Page 84 of The Blight of Hollowmire

His kiss-reddened lips quirk into a dimpled smile and he pulls back to thrust into me again, and again, and again, seating himself fully before pulling back out again. I lift my hips up and lock my legs around his waist, giving him better access and mewling at the friction that now works along my sex.

“Goddess, you feel so good. So good. I’ve wanted, I’ve wanted so badly, and gods above it’s nothing—nothing compared to how good it feels,” he growls, matching my cries with deep, satisfying grunts. His hands grip my hips so hard I hope they bruise, and his thumb finds the little bundle of nerves once more to rub in time with each plunging movement.

Pleasure begins to dance along my veins, winding through me like mycelium through the earth. It picks up speed with the pounding of my heart as we move together on the ground, and oh, ohhh, ohhhh, it’s going to destroy me, this feeling, I know with certainty it is. But there’s no stopping it, it’s going to come whether I want it to—whether I’m prepared for it or not, and oh gods⁠—

“Renard!”

I sink my fangs into his neck and come harder than I ever have, screaming up into the sky and slamming my eyes shut as dark spots dance in my vision. Warm blood flows into my mouth and I lap it up, sending Renard into a frenzy of stuttering thrusts.

“Vireth, yes, yes, oh gods⁠—”

He shouts as he finds his release, hips jerking and full body shuddering as pleasure wracks his body, finally collapsing on top of me.

The weight of him should be too much, but it isn’t—it soothes me and settles me as we both catch our breath in the wake of our ecstasy.

For the first time in I don’t know how long, I feel the sharp claws of hope in my chest. Renard is so strong, and he cares for me. He will be with me to see this through. I am not alone—not anymore.

He nuzzles my neck and as I look down to speak to him, something black catches my eye—drifting down from the sky like a snowflake.

A spore.

No.

Clouds of spores—black ones, falling lazily from the sky onto the ground around us. Concern giving way to panic, I move from beneath Renard, who makes a small noise of protest until he witnesses the same scene I do.

In the clearing next to the bandit camp, everything is dead. No animals remain, all plants have withered. Black mold and poisonous blood-red mushrooms are the only things left, pushing up through the decay-choked soil.

It is more than I have ever done on my own with my magic. The swathe of destruction is visible for a mile in every direction around us.

Despair and panic surge, and a new bed of toxic toadstools rises up at my feet. The ground begins to tremble faintly like the night in the cave, and once more, bones of long-dead things begin to shake up from their resting places in the soil.

No, no, no. No! Not again!

Sharp, searing pain splits my skull, blooming outward from my antlers, twisting in my gut like spoiled food.

The Blight Mother is awake.

17

Renard

When Vireth collapses, this time it’s not from pleasure—she doubles over, retching and screaming. Panic banishes the remnants of my ardor and I bend over her to place a hand on her bare back, alarmed by the heat pouring off her body. Something is horribly wrong. Dread surges, pulled up from my gut in a rising tide of nausea because there is a part of me deep inside that knows this is all to do with the Blight Mother.

She is crouched on the ground, clutching at her head, screaming in pain, and I don’t know how to help her—and it’s killing me.

“Vireth!”

I shout to be heard above her cries, but she does not respond to me. Suddenly she thrusts her fingers into the dirt, leans forward and vomits a stream of powdery mold spores that sink into the earth.

Fear seizes me as I take in the clearing around us—as far as the eye can see, decay and rot grip the forest. I refuse to feel shamed for finally taking what I’ve wanted—what we’ve wanted—and coming together, but seeing the devastation around us is terrifying. It must’ve happened when we were focused solely on each other.

Was it our joining that wrought this? Did this somehow unlock, unleash, or summon the ancient goddess slumbering inside Vireth? How did this happen?

Vireth groans, snapping my attention back to her. Her voice is not hers, and a chill climbs up my spine because I recognize the sound at once.

“Vireth?” I try again.

She does not respond.