Because right now his heart was cold ash.
If he did this, would he extinguish what Josephine felt for him? She’d seen his memories and had accepted his past—until tonight. “You’re going to be a wh.o.r.e again, only this time there’ll be no excuse for it.”
Magh’s words: “You’ve been a wh.o.r.e for so long, I thought we should make it official.”
With a smug look over the rim of her goblet, Meliai said, “I can’t wait to see your c.o.c.k. It’s supposed to be legendary.”
“It’s the only part that matters, right, dove?” As Rune removed his pants, one thought stood out: I never stopped being a wh.o.r.e.
SIXTY-ONE
Rune is ruin.
Jo paced outside the tree entryway, her hands balled into fists. She needed to go somewhere and scream. What was so weird—if she left, Rune would come find her. After. He’d told her he would never let her go, and she believed him.
Last night, before they’d made love under beckoning stars, he’d brushed his fingers over her cheekbones and a.s.sured her he had a plan B.
He’d known s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the nymph was a possibility.
A flash of a dream hit her, a snippet from his memories. He’d been sitting back in his chair in Orion’s stronghold. “If one of my tarts is stupid enough to want more,” he’d told his allies, “then she deserves all the heartache in the worlds.”
Huh. This stupid tart got what she deserves.
A beautiful blonde loitered by the entrance, watching her intently. Could that be Dalli, Rune’s “friend with benefits”? Add some more humiliation to the pile. Jo was about to tell her to go f.u.c.k herself with an oak splinter when she scented a demon.
Deshazior??
He’d just traced inside the barroom! Standing taller than everyone else, he seemed to scent her as well, lifting his face, then turning toward her outside.
Jo had a friend! “Desh!”
He grinned and traced to her. “h.e.l.lo, little luv!” He wrapped his brawny arms around her and squeezed.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you!”
“Why these tears?” He cleared his throat and backed up a step. “These black, poisonous tears?”
Oh. Blood had dried on her face. She must look like h.e.l.l washed over.
“Bet this has somethin’ to do with yer baneblood. Where’s the poxy sc.u.m?”
“With another woman.” And Jo was sitting outside, waiting like a tied-up pet, more pitiful than she’d ever been.
“He’s up there in a love nest?”
“Is that what they call them? Hi-f.u.c.king-larious.” Tonight, Rune had gone out on a limb. She laughed bitterly.
Desh’s gaze landed on her neck, her mark. “The baneblood claimed you as his mate, and he’s still with another?”
“He’s here to get information.”
Desh scratched his head with confusion. “I’m not followin’.”
Jo found herself telling him parts of the story—her fight with Nïx, her brother’s captivity, the failed attempts to overpower the wraiths—ending with: “And now I’m supposed to cool my heels while he bones Red.”
“All this to get into Val Hall? If ye wanted in, I wish ye’d come to me.”
Jo’s breath caught. “Do you know a way?”
“Gettin’ in’s the easy part. Gettin’ out’ll be the kicker.”
She grabbed his big hands, squeezing to urge him on.
“If ye fought Nïx, go surrender to her. They’ll take ye inside in a heartbeat. Ye’ll likely be dispatched to Val Hall’s dungeon, but at least ye’d be closer to yer brother.”
Thad was in a dungeon? “How do you know all this stuff?”
“I know a few Valkyries.” He scratched his chin. “And ages ago, Nïx mentioned somethin’ I was never able to figger. She says to me, ‘Demon, when ye see the girl with black tears, tell her to surrender.’ Drove me mad with curiosity, but she’d say naught else about it, seemed to have forgotten the entire conversation.”
Tell her to surrender. Yet another invitation from Nïx.
Jo had thought she’d known Rune. She had been wrong. She’d thought she needed him to save her brother.
Wrong again, girl.
His mind filled with Josephine, Rune touched Meliai by rote. He was as out of his body as he’d been with the serpent.
If the nymph noticed, he didn’t care.
Normally he would’ve been inside her by now. He could replay the last twenty-four hours with his mate to get it up, but his mind resisted that trick.
To stay hard with another, he was going to have to make a conscious effort. A conundrum. Because he couldn’t stray in the first place if he was mindful of what was happening.
His thoughts were turned inward, puzzling over his fight with Josephine. Why in the h.e.l.ls had she been that upset? She hadn’t cried when Nïx had been snapping her bones, but tonight tears had flowed.
Was Josephine so used to getting her way she’d cried out of resentment? She’d vowed she’d sleep with others, was all but making plans to drink from them. Yet another ridiculous vow. He’d never known anyone who abused them more.
In the future, while he was struggling not to become deadened in some distant covey, she’d be making besotted males come from her bite.
When Rune had claimed her, he’d thought, She drinks me alone. After tonight, she f.u.c.ks me alone.
Not quite, baneblood. No one could pleasure her more than he did—but what about his taste? What if . . . what if she preferred another’s blood? She’d never bitten anyone else.