Agony, pure and perfect, ripped through her skull, and the sound she made was not one that a human could make.
He was prying at her, digging his fingers in under what should have been her skull but was not.
She had pushed herself backwards, not wanting him to touch her.
He was ripping her apart, ripping her shell into shreds, and her vision blackened to nothing as the pain escalated to something so high and perfect that she could not process it.
When her vision cleared again, she could see the cracked eggshell appearance of human flesh in his hand, the peach skin withering into red-brown clay, and then it crumbled to dust before his eyes and when they returned to her, cold filled her soul.
He grinned maniacally, knowing the truth and his frenzied hands grabbed at her, ripping great strips of what looked so perfectly like normal flesh, only to have it shatter on the floor and she felt herself falling, the shell no longer able to contain her, the gold chains no longer able to contain her.
They had been holding her shell, not the being underneath.
Clay pattered down over her body and what was left of the thing collapsed in on itself, leaving a pile of clay and dust to flow around her.
She knelt huddled on the floor, naked and aching, with her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, trying to protect herself from his eyes and his touch. Looking down, she saw the remaining strands of crimson and gold hair, mingled with long black strands that had not been there before.
"Stop…" she whispered, her body on fire, and she was left feeling terribly exposed.
Her body felt heavy, having spent so long floating in the nothingness that was her shell. It felt as though the world were pulling on her, dragging her down, and yet the air felt wonderfully cool on her skin.
The lich was silent as he watched her, taking in the shape that was left when the shell was removed. He had been so savagely gleeful to rip it apart, so vicious and cruel, and now he was only confused, staring down at the small, pale creature that was left.
"Stand up," he breathed.
Her head tilted slightly to look at him, though she did not lift her eyes up past his knees and her hair provided a shield between his gaze and her face.
How long had it been since she had seen her hair? Long and obsidian, perfectly straight and wonderfully thick. It covered her body somewhat, but not enough.
His hand was colder than she expected when he bent down, taking her by the arm and pulling her to her feet.
Keeping her head bowed, she saw that her hair had grown down past her knees, heavy and wild around her. She felt more fragile in her natural state than she ever had in that shell, her host.
He did not release her arm and when she refused to look up, he took her face between his thumb and fingers, jerking her head up.
Still, he did not speak, staring at what he could make of her face before she finally lifted her eyes to him, meeting those dead grey eyes through a small part in her hair.
His lips parted slightly as he took her in, though no matter how many times he looked away from her face, taking in what he could see of her body, his eyes returned to hers again, captivated.
"Well then, enchantress, what exactly are you?" he said. It was a rhetorical question. She knew it. They both knew he would find out for himself and he would enjoy discovering it on his own far more than if she simply told him.
Pulling herself from his grip, she staggered and caught herself against the wall, her muscles struggling to remember how to work without the host to contain it. It must have been longer than she realised since she had taken on the host. Her body was no longer used to being on its own.
He did not try to grab her again, simply watched her as she touched the wall, feeling the texture of the stone. It felt different from when she was in a host, given the clay shell muted most sensations; now she truly could feel it with her bare flesh. It was so rough and cold, lifeless.
"What do you want, lich?" she asked finally, giving up the game of pretending to not know his language.
***
He moved forward, his grip tight on her arm as he pulled her around to face him and thrust her back against the wall. Releasing her with one hand, he brushed her hair back from her face and took a firm grip on her jaw, turning her head.
In her host she had been on a level with his chest, almost a foot shorter than him but now they were nearly eye to eye, with him being only around five or six inches taller and yet he still looked down his sharp nose at her.
He turned her head first to the left and then to the right, taking in her features, letting go of her face to run his finger slowly along the length of her ear, long and pointed. Catching several strands of her hair in his fingers, he rubbed them together slowly and then lifted them to his nose, inhaling deeply before he let go again. His attention trailed down over her throat to her collarbones and shoulders, taking in the pale skin with a very carefully schooled, neutral expression.
She could not get a single hint of his thoughts; he made no sound and there was not so much as a twitch from his face. He pinched her skin between his index finger and thumb, testing the elasticity of her throat before he let go again, pulling the skin tight against her to examine the blue of her veins, and then his eyes dropped. His hands were uncomfortably rough as he cupped her breasts and squeezed them, feeling the weight before he moved on with little interest.
She was not as much a woman to him as she was an incredibly interesting specimen that needed to be studied.
He touched her stomach, pressing against the skin, pinching it to see how her flesh responded before he hesitated, his eyes on her groin but he did not touch her, instead going down over her thighs and then crouching before her to examine her feet.
The whole experience was so incredibly odd that she was not sure what to do, standing still and silent while he bent her toes in, ran his thumb over the underside of them and very nearly earnt a knee to the face when his finger trailed over the balls of her feet and she jerked back. Her feet were ticklish, and she did not like it when someone touched them.
He made no response to her reaction to his touch; instead, he caught sight of her hands and he snatched at her wrist, standing and dragging her closer to the only dim source of light, a lantern on the table.
He examined her nails carefully, looking from her fingers and then down to her toes and back again. They were a match, silver in colour and perfectly oval.
Rubbing his thumb over the surface of her nail, he twisted her fingers to see the light reflecting off the metal surface, and then he pressed the tip of his index finger against the edge of her nail. Hissing, he jerked his hand back and looked at his finger, seeing a small, curved cut that blood oozed from. He had barely touched her and yet her nail had cut him easily.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stepped back from her and examined the whole of her. His brows pulled together in a scowl of annoyance.
"What's the matter, lich? Can't figure it out?" she taunted, though her low voice was a husky, sensual purr and yet he still scowled at her amusement.
"I will figure it out, woman. You appear to be some sort of wildling, fairy or similar," he said almost angrily, and she resisted the urge to laugh. She was no fairy; they were small creatures, but he was not that far off the mark and she was a little impressed by how close he was.
Lifting her shoulder in a shrug, she turned her attention from him to the door. "There are many types," she said dismissively, not giving him any clues.
He seemed to grow even angrier at her flippant response, and she frowned as she saw that same flash of gold. She did not have the strength or dexterity yet to try to dodge it, but she did jerk back. Even so, the loop fell down over her head and he yanked hard on the other end. Gasping as the chain pulled painfully tight around her throat, she staggered backwards and her muscles gave out, sending her to the floor at his feet, her hip and hands on fire where she had landed, though she did not appear to be bleeding.
The fleeting wonder of what eating a lich would be like. She lifted her chin to look up at him, his smug smile and triumphant eyes lingering on her as he held the chain aloft.
"Don't get too bold. You forget that I control you. Whether you live or die is up to me."
Well, if that was how he wanted to play it, he was in for a rude surprise.
Her flash of amusement was gone in an instant and his brows lowered in a frown as he saw only the briefest hint of it, neither of them speaking as they glared at each other, angry and both loathing the other.
How difficult would it be for her to get him to kill her? Surely it could not be that hard if she put her mind to it. But if he suspected that she was trying to force his hand, he would stop and become suspicious. Not only that, but she had to get him so angry that he would lose that vice-like grasp he had on his emotions. She did not think he would be that easy to anger, not so much so that he would risk his precious new toy.