Chapter 6. Reive

A pretty girl with long honey-brown hair. With large eyes twinkling like stars. And with a cruel smile which had overturned everything inside the necromancer. As if someone had ripped his stomach open, tearing out his bowels with a jagged knife.

Her face transformed. Now there was a pale man who had grown grey before his time. He was quite young but had wrinkles under his dark green eyes. The man glared hatred and contempt at Reive, and it was this glare that moved Reive to murder.

The necromancer raised his eyes, driving the delusions away and trying to return to reality. But completely unexpectedly, the nightmare became reality. The grey-headed man didn’t disappear. He was sitting on the brushwood beside Angelina with a ghastly smile. The girl didn’t notice him.

“What, you didn’t expect to meet an old friend of yours?” Ulfricus said calmly, his dead green eyes burning into Reive.

“I killed you,” the necromancer answered scarcely audibly, clenching his teeth.

The ghost grinned repulsively.

“What’s wrong?” the girl asked, frowning. Reive wasn’t looking at her. All his attention was fixed on his enemy, on his old friend sitting alongside.  

“You’re dead,” Reive pronounced this with only his lips.

“You too, but does that matter?” Ulfricus said, savoring each word and grinning.

Reive shuddered. But the next moment, he lowered his head sharply. The girl’s small hand lay on his clenched fist. It was white, contrasting with his dark skin. Burning hot.

A pulse throbbed in his temples.

The necromancer looked again at his grey-haired enemy, but he had vanished into thin air, as if he imagined the whole thing.

“Are you all right?” Angelina asked quietly, looking at him with wide-open eyes.

She was so close to him that he felt her breath. Faintly. But suddenly, he wanted terribly to feel it more.

The faint sweet odor of the girl began to seep somewhere deep into him. To excite something dark and hungry inside him, awakening the wild animal. Painting vague images in his mind and throwing out all his morose thoughts quickly and easily.  

Little one...

Her soft, half-open lips, over which he so much wanted to run his tongue. To penetrate inside them. And to tip the girl over onto her back. To feel her hot languishing body under him. To roar, biting her vulgar wet mouth while she pressed her legs over his thighs and moaned his name in a low voice.

Reive seized the girl’s wrist and pulled her sharply towards him. Angelina screamed and fell onto him, for one short moment finding herself on top of him.

“What are you?” she only managed to say.

She didn’t have time to say anything more.

Reive hadn’t had a woman for so many years.