kissed the pain away myself. But I was just a shade, relying on the little power I still possessed.

I am here,I told her, pushing the thought through the flower at her temple.You’re safe.

I drew more of my vines up from the cold floorboards. Now that her suffering had eased, I wanted to see the rest of her. I wanted to soothe the marks the sickness had left behind. Smooth, pliant stems crept silently over the edge of the mattress. Gently, I pushed the loose fabric of her sleep dress aside, baringher shoulders and her stomach to the dim light of the healing chamber.

I found the raised, angry scars on her arms where the thorns had torn through her flesh. I wrapped my broad vines around them, pouring death energy into the skin until the harsh red lines softened to a pale pink.

Another moan slipped from her throat, and she tilted her hips upward. The urge to hunt, or even to simply heal, melted into something more complex. I just wanted to worship her, to give her pleasure.

I guided a broad, smooth vine along the inside of her thigh. Even without a real body, I could almost taste her arousal. It was right there, vibrating under her skin, in the way she trembled against my hold. I rested the broad curve of the stem against her soaking-wet folds. My death energy hummed against her slick core, feeding the fire building in her blood.

She gasped, her back arching slightly off the bed. “More,” she whimpered into the dark, pressing her face into the pillow. “Please.”

I am here,I pushed the thought through the connection at her temple.

I trailed smaller shoots across her collarbone and circled the soft swell of her breasts. My leaves swept over her skin, brushing gently against her tightening nipples. She shuddered beautifully at the contact.

Caught in the heavy haze of her slumber, Ianthe let her hands drift down. Her fingers tangled with my stems, gliding over her bare stomach until she found her own slick heat. Parting her folds, she pressed her fingers directly against her aching center.

Ianthe let out a ragged, open-mouthed exhale. Chasing the surge of my energy, she stroked herself hard and fast. Her fingers coated with her own arousal, she reached for the overwhelming flood of sensation, finally able to feel something other than the pain.

I had no eyes, but through the death energy that pulsed through me, I watched every moment of it. In her surrender, Ianthe was beautiful. She always was—the most beautiful woman in the world. But there was something particularly special about this moment, about seeing her truly open herself up to me for the first time.

I silently thanked the Moirae for weaving me as her perfect match. I yearned to use my own hands to touch her, to hold her hips and feel the frantic flutter of her pulse against my own skin, my fur. But anchored as a mere shade, I knew the gratitude I felt would always be shadowed by resentment.

Why couldn’t I have met Ianthe before? Why did I have to be a scattered ghost in the dirt when the woman I was made for finally walked into my city?

I swallowed the bitter anger and focused entirely on her. My vines adjusted, weaving around her thighs to hold her exactly the way she wanted to be held. A sturdy stem wrapped aroundher waist, bracing her back against the mattress so she felt secure enough to press hard against her own hand.

“That’s it,” she sobbed softly, her eyes squeezing shut. “Don’t let go. Skaros, don’t stop.”

I will never let you go,I poured into her mind.

I matched the frantic pace of her fingers. I dragged my smooth leaves over her breasts, teasing her tight peaks while she stroked her center. With every slide of her hand, I sent a hard pulse of death energy straight into her core.

“Skaros,” she chanted around the vine resting on her tongue. Her fingers moved faster, dripping wet. She spread her thighs wider, pressing desperately against the thick stem I kept nestled between her legs.

I tightened my hold around her waist.Let it go, Ianthe. Give it to me.

She cried out. Her back bowed hard off the mattress as a violent climax ripped through her body. The pulse of her release sent a massive rush of energy straight into my roots. I drank it all. The surge filled an emptiness I didn’t even realize I carried.

She trembled, gasping for air. Her wet hand slipped away from her thighs, falling limp against the sheets. Her entire body went boneless against my stems.

I kept my vines wrapped tightly around her, thrumming softly until her shivering stopped. The slick vine slid out of her mouth, letting her breathe the cool air of the chamber. The flush on her chest slowly faded, leaving a healthy glow in its wake. She sank into a deep, restful sleep, temporarily free from the thorns and the icy grip of the draught.

I did not retreat beneath the floorboards. I pulled the blankets back up over her bare shoulders to keep her warm, but I stayed coiled beside her.

I wasn’t truly a manticore now. I was a scattered mind holding on to a woman I could not truly claim in the waking world. But as I listened to her steady, painless breathing, I knew it didn’t matter. I would stay right here, guarding my mate until dawn broke over Asphodelia.