It didn’t delay.
With his next wheezy breath, there came an icy burn at his feet. He cried out, biting his tongue viciously and thrashing his legs, intent on escaping the pain. But that cold burn was ruthless; it traveled relentlessly up his legs, over his torso and chest, and finally, to the tip of his head. He groaned, his mind lost to the torment as he writhed on the ground, lost in its burning intensity.
“Look at me!”
Even though the words were soft, the tone was a dark, captivating melody, devastatingly discordant, and of an otherworldly complexity. It wasn’t a tone for human ears, and it wasn’t a tone that could be denied. In response, blood ran, warm and wet, out of Talorgan’s ears and down his neck.
He knew it was pointless to hide from it any longer. He opened his eyes.
Two red, burning orbs stared back at him from within a face that was utterly flawless. Black pupils moved restlessly, swirling and reforming within startling carmine irises. The vision before him could have passed for human if not for those eyes and the two black horns that protruded from raven curls.
“Do you know who I am, Druid?”
The words ripped through Talorgan’s body in a streak of agony. “Yes,” he gasped, unable to deny the demand in that voice. After all, he had awoken him.
I’ve gone too far.
The confession was a heavy weight in his stomach. But Talorgan knew there was no turning back. There would be no escape, not now, not ever.
“Say my name, Druid.”
Talorgan swallowed hard before giving voice to the vision before him. “Arawn, the Dark God.”
Red eyes gleamed with triumph. “And you are the Druid who freed me from captivity; my first disciple.”
Without warning, the Dark God threw his head back, face uplifted to the stars. “I smell freedom!” he roared exultantly.
The cry of stark triumph caused unforgiving spasms of pain to lance Talorgan’s skull, and his ears bled anew. Blinking against the melodious onslaught, he panted furiously as he struggled to maintain consciousness.
Arawn’s lip curled as he observed his prey. “I’d forgotten how weak your race is, unable to take our presence.”
In the next breath, Arawn reared back, flowing to his feet in a fluid movement no human could ever replicate.
The sudden removal of his presence from above Talorgan’s body had an instantaneous effect. As if a crushing weight had been lifted, Talorgan took his first breath of clean, untainted air. But he remained conscious of how vulnerable he was as he lay on the ground, the Dark God above him. Closing his mind against the protest of his muscles, he maneuvered into a sitting position and leaned back against the trunk of a tree.
The Dark God cocked his head to the side. “Why did you run?”
“I—I don’t know.” Even to his own ears, Talorgan’s voice sounded weak.
Those red eyes burned. “You humans are so fickle! You killed for me, worshipped me, even called for me, and now that I am here—you fear me!” Arawn’s tone became dangerously soft as he leaned closer. “I have come, Druid. I answered your call. The least you can do is show me respect worthy of my attention.”
Talorgan instantly lowered his head. “I apologize, Dark Master.”
Arawn’s frame infinitesimally relaxed at the show of deference. “What is it you desire, Druid?”
An image flared in Talorgan’s mind. An image of someone he wanted with a vengeance. He swallowed, pushing past the hard lump in his throat, and reminded himself that Arawn had the means to get him what he most desired. “You know what I want,” he said firmly, drawing forth courage he didn’t know he possessed. “And in exchange for your release from the Underworld, I seek your assistance.”
Arawn inclined his head. “What you want is stained upon your soul. But for me to grant this boon, you must own it. Say it! I will accept no less.”
Talorgan voiced his innermost yearning. “I desire the Goddess of Winter.”
The Dark God smiled, his lips peeling back to expose viciously pointed teeth. Talorgan went still, cognizant of the stark reminder that this gorgeous, beautiful man was not human.
“Ah, yes, Cailleach, my sister,” drawled Arawn. “The clandestine little whore.”
Talorgan blinked at the description.
Arawn noticed his expression. He cocked his head to the side. “Were you not aware she is with child?”
Talorgan flinched.
Arawn laughed freely, dark amusement dancing across his face. “I can read your mind. The idea of your cherished Cailleach taking another lover is unbearable. It is obvious you had not considered this consequence.”
“It matters not!” spat Talorgan, his position of servitude forgotten as his emotions rode a wave of burning anger. “Her lover can be eliminated!” His frame tensed, and fury radiated through his tone. “I granted you your freedom. I have given you a chance to reign over this world once again. For that—I am owed retribution!”
The Dark God merely raised a brow at Talorgan’s show of defiance. “Fear not,” he drawled. “I always pay my debts. I will give you what you desire—the means to kill her lover and child.”
Talorgan froze. “You will not do this deed yourself?”
Arawn blinked. “She is my sister. Father would execute me if he found out. No, the final act must come from your hand alone.”
“How?”
Arawn’s lips lifted in a show of a smile that held no warmth. “I will provide you with the tools you require to complete this task.”
“But her lover—he will be a god! More powerful than I!”
The Dark God’s face hardened into a cold mask. “Her lover is human.”
“Human?”
“Yes!” spat Arawn. “My sister has disgraced us, choosing a human lover and creating an abomination! We are gods! We do not taint our blood with subservient beings! Father has erred in allowing this transgression, for her act has shamed us all.”
Talorgan’s heart raced. “You know who he is—tell me!”
A cruel smile flitted over Arawn’s lips, and his words were soft, full of cunning. “Someone you know well. Someone you already despise.”
The vice around Talorgan’s heart gripped painfully. There was only one person who he despised with everything he had. The name slipped from his tongue in a menacing growl. “Tritus.”
Arawn closed his eyes, inhaling hungrily. “I can smell your despair! It has many layers.”
The Dark God’s face was euphoric, but Talorgan’s focus had narrowed until only one thought consumed his mind. “I will kill him.”
Arawn’s eyes snapped open. “Of course, revenge is owed. However, you understand that if you want my help to take two lives instead of one, a tithe will be due.” His carmine eyes locked on Talorgan’s as he added in a low, hungry voice, “You know what I’m asking.”
Talorgan’s throat closed at the dark promise in Arawn’s voice, and he hesitated on the precipice of his next move into darkness. But he couldn’t retreat, not now. He’d come too far and lost too much already. His path was inevitable, and now destiny would play her role. “Yes,” he whispered. “You desire my soul.”
Arawn’s face contorted into a devastating grin that sent a cold, chill racing across Talorgan’s skin. “Then let us seal our pact with blood.”
The Dark God produced a wickedly sharp, curved dagger as if from thin air. Talorgan’s gaze shifted to the blade. He watched as Arawn raised his other hand, palm up, and whipped it across his skin in a swift motion. Blood immediately welled; a red so dark it appeared almost black. The god’s lifeblood dropped onto the soft earth below, hissing on impact. Talorgan stared at it, his resolve wavering, but Arawn held out the blade, thrusting it against his chest.