Page 69 of The Blight of Hollowmire

She does not answer. I prop myself up on one elbow, trying to turn to better see her face, but it is hidden behind the silky fall of her hair. Perhaps it is the hour, or the exhaustion that never seems to fade, but again, I would swear that her antlers have grown even bigger.

A cloud passes over the moon, shrouding our room in darkness once more. I reach out and place a gentle hand on Vireth’s shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort if this be another night terror for her—and quickly pull my hand back, lest I burn my fingers. Her skin is so feverish, it might as well be aflame.

“Vireth,” I say. “We must find a healer for you!”

I begin to rise from the bed to fetch a cool cloth, but she slowly turns to face me. In the dark, I cannot make out much beyond the silhouette of her head and antlers against the backdrop of starlight, but already I sense something is deeply wrong. Her eyes glow white, but she has no pupil or oxblood iris.

With a strength I find alarming, she gently—but firmly—pushes me back into the straw mattress. Before I can utter a word of shock or protest, she swings one leg over me, settling on top of my waist in a position of utmost intimacy. I suck in a breath, desperate to focus on anything but the heat of her sex against my rapidly hardening cock.

“Renard,” she whispers, her voice like a frigid wind through a field of reeds.

I grip her hips, intent on moving her off of me, but she snatches my wrists and pins them above my head in an iron grip.

“Gods,” I swear. “What has gotten into you?”

“Godss. Yessss,” she drawls, the sound halfway between a hiss and a moan. “I can tell you long to be inside this body, too, honorable knight.”

She punctuates this sentence with a slow roll of her hips, the movement coaxing the ever-warm embers of my lust to a full, desperate, destructive inferno.

“By the gods, you must stop—you are not yourself,” I grunt, determined to master my baser instincts that demand I shuck my breeches and sink into her ready heat. “I’ll not press my advantage when you haven’t the sense to know what you’re doing. Whatever spirit has ownership of your body, leave her at once!”

“We cannot and we shall not,” Vireth whispers. “So many things in this realm must be corrected. So many things must be undone. So much of this world yearns for release. Even our Vireth. Do you not long to be undone by her? Do you not wish to release her?”

The thing puppeting Vireth pulls my hand forward and places it on her breast, then slides it down her soft abdomen to her sex. No amount of strength seems to help me to pull away, and I grimace at how wretchedly excited my body has become. Every fiber of my being wants this, and the spirit inhabiting Vireth seems to know so.

Vireth leans forward, pressing her breasts against my chest and inhaling at the crook of my neck. My heart thunders in my ribs, determined to beat the rest of my body into submission. Relent, it beats. Relent. Relent. Relent.

“Why do you bind yourself to her fate? What do you want from the rot-tainted one—from this lost princess of Hollowmire?”

Lost princess? Starving ravens. That will almost certainly complicate matters further—I’ve no wish to run afoul of a fae king and queen. She is no idle lady-in-waiting, but of royal blood. My ire rises that she kept such a truth from me, but given all I’ve hidden from her, I am hardly fit to judge.

“I wish to help her,” I rasp. “I owe her a debt of honor, and I want to see this through with her. She deserves that much, at least.”

“Mmm,” she hums. “Is that all you think she deserves? Resolution?”

One of her hands slips beneath my breeches and grips my shaft—I’m helpless to stop the whimper that spills from my lips. Vireth chuckles, the seductive sound curling through my body until I’m dizzy with need.

“Shall I have her show you what she thinks of you, honorable knight?” she says softly, trailing her lips down the skin of my neck. “How ferociously she desires you? How she dreams of your hard cock filling her over and over again? Shall I have her take from you what she really wants? What she deserves?”

“No! If they are her desires, let her speak them to me herself. She does not deserve this violation of her desires—of her privacy. Tell me your name, spirit, that I may banish you from her and allow her her rest,” I growl.

Another deep chuckle. Vireth’s tongue darts out to lick my neck and her fingers slowly stroke my cock.

“Do you think to protect her from herself? From her own desires? From yours, human?”

“If I must,” I whimper, forcing my hips still, despite the instinct to thrust into her hand—to chase a climax I’m desperate for. “I will not take what isn’t freely given—be it mind, body, or heart.”

“What about her life?”

The question chills some of the ardor in my veins.

“Her life?” I echo. Arden’s words ring through my mind. Kill the Blight Mother. Break the curse.

“Mm, you think I do not know? That I do not see? I’ll leave you with these words, honorable knight. Think on the prophecy. I would caution you against the path you set forth on. Spilled blood does not undo what you think it does—and you cannot kill me in any way that matters.”

With those words, she bites down on the tendon between my neck and shoulder. Fear climbs through my body, siphoning the last of my strength. The Blight Mother. Here—now—controlling Vireth. I’m about to cry out when the pressure eases, and Vireth collapses on top of me.

When she lifts her head, her eyes no longer glow and her posture is loose with sleep.