"-ia!" Someone's shouting at me. I groan as the ringing in my ears gets louder, drowning the voice back out as my body starts to hum with pain. I'm hot, my skin and muscles all molten on my bones, the runes on my legs are prickling in contrast, cold and stiff. "Nia!" His voice is sweeter than molasses, all whiskey and honey...but loud as fuck.
"Stop fucking screaming at me," I groan as the voice tries to burst my ear drums. I reach up to shove the noise away, my hands registering warm skin, cooler to my hot touch. A breath tickles the palm of my left hand as I try to push him away.
"You're alive." Asher sounds...relieved. My mentor's forehead presses into my temple, the tickle of his hair on my cheek letting me know where he is in relation to me.
"Can't kill me off that easy," I grumble, struggling to crack open an eye to look at him, but my eyelids only flutter and cause my head to explode with pain. "Fucking hell-" I groan, pressing my palms to my head and letting out a few more expletives as the pain intensifies.
"Shh," Asher breathes in my ear, his breath fanning out across my neck as the sex-operator roughness returns. I feel his cooler fingers rasp against my temples in slow circles , sending sweet tingles pulsing through the contact. "There you go," He hums as I let out a sigh of relief. The tingles chase away the pain with pure and unfettered pleasure, making me feel like I'm floating on a cloud and not...
"Fuck!" I hiss, sitting up too fast as my head swims. Asher grabs me before I can flop back down and smack my head on the ground. He levies me into a sitting position as my body goes limp, his shoulder pressing into my back as half of me rests on half of him.
"Relax for a minute. You may be physically healed, but the rest of you needs to come to terms with that before you go off anywhere." Asher tells me sternly, one of his arms snaking around my waist tightly, anchoring me against him. I growl at him, but there's no bite in it, as much as I hate to think that my mind needs time to function right when the rest of me is good to go, I let myself rest a few minutes.
My vision's oddly blurry, little speckles dancing in my eyes. I have to rub them a few times before it clears enough that I recognize where we are. The warehouse looks...normal. No sign of the corpses or Hellgate. No creepy-ass Shadows or possessed monstrosities. No one in here at all, but us.
"The Gate-" I start slowly, but a lance of pain spears the thought and makes nausea churn in my stomach.
"Sealed." Asher reports, leaning his cheek on the top of my head. "The others have left already, but I didn't want to move you-" He explains, then just as quickly shuts up. "You were injured." He simplifies, like it's the only explanation he needs to give.
"But I'm physically healed now." I sum up. I feel him nod, making my head shake a little with the motion. I frown at the spot where the Gate was. There are scorch marks in the earth there, flared out like we'd set fire to the Gate rather than sealed it. But at least there's no sign of the black-purple shit that had looked like an infection.
My nose wrinkles as I inhale, scenting the air and nearly gagging in the process. It's faint, but the smell of rotten eggs and rot in general still hangs in the air, that and the smell of ozone and spices. It's not a pleasant combination.
"Death Magic doesn't smell as nice as one would think." Asher notes. "Of course, the sulfur residue probably isn't helpful, either."
"Could have warned me." I growl at him, turning my face and pressing my nose into his chest. I hadn't noticed before, but Asher smells...good. Like campfires and s'mores, sunshine and... I shiver, my heart rate spiking as I catalog the scents that seem to cling to him. It's not a powerful kind of smell, more like a teasing whiff that makes me want to bury my face against his bare skin.
YOU ARE READING
Reaper Society
FantasíaYou've probably heard of Grim Reapers before, but even I never thought there was more to the typical 'harvesters of souls' until a week ago...
