Black Blood (Series of Blood Book 4) by Emma Hamm (scary books to read .TXT) 📕

strawberries, or read her stories when she was sick.

“Find me, Lydia.” Pitch’s voice compelled her to do just that. “Find me in the vision and tell me what you see.”

And there he was. Standing knee high in a field of wheat like a pillar of shadow.

“Tell me, Lydia.”

“You’re in a field. A golden field.”

“What else? I want to know everything, little love.”

“There are thunderstorms behind you. Great rolling banks of clouds crackling with thunder and lightning.”

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

“No. I can feel their power just like I can feel you. They’re rolling all around you but you stand in the eye of the storm. You’re lifting your arms.”

“Do you want to go to me?”

“Yes.”

“What can you smell?”

She breathed in deep. “Honey.”

“Honey?”

“Honey before it’s been boiled and changed its form. Honey straight from the comb of bees. I can hear them humming.”

“What do you taste?”

Lydia licked her lips, flavor bursting through every sense. “Pomegranates.”

“Go to me.”

She did. In her mind’s eye, she rushed toward his darkness without fear. He would not harm her, he couldn’t. Pitch was as much a part of her as she was of him. To hurt her would be to hurt himself.

Only a few steps had passed, but she was in his arms. Pressed against his chest with his hands searing her spine. Pomegranate overflowed from her lips like blood as his lips crushed hers. His darkness, his anger, his pride all mingled with the forbidden taste.

And the rains poured down upon them.

She could not think. She could not speak. All she could do was feel the hard planes of his body, the curving lines of his arms as he bent her backward. Fat raindrops struck her cheeks and echoed ringing peals as they landed upon her antlers.

Her spine arched and the strands of her hair tugged as he pulled. Lightning cracked and her eyes flew open. She stared into the glowing white light of the sky in awe as he whispered hallelujahs in every kiss.

Thunder rolled like the sound of drums. The true Gods were looking down upon them, their eyes lingering upon the couple entwined on their hill. She felt their gaze of approval, the warmth of their blessing, the heavy curse of their words.

She was a vessel. A vessel brimming full with the love of a dangerous man who pressed prophecies into her flesh. A vessel guided by Gods and Angels, whispering the future into the night. A vessel overflowing with euphoric happiness that rushed down the hill and gilded the edges of every plant with silver light.

“Pitch,” she whispered against his lips. “Oh Pitch.”

Slowly, they came back to earth. She gripped the picnic blanket with clawed hands, grounding herself in the here and the now. He traced patterns upon her throat with his tongue.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“That was Bliss?”

“That, my love, was your bliss.”

She could believe that. There was no better ending in her mind than standing with him at the pinnacle of the earth’s power.

Sighing, she tucked her nose into the crook of his neck. “Did you think I wouldn’t see you in it?”

“I never know what anyone will see. It’s a rare treat to be told what a person experiences for the first time.”

“Have you ever taken it?”

“Many times.”

He rolled onto his back, dragging her with him. Lydia rested her head over his heart. The steady thumps stilled her wildly beating heart and calmed her reeling mind. “What do you see?”

“I am always on a ship. The waves crashing around me and the wail of the Leviathans of old ringing in my ears.”

“Alone?”

“No. There has always been the shadow of horns framing mine on the worn planks. For a time I thought it was Sil though the horns weren’t right. Then I thought it was a sign of my steady decline into insanity and darkness. But now, I believe I have always seen you there beside me.”

Her hands fisted in his shirt. “Me?”

“My future has always been intertwined with yours. As Sil used to say, she and I started in the middle. I fell in love with you long before our beginning and your soul was already tied to mine the moment you were born. We only had to find each other.”

Each word was poetry to her ears. She drank in the declarations as if they were fine wine.

Lydia loved him. Truly, madly, so much that her mind wanted to splinter into a thousand pieces when she thought of him. She was nothing and everything with him by her side.

Just like the world was nothing and everything if they didn’t save it. Guilt made her chest seize with anxiety.

“Pitch I-”

“Hush, love.” He pressed a finger against her lips. “Don’t speak. Let us enjoy this afternoon together and not remember the world is falling down upon us.”

“How did you know I was going to bring it up?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“We have to talk about it at some point.”

“But not right now,” he lunged upwards. She wrapped her legs around his waist, his arms cradling her against his chest. “If I need to distract you, I will.”

His lips feathered against her throat, his hands unbuttoning the back of her gown. And for a few hours, they both forgot about everything but each other.

Lydia lurched out of bed, falling onto her hands and knees with a thump. Ashes coated her tongue. The lingering scent of too many Juices to count made her mind foggy and her lungs burn.

“Lydia? Lydia!” Pitch leapt from the bed and knelt on the floor beside her, pulling her up to stare at him. “What is wrong? What happened?”

“It’s burning,” she shook her head. “No, it will burn. A Juice shop, a little Juice shop but it’s making my soul hurt.”

She could feel the glowing and fragile film inside of her. The tiny piece of soul which made her alive while all other things did not. It was so easy to tear, and the vision was a blade pressing against it.

“What shop?