Page 215 of Ashen Torment
“Well?” Lucien insists. “Who is it?”
I reach toward the saucer already on the desk, the silver spoon clinks as I take it. I untie the twine and twist the lid. The scent seems innocent. Pure honey.
I dip the spoon and bring it to my lips. The sweetness envelops me at once, full, warm. Then... a sudden burn pierces my tongue, sharp, violent. I jerk the spoon back by instinct.
My breath hitches, I close my eyes, my brow tensing as the heat descends into my throat.
Ostryy perets. Chili.
“Fuck...”
I clatter the spoon against the plate. Lucien watches me, but he cannot understand.
This burn is mine alone.
And I laugh. Not at first, first a dry sob that scrapes my throat. Then the laughter escapes me, deep. It shakes my shoulders and tightens my stomach.
“What...”
I run a hand through my hair, pulling it back.
“It’s brilliant,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “Zhestòkiy... vaskhitìtielnyi.”
My brother furrows his brows. “Cruel, wonderful? Are you saying you... like it? That... what is it, spiced honey? You are liking it?”
I nod slowly. The flavor is still there, etched like a brand. Like the words on the note.
“There is a perverse genius behind this gift,” I hum. “A genius who knows exactly where to strike.”
The heat is not just on my tongue. I feel it lower down, inexorable, between my thighs as they grow heavy. I look down at the jar.
“Dorian,” he says, uncertainly, “do you want me to have that stuff taken away? Perhaps it’s going to your head.”
I pull the jar closer to me.
No.
I do not want it to vanish.
It is mine now.
Lucien seems about to retort, then gives up. He raises his hands and moves away from the table.
“As you wish. But if you wake up blind tomorrow... I know nothing about it.”
I am no longer listening to him.
The fire still burns in my mouth.
And I... I have a desire to bite, in my turn.
1. Cursed bastard, this is your fault, you took her from me!
30
Ten Seconds
Evander
