Born of Blood and Ash

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Wrapped in a deep violet robe with pretty embroidery and pearls, I sat on the balcony’s daybed, staring up at the star-strewn night sky, despite it being cold enough to need to tuck my legs beneath the heavy folds of the robe. The chill in the air made me think that snow may soon fall.

An entire day had passed since Ash coaxed me out of my nota, and we’d spent most of that time sleeping—actually, he was still sleeping. Both of us were exhausted to a bone-deep level and were lucky things were quiet, giving us time to rest. I couldn’t sense the true Primal of Death. It was like before he’d awakened from stasis the last time. I felt nothing, no intuition concerning his current state. I had to assume he was still in stasis.

That allowed me to relax. A little. I should be resting, too, but when my eyes had opened, memories of what I’d done came to the forefront, and I hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep.

So, here I sat, watching the guards patrol the Rise, thinking about everything Ash had said. He’d been right. A thousand tomorrows would come, and I would still carry the guilt with me. Sure, it would lessen as time passed, and I accepted it.

But it would always be there, haunting the back of my mind like the spirits lingering in the Dark Elms, refusing to cross over.

And that wasn’t the only thing haunting me.

When we were awake earlier, it had only been long enough to eat and for Ash to check in with the others. He hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes—I honestly didn’t think he’d even left the fourth floor. But when he returned, his flesh was noticeably warmer. Ash had given me his blood then, which was why I was sitting outside, possibly turning into a Primal ice cube.

I remembered what I’d learned before…everything happened.

Ash had been feeding from Rhain.

A shaky breath left me, and I closed my eyes. That wasn’t the only thing I’d been thinking about, though. What I’d done occupied my thoughts, as did what Ash had said to me. He had been right. I had to face it, accept it—even though it would be painful—and live with it. Accepting it also meant facing a harsh truth about myself.

And what I’d been through.

Not just with Kolis but also with Tavius and my training. I forced myself to sit with it just like I had that day in the library. To acknowledge things I hadn’t shared with Aios. Moments I’d convinced myself weren’t happening when they were, and still pretended to this very moment hadn’t occurred. But no amount of refusing to acknowledge what had really taken place when Kolis fed from me stopped the truth from haunting the farthest recesses of my mind or finding me in sleep.

When Kolis bit me the second time, he hadn’t just held me as he found pleasure. I counted my breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

He had touched me as he fed from me. He’d held me in his lap, my feet unable to touch the floor, and the hand that skimmed over the fucking poor excuse for a dress had slipped under.

My hands were clenched as tightly now as they had been then. No matter how far I had retreated in my mind as part of him invaded me, my subconscious still remembered. My body could still feel the rough, scalding jab of his fingers. Mentally, I hadn’t been there when it happened, but a part of my soul had been there every single fucking day since. And telling myself it could’ve been worse no longer helped. Saying that it wasn’t assault just because he’d used his fangs and fingers instead of his dick didn’t change that it was. It didn’t change who I was. Didn’t change that I had been a victim.

My nails dug into my palms as I counted. One, two, three, four, five. Being a victim wasn’t a weakness, a stain, or something to be ashamed of. All those ugly things were bestowed upon the victimizer. That wasn’t on me.

“Sera.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of Ash’s voice. I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t heard him walk out onto the balcony or felt how close he was, standing only a few feet from me.

His hair lay free, brushing his bare shoulders and that hard-as-granite jawline. He moved as if to come closer but halted, his eyes burning brightly under the starlight. “What are you doing out here, liessa?”

I swallowed. “Thinking.”

He stared at me intently, like he did every so often, and I suspected he was checking to see if all the bruises had faded. Most of them had. Just a few pale blue ones remained, and I knew it bothered him. The bruises should be completely gone by now, and I was willing to bet I would be having a one-on-one with the Healer tomorrow if they weren’t.

“And freezing while doing so?” he said finally.

A wan smile tugged at my lips. “It’s not that cold.” My gaze moved, taking in the hard-packed muscles of his chest and abdomen. Even his feet were bare. “I have far more clothing on than you do.”

“Good point,” he acknowledged with a tilt of his head. “But I don’t feel the cold like you do.”

It was strange that Kolis now felt as cold as Ash, but Kolis’s frigidness hurt to come into contact with. Ash’s never did. My gaze swept over his face. There were still faint shadows of weariness under his eyes.

His chest rose with a deep breath. “How long have you been awake?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced at the sky, seeing no hints of dawn. “A couple of hours.”

Concern flickered across his features. “You’ve been out here this whole time?”

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

“I’d rather you had awakened me.” He came forward then, sitting beside me.

“You’re tired, Ash, and you need your sleep. The fact that you didn’t wake up when I left is evidence of that.”

“You need your rest, too.” His gaze dropped to my hands in my lap. “More so than I do.”

Ash reached over and picked up my hands. He carefully straightened my fingers, stiffening when he saw the three little crescent-shaped marks on each of my palms left behind by my fingernails.

“Liessa,” he murmured, and my heart ached as he lifted my hands and brushed his lips over the fading marks.

As he smoothed calloused thumbs over my palms, I had a feeling I was projecting a whole mess of emotions onto him. And it was a mess because I felt everything right now. Sorrow. Anger. Nervousness. I knew I needed to talk to Ash. Really talk. But there was nothing easy about that for me. I was never the talking type. I hadn’t been raised that way. It wasn’t an excuse. It was just the truth. When it came to something important, I could rehearse everything I wanted to say a hundred times, but the moment I opened my mouth, something entirely different came out. Even more so when it came to this.

But I had to.

Because what I’d gone through was slowly chipping away pieces of me. Eventually, I would be left with nothing.

“It’s not true, you know.” I stared at our hands. “I don’t need more rest than you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I fed from you a handful of hours ago,” I said.

He said nothing, opting to kiss my palms again. Then he placed my hands back in my lap and rose. He went to the railing and leaned against the shadowstone. The muscles along his shoulders bulged as he eyed a guard in the distance. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about while sitting out here?”

“Yes, and no. I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff.”

He faced me. “You going to tell me what you’ve been thinking about?”

Talk to me.

That’s what he always said. When I didn’t, he didn’t push, except for the night of the sekya attack. I doubted he would push now. I wanted to talk. Needed to. I just didn’t know where to start because this—all of this inside me—hadn’t been birthed into creation when Kolis captured me. It had started long before then.

Ash drew in a heavy breath and pushed away from the railing. “Will you at least come back to bed with me?”

My gaze flew to his, and my chest seized. Words bubbled up, shaken free. Ones I had only ever shared with Nektas. “I tried to end my life once.”

Ash’s entire body jerked back, and he bumped into the railing. “What?”

Part of me couldn’t believe that was where I’d started—that I had just hurled that at him with no warning. He hadn’t been prepared to hear it. The shock in his expression was proof. “I’m sorry. I probably should’ve given you some sort of heads-up on that.”

Ash stared at me. His hands had returned to the railing, and he held on to it as if he needed the support.

I looked away from his hands, focusing on mine. “I drank a vial of sleeping draft—far more than necessary. And convinced myself for so long that it was accidental. That it wasn’t on purpose. But…” My nose and eyes stung. “It was. I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Why?” he asked hoarsely.

“I don’t know,” I said with a shaky sigh and peeked up at him. His eyes were closed tightly. “That’s not entirely true. There wasn’t one reason. I don’t think there was even one reason—specifically what he believed my fate to be—for why my father took his life. It’s never that simple.”

A spasm ran through him, and his lashes lifted. When he spoke, his voice sounded as choked as mine felt. “When did you try that?”

“I know what you’re thinking. That it’s because you rejected me.”

His jaw clenched. “That wasn’t a reason?”

“It doesn’t matter, Ash. You’re not responsible for that. Just like I know I’m not responsible for my father, even though I spent most of my life feeling like I was. I just…I felt like I was failing everyone and myself. I didn’t like who I was because I was no one. I was this blank canvas, taught to act and behave like someone. To not really have feelings. Like I couldn’t be mad or even happy. I was just to be whatever I needed to be.” I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop myself. “But I wasn’t good at that, so I had to pretend how my mother acted didn’t affect me. I made myself okay with the fact that no one, except Odetta and Holland, really touched me. I just had to deal with Tavius and him thinking he could do whatever he wanted to me.”

My fingers curled inward again. “I couldn’t refuse training, whether it came to mastering a sword or seduction, and I had no one, not even Holland, that I could really talk to.”

“This training? To seduce?” Ash sounded like each word cut his throat to speak. “How old were you when it began?”

“Not old enough to be able to deal with it,” I admitted quietly. “I was scared at first. I remember begging Holland to not let me go, but…” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “That part of my life was so…weird.”

“I can think of a better word than weird,” he bit out.

“I mean, I felt embarrassed to be doing the things I was being taught and didn’t know how to feel about it. Sometimes, it felt good, but it…it also felt wrong.”