Mazzulah had called it.
Quinn trailed her fingers over the top of the water, musing about all that and more. She thought about Lazarus and what he’d do when he saw her. If he’d kiss her or try to kill her.
Quinn smiled, neither option was particularly unwelcome, and while she was delaying him knowing for a very good reason, she couldn’t help the little thrill that ran through her knowing she’d get to see the reaction on his face. It would be priceless.
She would return and they would win the war and then . . . well, Quinn wasn’t sure. On one hand, it seemed odd to be thinking about what would happen after the war, on the other, after spending years in the dark realm only to find mere months had passed . . . she had to wonder.
It wasn’t that she’d grown tired of Mazzulah, but the fire in Lazarus called to her more than the ice. Or at least, what she remembered of it. A small part of Quinn wondered; would she still feel that fascination? The desire to push and to pull until he came unhinged?
Would she yearn for his savagery? Would she quiver as she once did?
Quinn didn’t know. So long had passed that she wondered at times if she’d gone a little mad. She had actually danced with Mazzulah. Was it possible that the memories of her past life weren’t the sharp bite of flame she remembered?
While a certain thrill went through her when she shattered a man’s mind or left Liph to burn, cheap thrills only lasted so long. Quinn needed that darkness, that desperateness that she recalled—because she wanted to live again. At least in some capacity. And when the war was over, assuming they won it, she would have to move on from razing cities to the ground, hunting assassins, and torturing whoever she felt like. Live out however long her immortal life would be.
Being whatever or whoever she chose to be.
For so long she lived for games. She loved the carefully crafted manipulations. But when she died . . . all of that fell away.
She couldn’t help but ponder if it would again when it was all over.
She was addicted and destruction was her poison of choice.
Quinn never got enough of it, but at a certain point, she would have to.
“But at least I got a hot bath. That’s worth something,” Quinn said to herself. In the back of her mind, a whispered hiss made her open her eyes.
“Mistress.”
“We’ve been through this, Neiss,” Quinn sighed. “It’s either Quinn or fear twister. You can even call me ‘walker of realms’ if you’re wanting a change. But leave the master and mistress stuff for the gods.”
His presence slithered through her mind. “He sleeps.”
Quinn groaned, this time for a very different reason.
“Of course he does,” she muttered. “Right when I finally get something I want.” Quinn huffed, but turned to dreamwalking nonetheless. She sought him out by simply thinking it, and unlike the other times when he’d been trying to avoid her, his mind was open.
“It took you long enough,” she snapped, appearing in front of him. Draeven jumped, his eyes going wide at the sight of her wet, bare flesh.
“Black Baac,” he cursed. “Put some clothes on! Why are you naked every time I—”
Quinn rolled her eyes, summoning a robe. It wasn’t real and given that she didn’t dream like him, she wasn’t pulled into the sensory detail of his mind. Her skin once again felt cold to the touch. “I’ve tried coming to you, but you’ve been avoiding me. If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have had to come during my bath. We don’t always get what we want, do we?”
Draeven pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly.
“Are you dressed yet?”
“In a fashion,” Quinn replied. He cracked one eye and sighed with relief that both her breasts and other assets were covered.
“I needed to speak with you,” Draeven started slowly.
“Oh?” Quinn said. “But not in the last week that I’ve tried to contact you? It must really be important if you’re actively trying to—”
“Why can’t I tell Lazarus?” he interrupted. Quinn raised her eyebrows.
“We talked about this.”
“No,” he breathed. “You made a decision as you always do.”
“Yes, well, one of us came back from the dead and the other helped put them there. Forgive me for not asking anyone’s opinion while I plan how to best keep myself out of the dark realm again.”
Draeven swallowed, and Quinn sighed.