The Scholomance (41 page)

She stepped
back, although her questions hadn’t been answered. After a moment, she
remembered to bow, a gesture which made him throw back his head and laugh
again. Then he bowed, actually dropping to one knee and sweeping one arm out
with painful formality ruined by his hearty, bitter storm of laughter. When he
retreated down the tunnel to the bath, the hound he’d left behind him suddenly
stood up upon its hind legs, stood up so that it could bow to her too, a
punchline to its master’s joke. It laughed, a high and slobbering sound, and
danced on its hind feet as she watched it, then dropped to all fours and ran
away down the tunnel, still laughing and howling all together.

“Mara!”

Devlin’s mind
pummeled her. His hand grabbed for her sleeve.

She shook both
off without looking at him. “Go to class.”

“Someone said
there was a body!” he said, grabbing her again. “It wasn’t her, was it?”

“It wasn’t her.”

The laughter of
the hound shrieked up into a higher register before finally dying away. Mara
looked at her arm, but it was smooth and free of fearflesh. She rubbed her eyes
instead, frustrated and restless. “Go to class,” she said curtly. “I’m not
playing with you today.”

His hurt pricked
at her. Mara walked away from him and found a bench near the wall. She sat,
tipped her head back, and stared at the ceiling. On the other side of all this
rock, Horuseps held sway over the dining hall right this moment, and above him,
Kazuul.

He will give
thee all this mountain
…

Would he really?
She’d made a very bad mistake then, focusing her attention on the threat Kazuul
represented instead of what he could do for her. She’d been thinking of him as
another distraction all this time, a dangerous opponent with a suspicious
fixation on her that would have to be dealt with so that she could proceed. He
hadn’t left his chambers in years, by his own admission, and so no matter what
else he might be to the demons who seemed so in awe of him, he was useless to
her.

It had taken
several days and Suti’ok’s contemptuous amusement to make her realize that even
if he had no direct knowledge of Connie, his authority over the others could
open a lot of doors for her. The oversight disgusted her in a way the bloated,
disfigured corpse never could.

Be grateful
his eye is upon thee
…

And she still
didn’t trust it. Couldn’t trust it. He had to want more from her than just sex.
Plus, he was a telepath, and a far more practiced one than she, so the whole
time he was fucking her, he could be using that contact to steal around inside
her mind. She couldn’t risk it.

Didn’t she owe
it to Connie to try everything? Or was Connie just another woman in the bath,
there to be pitied only for as long as it didn’t inconvenience her?

Mara flinched,
the idea stinging so deeply, she had to look around and see if it came from
someone else. But she was alone here, except for a handful of other students
(including Devlin, still hovering at her elbow). The weapon had been too sharp
and too well-aimed to be anything but her own.

“Are you okay?”
Devlin ventured. He’d seen the flinch, damn him.

“I’m fine,” Mara
answered. She didn’t know what to make of Kazuul or his strange obsession with
her, and so she made herself set it aside for now. His motivations really
didn’t matter. She wanted to understand him only because she’d always
understood people, all her life, and now she couldn’t and it bothered her,
but—and this was a jagged pill to swallow—she didn’t get to have everything she
wanted. She wanted Connie back, as no one’s Pretty Doll and no one’s woman in
the bath. For everything else, she was just going to have to settle.

“Are you going
to come eat?” Devlin asked, plucking at her sleeve.

She hated to be
plucked at, and it wasn’t worth talking to him. Mara reached out and dug her
needles into his brain. “Go to class,” she said, and as soon as she released
him, he got up and staggered away. She didn’t watch him go. All her thoughts
were on Kazuul and they were only delays. She knew she was decided.

It was time to
stop screwing around, she thought (without any conscious grasp of the irony). She
wanted Connie back and either she was willing to do everything in her power to
find her or she wasn’t. Which was it?

“Damn it,” Mara
spat, got up, and started walking.

*
         
*
         
*

Mara climbed the
lyceum unbathed and deep in thought. There were students already milling around
on the lower levels, and higher up, she passed an unlit passage where Horuseps
at his prettiest and most beguiling played love-games with Proteus. The demon
glanced at her and sent a silent greeting as he held the man against his smooth
chest, but Mara did not answer his teasing invitation to join them. Then he
realized where she must be going, and for a moment, he teetered on the knife’s
edge of casting his playmate aside and pursuing her.

But no. Proteus
stirred from his fevered embraces, started to look around and see what had
stolen his Master’s attention, and so Horuseps seized him before she could be
seen. Seized him and pulled him deeper into the dark. She saw his pale face
receding, and then he was gone.

‘Be careful,’ he
thought at her (the thought came with the secondhand impressions of Proteus
fumbling at his/her breast, his mouth crushing his/her lips with kisses, but
Horuseps’s thoughts were cool).

Mara kept
climbing, and saw no one else. Kazuul’s hall was dark and quiet. The doors that
bore his image were shut and sealed. He did not appear when she opened them. He
didn’t meet her on the stair, and he wasn’t there when she emerged into his cold
bedchamber.

She had missed
sunset by just a few minutes she thought, approaching the aerie. There were
still a few pale streaks in the indigo skies, but that light was fading. Kazuul
had lit several candles. They guttered in the heavy Romanian wind, protected by
glass shields as cracked and neglected as the rest of this room.

He was here, she
was sure of it. She couldn’t see him or sense him, not even in the Mindstorm,
but there was a heaviness to the air, the itch of watching eyes upon her. This
time, she waited him out.

Clouds rolled
by, losing the last of their linings as the wind blew them into new shapes. There
were no stars, and only a musty smudge to mark where the moon must be. The lake
at the foot of the mountain lapped at its rocky shores. In the forest,
something screamed once. Wolves answered. It was a beautiful night.

“Another
audition?” Kazuul growled behind her.

Mara smiled. She
turned around. He stood half-in and –out of shadows, all streaks of
candlelight, sharp spikes, and scowling mouth.

“I came to be
with you,” she said.

“Ha.” He had a
cup in his hand. She didn’t see it until he threw it violently away, splashing
wine in a wide streak across the floor as the silver goblet itself banged and
rattled off into some dark corner. “And how many of my brothers didst thou
sample before thee named me champion?”

“Just you.”

He grinned at
her, a savage grin, and turned toward the aerie.

“And you didn’t
have to break anyone’s bones, you know. I had no real intention of lining
demons up and passing out numbers. The whole point of meeting with you is your
discretion.”

He glanced back
just enough to show her the glow of one green eye, the curl of his lip and one
hooked fang. “Not the whole point, I assure thee.”

She waited, but
he just stared out at the sky, and she couldn’t even feel the flow of his
thoughts much less what they were. At last, she sighed. “I came at a bad time,
I guess. I’ll come back later.”

“Hold where thou
art, woman.”

“I know you said
you weren’t up on modern courting practices, but in another minute, I’m going
to be right out of the mood and right out of your door.”

His spikes
shifted as he considered her, and then he walked away. She watched him pace
restlessly around a long table where the bones of his evening meal still lay scattered
over a silver tray, all the way to the aerie. He rested one hand on the lip of
the wall and looked down, his every impressive line edged in moonlight, and
Mara admired him, even offered up that admiration for him to taste if he
wanted, but he did not respond. Eventually, he came back to her.

“To be with me,”
he said.

“Yes.”

“In my bed.”

“If that’s where
you want me.”

He reached out
and put one arm around her, his claws sinking into her back as he pulled her
hard against him. His suspicious stare never shifted. “And thou wilt give me
every will of thee.”

“No.”

He released his
breath in a curt snarl and shoved her away, then snatched her back just as fast
and yanked her tight against his chest, enough that she could feel the steady
beating of his heart against her ribs. “I am Master here,” he growled.

“Not tonight.” She
put her hand on him and his hot stare faltered. He looked down, watching grimly
as she traveled the rough plain of his body down to the many layers of his
loincloth. “This is my game, remember? Tonight, you give yourself to me.”

“To thee,” he
said with clear distrust.

“To use however
I desire.”

His growl
softened, became something that was almost a purr. The points of his claws sunk
into her arms eased, but she didn’t try to escape his grip. When she rubbed her
palm lightly over the bulge of him, he closed his eyes. When he brought his
hand up to caress her cheek and comb down through her pale hair, she rose up on
her toes and kissed him.

His breath was
hot and stained by blood, but she kissed him anyway, pushing her tongue in to
flick at his fangs, sucking at his lips, biting when he began to kiss her back
and accepting his vengeful snap with a throaty laugh. He growled, his teeth
still pressed against her jaw, and then he drew back and licked at her,
rumbling low under his breath in increasing passion until he moved to kiss her
again.

She pulled away,
stroking him slowly through his loincloth and smiling. “So,” she said, “do I
have your will to fuck you?”

He didn’t smile
back. “How mean thee?”

“How much
clearer do I have to be?”

“Swear that thou
shalt lie beneath me and I am thine.”

“No,” she said,
and before the furious roar that stabbed up into the Mindstorm could find a
voice in him, she whispered, “I want you beneath me.”

He drew back,
his eyes sparking green fire, and now, finally, he smiled. “Shall I disrobe?”
he asked, catching the hand that moved on him and bringing it to his lips.

She raised her
arms. “Ladies first.”

Chuckling, he
took her by the sleeves and pulled the robe away in one dramatic whoosh,
unveiling her like a work of art at the gallery openings she used to attend as
a child. The robe he dropped indifferently, his gaze consuming her naked body,
not so much with passion as with triumph. Only his eyes touched her, and every
part knew that burning touch—not just her breasts and pussy and thighs, but all
of her, a radiant entirety requiring only him to complete it.

“Now you,” she
said, when he moved to embrace her.

“As thou wilt.” He
unbuckled his belt and drew the whole thing off, watching her closely and growling
victory when she smiled. “Aye,” he rumbled, reaching for her. “Even the look of
me doth please thee. Behold the proof that thou art made for my possession.”

“I’ve admired a
lot of men in my life.”

“Ere thee came
to me.” He flicked his claws, then swept her suddenly up into his arms. He
carried her like a bride to the bed, nuzzling at her naked throat. “And now
wilt thou learn thou hast known no true man before me.”

“The audition is
over,” she said, amused.

“Yet thy game
goes on.” He smiled at her, his sharp teeth gleaming, his arms like iron around
her. “And thou has sought me out for another turn upon thy board. Ha, I see thy
scheming thoughts behind the darkened windows of thy mind. Thou desirest my
shadow over thee far more than my cock within thee. Thou meanest to use my name
as a torch when thou seekest thy Ka-nee. Didst thou think I could hold thee and
never know the truth?”

“You’re still
holding me,” she observed.

“I have mine own
desires. I shall allow much to achieve them.”

“Even though you
think you know I’m lying to you.”

He put his mouth
very close to hers, enough that she could taste the blood on his lips when he
growled, “Only fuck me, Mara, and lie freely. I care not where my shadow
falls.”

He did not
simply lay her on the bed, but arranged her, just as though she were another
pillow. Mara watched with amusement as Kazuul caressed her. All his attention
appeared to be on his hands and on what little flesh lay under them. His
thoughts were swirls of erotic imagery—some of it so abstract, she couldn’t be
sure of whether she were part of it at all—and his breath came only in soft,
animal growls of lust.

“Thou art beautiful,”
he murmured, stroking her thigh. He used both hands, shaping her as a potter
with clay. When he bent to taste what he was touching, his hands immediately
dipped around to cup her buttocks and lift her into his waiting mouth. His
tongue, long and muscular, lashed up and into her without preamble. For him,
this was probably foreplay. His mouth pressed hard against her as his tongue
worked. His growls intensified in volume even as it sank in pitch, vibrating
not unpleasantly against her clitoris. He withdrew only after a thorough
sampling and then only to say, “Beautiful,” again.

“You think so?”

Kazuul raised
his head from the crux of her thighs and looked at her. His eyes were narrow,
smiling slits through which his undisguised derision assailed her. “Do not
pretend not to know it. Modesty does not impress me.”