NOTE: There is brief mention of rape in this chapter. It’s not overt or graphic but it is mentioned. I don’t mean to offend anyone here, but this is part of Loveless’ story, so it must be written.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
For the Blood is the Life
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<td style="width: 100%">6 Seconds…</td>
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The back of Loveless’ head cracked hard against the ground, leaving her momentarily stunned.
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<td style="width: 100%">5 Seconds…</td>
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With no time left, Bram didn’t even bother to mount her. He thought she might even enjoy it if he tried. Instead, he glued himself to her back with arms tight around her waist…
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<td style="width: 100%">4 Seconds…</td>
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…And then he pressed his lips to her neck.
Loveless shivered at his touch but didn’t stop him, and Bram guessed rightly that she couldn’t. He deduced that knowing he meant her harm did nothing to stop the mad nymph’s desire from overriding her common sense. She wanted him to do it—and he obliged with fangs that pierced her flesh.
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<td style="width: 100%">You have activated [Blood Drinking Lv.1].</td>
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Loveless moaned. So did Bram.
Locked in an embrace of desire and death, he gave her what she craved…love. The kind that was all physical, though it would only last for three more seconds and end with her defeat, which didn’t seem to matter. Bram didn’t think Loveless cared about what Chris liked to call the scorecard. Not in this moment of fulfillment.
She longed to be held, touched, and craved by one who wasn’t under her thrall. While he desired the taste of her blood, to drain the nymph of her lifeforce, and weaken her so decisively that she might lose her power over her host…although that’s not all Bram would steal from Loveless. He should have expected it because Rowan had said the words time and time again that they’d been drilled into his head quite thoroughly. However, since his last victim had been a little lackluster, Bram was unprepared for the experience draining Loveless’ blood would give him.
For the blood is the life, came the familiar whisper.
Bram could feel some of his wounds begin to stitch back together, although his attention was turned to something other than the draining of the mad nymph’s blood. A flash of memory that didn’t belong to him appeared in his mind’s eye; a girl no older than the prince in a plain white robe and green girdle running through a grove of red pines, her wiry scarlet hair billowing in the wind behind her. She giggled as she ran, her bare feet barely touching the grass beneath her as if she were a gazelle in flight.
“Wait for me,” someone called.
It was a woman’s voice, strong yet soft, commanding yet pleading in the same breath.
“I cannot run as you do!” the voice complained.
The girl glanced over her shoulder and flashed her pursuer with a playful smile. “Catch me if you can!”
“Wait!” called the other.
‘Ba-dump.’
Bram blinked and the vision was gone, though it seemed his mind had yet to fully wake from his dreaming for he found himself standing in the middle of a room whose walls, floor, and ceiling were painted in the dark crimson hue of blood.
‘Ba-dump.’
The air here was hot and dry like the Gabi Desert at midday.
‘Ba-dump.’
Where…?
He blinked again, and the vision of the ‘Red-Hot Room’ vanished, replaced by another memory that wasn’t his.
Bram was on a riverbank bordering the edge of a grove of red pines. The trees were sparse here, though their tall canopies were wide enough to provide shade for the two women lying underneath.
Oh…
They were locked in an intimate embrace, their naked bodies intertwined so completely that one couldn’t tell whose limbs were whose. One was the redheaded girl from the earlier vision, though she looked older now, more like the nymph Bram had been fighting. The other woman, well, she was unlike any woman Bram had ever seen before. She was blonde and beautiful like the young ladies of the Sovereign’s court, though the pretty features of her face were marred on one side by skin that was cracked and dry and reddening. The rest of her body fared no differently. One side of her was pristine, flawless, perfect in every way. The other half of her naked flesh was imperfect, scarred like she’d been a victim of a fire.
Bram knew who this woman was just like he knew who the redheaded girl was. He wanted to look away because it seemed wrong to watch the passion igniting between them. He couldn’t though. Rather, the goddess wouldn’t let him. They locked eyes, as if she who was just a piece of memory, could see the man intruding on her precious moment with her lover.
You play a dangerous game, Princeling, whispered a voice in Bram’s head.
Her lips didn’t move. No, they couldn’t have. Those lips were pressed to the redhead’s flesh.
You can see me…? Bram’s brow creased. How is this possible…?
Time is not a river that flows in one direction. ‘Tis more like a tapestry whose weaving continues with every second yet is also already finished in that same moment…a complete design and an unfinished work in the same breath.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Brigid’s words gave Bram a headache.
I don’t understand…
I mean that time is relative to its observer, and we gods observe many things in far faster rhythms than the ticking clock.
So…you’re here observing this moment that’s already past, in his mind, Bram’s cogs began to turn, longing for knowledge no mortal possessed, …but you’re also in my present where this tapestry is already finished?
The goddess in his vision was too busy with her young lover to smile at Bram, but the voice speaking to his brain almost sounded amused.
You do seem wiser than your age…
Bram wasn’t comforted by her praise. Even more, he didn’t like the implications of his deductions. If one’s tapestry was already completed, wouldn’t that mean the future was predetermined?
Who’s to say if the finished work will remain the same at the end?
Then…can one’s fate be rewritten…?
Perhaps, though I’ve seen many mortals try and fail to do so… ‘Tis not an easy task, fighting against one’s destiny.
Hope fluttered inside Bram’s chest. It was enough for him that the goddess couldn’t give him a definitive answer. If changing one’s fate was not strictly impossible, then he would make it possible.
He heard amused laughter in his head.
As I’ve said, you play a dangerous game…
He guessed that she was about to explain the true reason for her intrusion of his intrusion into Loveless’ memories.
Why are you here?
He assumed it had nothing to do with the nymph whose heart the goddess broke for he felt no anger from the voice who knew he was an intruder in this special moment.
Do not trust her…
The goddess didn’t need to say the name out loud for him to guess who she meant.
You do not know her…not truly. Only what she pretends to be.
He frowned. I know enough.
No, you cannot…
There came another round of laughter. Less entertained and more ridiculing this time.
She is a trickster. She lies. She steals. She betrays… She cannot be trusted.
Bram shook his head. She’s not done these things to me…
Do not be fooled by her guise, Princeling. Her light is false…she will betray and abandon you in your hour of need.
In his mind, the prince recalled the trickster’s visage; her bright red hair slicked back and tied in a messy bun behind her head, the heart-shaped face that made men swoon to see, the crimson eyes that looked at him with understanding, the nose that widened at its tip wrinkling at the smell of cheap wine, and the red lips often set in an impish smile…
She won’t betray me…
Bram’s gaze drifted back to the two lovers locked in their heated moment, his eyes narrowing at seeing the happiness in a young Loveless’ face. Hers was a pure smile that was already tainted in his time.
You’re the one who betrays…
Bram’s hands balled into fists.
You’re the one who abandons…
He saw it clearly in his mind’s eye; a vision of the nymph driven mad by love, and the memory of her madness was enough for Bram to push back against Brigid’s presence. Unsurprisingly, the Goddess of Fire and Smithing didn’t resist the prince’s push of anger. More likely, she couldn’t. For as Rowan once claimed, the gods were ineffectual without their champions.
Be gone, Goddess. You’ve no power here…
There came the sound of a roaring fire, the smell of burning flesh, and an angry whisper filled the prince’s mind. Not so wise after all…
Bram blinked, and then he was back in the red-hot room.
‘Ba-dump.’
‘Ba-dump.’
It was a short visit, for within moments, he found himself an observer of a new memory, one far viler and more tragic than the misguided romance he’d witnessed so far.
He had returned to the final hall in Brigid’s temple, though this version was far from the one the forest had claimed in his time. This version seemed to have been built only yesterday. However, it wasn’t the gleaming trappings of wealth nor the glorious painting on the ceiling that held Bram’s attention. For how could he enjoy this scenery of ancient wonder when Loveless’ heart-wrenching wails filled his ears?
A scene of great wickedness took place at the end of this hall, and though he longed to rush over and pry the beast off her, all Bram could do was look away. Like Brigid, he had no power in this memory whose weaving was already completed.
Though the future might be rewritten, the past can’t be changed…
Loveless’ screams filled the air, and all Bram could do was weep for her. More than simply being a witness to her disgrace, he could feel what she felt—the shame, the fear, the anger—they washed over him, and his chest tightened with grief.
Rowan was right…the gods are cruel.
With this realization, Bram’s time in Loveless’ memories came to an end, and then his mind was rushing forward, moving past the red-hot room, out the door, and back into the present where he belonged. Strangely, not much time had passed since his visions began. Not much time at all.
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<td style="width: 100%">ALERT! You’ve absorbed enough blood to restore a fourth of your total HP. The injury in your right foot is only partially healed.</td>
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It seemed the goddess was truthful at least with her explanation of time; time was relative to the observer.
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<td style="width: 100%">ALERT! The duration of [Status Emulation Lv.1] has ended.</td>
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<td style="width: 100%">ALERT! You are no longer a [Blood Champion]. Your status has reverted.</td>
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With his borrowed power gone, the hunger that overwhelmed Bram went with it. In its place was the kind of fatigue that gave one a nasty headache…and that wasn’t all.
The prince’s eyes widened as the blood that had been so sweet to his tongue now made him want to gag. He didn’t pull away from their embrace though because he knew better than to give up his advantage. More importantly, Bram didn’t want to. His visions of Loveless’ memories were still fresh in his mind, and he couldn’t help but want to comfort her…at least for a short while. So, instead of pulling away, Bram forced the remaining blood down his mouth. He ignored the metallic taste sliding down his throat along with the fatigue that made his arms feel like they’d been turned to stone, all so he could plant a kiss on the two small wounds he’d given her neck. Once, twice, and then a third time.
“I know now why you could do the reprehensible things you’ve done…”
No, this was no simple act of comfort. For even now, the prince’s brain couldn’t help but turn its cogs. Even now, despite the sympathy he felt for her, Bram desired victory.
“It hurts less when you visit your pain onto others… I know this too.”
Throughout this exchange, Loveless quivered in Bram’s arms. She didn’t even try to fight him off, and he didn’t think she would. The nymph had been taken with the prince from the moment they met, and he was giving himself to her just like she wanted.
“Mine.”
Bram’s right hand came up to her face, his fingers resting on her chin. In the same breath, his left hand slid from her waist so that he might prepare the instrument that would ensure his victory.
“My. Own.”
With soft fingers, Bram drew Loveless’ face toward his, and that’s when he saw it. Gone was her wrath, her sorrow, her hunger, or her confusion. Her war of emotions was at an end for lust had decidedly triumphed. The sight of the wanton smile that had lost its innocence made his stomach churn for it was a distortion of the happiness he’d witnessed in her memories.
“My. Pre—”
Bram pressed his lips to hers, and she accepted him without fighting. Theirs was not a chaste kiss. Nor was it short. The passion ignited between them while they were entwined on the ground underneath the canopy of the great red pine. It was the kind of fiery passion that sparked quite brightly but dwindled just as quickly—and Loveless would once again taste betrayal as sharp as a jagged blade.
‘Snikt.’
“I’m sorry,” Bram whispered.
With everything he’d been witness to, he knew what he’d done was unforgivable. Not just for one who’d been betrayed by love once already, but by his own conscience. This was why his hand shook as it held the broken sword that now pierced Loveless’ side.
“Why…?”
The hurt was clear in her expression.
“Because you’re still my enemy…and there’s no going back for us. Only forward.”
With those words, he pulled his blade out—and then he stabbed her a second time.