A Soul to Revive (Duskwalker Brides, #5)

Emerie’s full pink lips pulled to the side as she held the back of one of his hands in her left palm and tapped his index finger claw with her right. Her lips curled upward, and she turned a smile to him.

“That is much safer, thank you.” She closed his hand for him, and the softness of her flesh brushed over the backs of his knuckles. “But still be gentle. Okay? No more sudden grabbing.”

Her smile and touch, as well as the acceptance of his idea, made his tail swish back and forth across the ground. I am smart. That was a smart idea. His tail swished faster when she didn’t immediately pull away from him, instead patting the hand she was holding. She is pleased with me.

However, Ingram didn’t promise that he wouldn’t grab her again, unsure if he could stick to it.

His resolve weakened further when he looked down to their touching hands and remembered, vividly, hers stroking him into bliss. His scales and small amount of fur lifted at the memory, as a strange stirring sensation tingled his groin.

He wanted her to do it again, already obsessed with the idea.

Especially since he’d never experienced anything like it in his life, and he was growing more curious about it the longer it was since he’d experienced it. He wanted to know what it was, and why the strange thing had sprung from him.



Emerie stared at the raven-skulled Duskwalker before her, unsure of what to do with him.

Already her short amount of time with him was... odd.

His sniffing of her had not gone unnoticed, although she’d chosen to ignore it. If he wanted to be curious for his own sense of security, she would accept it.

She wasn’t the one who had been captured, tortured, and afraid as she ran away. He wasn’t the one who had purposefully put her in harm’s way or betrayed her without knowing what that would mean later.

It was hard to deny that he might have a sweet side, which, considering what he was, was hard to accept. She’d always heard of Duskwalkers being monsters. Cruel and frightening. A nightmare that could walk in the day and night, and sometimes a child’s worst fear, even in the bright sun.

An omen of death.

So, to have one pet her hair, or even try to brush her face was hard to take in. He’d also steadied her once on their walk when a loose rock had slipped underfoot, forcing his shoulder up to catch her from falling flat on her face.

All this, from a creature she was supposed to hate, only twisted the knife of guilt in her gut. Deeper and deeper it cut, until she thought it would make a permanent hole.

Even more so when she took in his bright-yellow orbs, and they came across as warm, and almost... joyful in response to her touch and reassurance.

I don’t know how to make up for how much I’ve wronged him. Was freeing him from the confines she herself had put on him enough?

It couldn’t be, not with everything he endured afterwards.

She tried to smile for him but knew it didn’t go past her lips. Emerie let him go and turned so she could continue to lead the way – and, more importantly, give him her back to hide her pained expression.

She hadn’t offered to travel with him just to make it up to him, although that had been a big factor in her decision. Her reasons for being here were self-serving.

I joined the guild with a purpose... She rubbed her nape as uncertainty laced with her determined resolve. But his cause seems even more important.

Kill the Demon King – the centre of power for all the Demons – in the hopes that it could put an end to the worst of their chaos? She wondered if it would be the equivalent of killing a bee queen and watching her workers buzz around without rhyme or reason. Or would the Demons quickly establish a new leader before they perished?

Regardless of her musings, it was a thread of hope for her people, for herself.

Lifting her face towards the rising sun, she closed her eyes as she basked in its light and heat. I know I’m doing the right thing, even if no one else will see it.

“Emerie,” he called, breaking her from her musing as the dark, bass rumble of his voice reverberated through her. The tiny hairs on her body stood on end as it tingled her brain in the most disconcerting way.

She couldn’t even remember telling him her name. She guessed he must have overheard it within Zagros Fortress.

“Yes?” she croaked out, unable to look at him due to her weird reaction. Even her cheeks had heated a little in embarrassment, likely making her facial scarring more noticeable – and she hated it when that happened.

Smoothness rubbed down the back of her forearm until it slid into her relaxed palm. The movement in her peripheral told her it was his beak.

“Will you do what you did to me before?” He seemed to almost groan out his question, each word slow and hoarse.

Her eyelids snapped open, and she jerked away. She crossed her arms as she faced him, shaking her head since she knew exactly what he was talking about.

His purple orbs appeared a little darker than the orchid hue she’d seen them turn, but she put it down to a trick of the sunlight hitting them for the first time.

“N-no,” she squeaked. “That... uh, was only one time.”

He stepped closer to crowd her. “Why? Your touch felt good.”

Emerie put a hand out to ward him back.

“B-because I only did that to calm you and because you said you were in pain. That’s, um, that’s something you’re only supposed to do with someone special.”

The Duskwalker confidently placed the curve of his beak right against her outward reaching hand. It tilted to the right under her fingertips and palm.

“I can be special.” That’s not what she meant! She retracted her hand from the air. “What was it? I have never seen it come from me before, but you touched it so... willingly.”

Emerie wanted to squirm in embarrassment, her cheeks heating with it to the point even her chest flushed.

Touched it so willingly?! He was making her feel like a sexual deviant!

“You don’t know what came out of you?” she squeaked out, her voice so high pitched it threatened to give out.

When he shook his head, Emerie wanted to expire.

Oh gods. I feel like I took advantage of him.

She’d just wanted to help him! He’d suffered enough pain that she didn’t want him to experience another second more of it, even if it meant she had to give him a quick hand job and forget it ever happened.

But she should have known he wouldn’t make it a one-time thing. She’d given him release. She’d had an inclination he would try to seek more from her, but she’d also just been hoping he... wouldn’t.

Do... Do I tell him what it was?

Part of her wanted to change the subject, and another part told her the right thing to do was to explain it to him. It wasn’t fair to withhold knowledge from him just because she wanted to die of shame and embarrassment.

Pull up a chair, class. It’s time to learn sex education. She groaned in dismay before her shoulders slumped.