Page 13 of Bought By the Manticore

Thanatos’s Temple

Skaros & Ianthe

As I’d hoped, Aion had done his job. It had taken him a while—he’d gone back to his quarters to retrieve the scroll first—but in the end, the delay made no difference. He’d successfully carried my petal into the snake-woman’s chambers.

My mate was there, waiting for me. She wasn’t aware of it, not yet, but she would be, soon enough.

I didn’t pay much attention to the conversation between Aion and Ianthe. A part of me envied him, resenting the priceless gift he’d offered. I was the one who should be lavishing her with extravagant welcome offerings. But I wasn’t in a position to give her much. And Aion had a mate already, so he wasn’t a threat.

“We can afford to be generous,”he’d told Theron. Maybe I could be generous, too, and allow him to get close to my mate.

And then, Aion was gone, and my petal was in Ianthe’s hand. Her touch was so gentle, almost as if she could feel the life hidden within my asphodel.

When she spoke to me, I wanted to reply. I hadn’t been the one to guide her to Asphodelia, no. But now that she was here, I’d be the one to protect her.

No words came. I couldn’t speak to her. She was as unreachable to me as Aion and Theron were. But in her case, I wasn’t willing to stop fighting. Not ever.

Ianthe placed me on her pillow and focused on her scroll. I had a task of my own.

The petal had gotten me past the defenses of the snake-woman. But it was still only a small piece, an infinitesimal presence that could easily be erased.

Fortunately, the death crystals in the infirmary were the perfect solution to that. They were everywhere, in the walls, on the ceiling, and especially hidden under the floorboards.

The death crystals here had been engraved with special enchantments that helped the creatures of Thanatos heal. Death-touched brides thrived under this type of care. Or… Most did. For Ianthe, things were a little more complicated. At least, until now.

I can do this. I am Skaros, and I am her mate.

With a thought, I willed my consciousness to surge into the sole petal on Ianthe’s bed. It was difficult. For months, I’d been spread out throughout the entire city. Focusing on one part of me alone felt like tearing myself to pieces. But it worked, and I became a little more present within the petal.

Ianthe was oblivious. She set the scroll aside and grimaced, clutching her wrist tightly. “Of course you wouldn’t even let me have this. Accursed Thorn-Sickness.”

The illness rumbled under her skin, desperate to gorge on her flesh and blood. Ianthe twitched but didn’t complain. She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes.

As she drifted into slumber, her hand traveled over the pillow, toward the petal. If I’d had a mouth, I’d have roared in anguish. I couldn’t touch her, not really, nor could I cling to her. Instead, the fragile portion of my being slid down the sheets, onto the floor.

The distance hurt, and my savage instincts awoke, more powerful than ever before.

Eat. Eat. Consume everything that isn’t her. Everything she doesn’t need.

The crystals were right there, so close it felt like a blessing. Their energy responded to mine naturally, the same way everything inAsphodelia did. The connection was so potent the basalt floor cracked, leaving me free to act as I pleased.

I needed to be careful, because if I was not, the meat would stop me. At the very least, I had to leave enough crystals behind so that the snake-woman wouldn’t notice I was here.

It was easier than expected. With painstaking effort, I turned my petal into a full plant and dug my roots deep into the crystals. From here, I would feed. From here, I’d make sure I had enough power to stay by my mate’s side.

But the form of a flower didn’t come naturally to me. I had been fangs, venom, and fur. Once, I’d had a tail with a stinger. I couldn’t do anything about the fur, but perhaps the rest of it… Yes, it could work.

The Thorn-Sickness was still working its way through Ianthe’s body, its rumble getting louder, more insistent. Its voice wasn’t as clear to me as that of the asphodels, but it was there, regardless.“Live, live,”it said, over and over.“Grow, grow.”

It didn’t mean to kill. It didn’t mean to hurt. But it didn’t know the difference between its own survival and the death of its host. Not like I did.

And so, it needed to be erased.

My body morphed into a single, thick vine. I slithered back onto the bed, underneath the blanket, and over Ianthe.

In her sleep, Ianthe stirred and let out a small sigh. It wasn’t one of pain. It was one of… relief? She could feel me, too. I knew it.

The Thorn-Sickness trembled underneath her skin. It knew a greater predator was out to hunt it. Even lacking true awareness, it was afraid.