Elijah was silent beside her as they walked. She gazed at him, seeing a peek of his strong jaw, the dark stubble glinting in the moonlight. His lips were pulled in their usual, unimpressed line. “The crystals have not been used nor seen in over-”
“One hundred years, I know.”
“Why now?”
“Exactly my question, and the reason I was headed to Amberbourne before I was so rudely ambushed.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.
“What if it had been just that, a rumour? You could have been killed on the road.” He tilted his head to examine her and was met with a stubborn stare.
“Well, emphasis on the could have been,” he drawled.
Arii rolled her eyes.
After a while, the silence between them seemed to become less unbearable, less uncomfortable. The two cloaked figures soon entered the castle gates, and Arii was glad Elijah did not ask her how she had slipped past the guards, nor did he say anything as he unsaddled his stallion and bedded him down in the stables with feed and water.
Arii was surprised to see his strong, long fingered hand stroke the animal’s snout tenderly. It was odd, this moment of gentleness. Up until now, she had seen Elijah as an uncaring, brutal shadow with not a kind feeling for anything.
Almost like herself.
She noticed his skin was dark with blood, now crusted in his fingernails, causing her to look down at her own hands. They were the same, the cuticles stained with dark red that was almost black. When her gaze lifted, Elijah was standing before her.
“Go and wash up and get a few hours’ sleep before sunrise. You reek of blood.”
She glared at him, feeling the comfortable silence wash away to be replaced with fury. Gods he truly got beneath her skin.
“Speak for yourself,” she spat, turning on her heel to head towards the castle.
“I still expect you in the training ring at first light,” he called after her.
“Unfortunately,” she muttered and left his lone figure in the moonlight.
She realised later as she slid into the hot bath that she had not thanked him, even though she was still quite convinced she had not needed saving.
~~~
Training at sunrise was different to the other times Elijah and Arii had sparred.
It was as if something had begun to lift between them. The air remained filled with the crackle of sparks, but there was now an unexplained understanding. A new light had entered Arii’s eyes as they clashed swords and parried each other’s blows, seeming to work together rather than against each other.
Her move complemented his move.
His move made her dip into another.
Their bodies met, but always for a moment. Never long enough for her to glimpse under his hood.
He never let her get that close.
They bantered and insulted one another, both far too stubborn to admit that when working together they were almost unstoppable.
And so, they danced for hours, showered in the rays of a new day.
Chapter Twelve
Covered in sweat and feeling spent, Arii paced down the hall towards her rooms. Hair stuck to her neck with perspiration, her muscles ached and some actually throbbed with dull pain.
It was a good feeling, a feeling she missed.
Arii smiled to herself as she neared her rooms, silently pleased with Elijah’s training today. Alright, she admitted that he drove her near to insanity with his barked orders and snide remarks, but he knew how to fight. She felt she could indeed learn from him if she allowed herself to listen.
“Miss Clearwater?”
Arii jerked to a halt, her eyes meeting Lorch’s as he paced towards her. She felt the air shift around her and suddenly she realised that his expression was unfamiliar. Tense. Almost angry.
Oh shit.
He knew of her escape last night. Had Elijah tattled on her? Surely not.
Actually, she backtracked as her mind groaned.
Of course he would.
The King paused before her, his breath the only sound in the deserted hall.
She swallowed slowly.
“What were you thinking?” He hissed.
Argh gods here we go.
“Your Highness, if you’ll let me explain.” Suddenly he was before her, his sapphire eyes intense as he towered into her personal space. His hands gripped her shoulders, and she knew he was a breath away from shaking her.
What in Nyx’s name was his problem?
“You could have been killed, and for what? A bloody rumour?”
She felt confusion wash over her, before the heat of his fingers on her skin replaced her attention. He was close, so close that she could feel the vibrations of his anger, shaking his body in tiny tremors. She surveyed his face, saw the anger glittering and mixed with fear in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched with a little tick to the corner.
“I had to see for myself,” she whispered in weak defence, pausing her inspection of his lips.
He was pausing too, his eyes fixed on her mouth now. Weeks of built-up tension seemed to gather at mass in the small space between them.
Lorch’s eyes darkened.
His own lips parted, and he blew out a breath. A long, low and seemingly decided breath, his head tilting ever so slightly.
Then his lips met hers.
The kiss was hard, his lips claiming hers like they were starved.
Against all her better judgement, she found she was kissing him back.
Lorch shifted her to the wall, pressing her back to the flawless gold metal. She gasped as the cool material hit the exposed skin of her arms, her breath swallowed by his lips as he moved his hand to cup the nape of her neck, fingers sliding into her hair.
Her own hands were moving of their own accord, one gripping his back, the other twisted on his bicep. His arms were lean, strong and defined. He was not bulk and muscle like many of the soldiers of the castle, but that did not make him any less enticing. He wore a simple tunic, the first two buttons on his chest undone. The sleeves were pushed up, and she realised that in the moments before he had begun kissing her, he had looked flustered.
Flustered over her? Surely not.
His tongue slid across her lips and she swore she could hear panting.
With a sudden feeling of horror, she realised it was her who was panting.
Dark sapphire eyes held her in an iron grip as Lorch’s lips left hers, and they curled into a slow, languid smile.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that,” he sighed, his voice husky before pulling her to him again when she did not protest.
She had no idea how much she had wanted this until it was happening, too. Lorch pulled her against his chest, and she found one of her hands was tangled in his hair, his perfectly swept, thick copper-tinged hair. He smelled like sweet wine laced with a hint of vanilla and honey. His bath soap? He smelled clean, as if he had bathed not long ago.
His lips glided to her neck and she felt as if she were falling.
Gods, it had been too long since she had been with someone. Lorch’s teeth grazed her skin, and she heard a low, breathy moan.
She realised that sound was hers, too.
Since when had she become a mewling little kitten? Had she not been swept up in the moment, she would have kicked herself. Warmth curled in her gut, and she felt a fire slowly being stoked in her core. Lorch’s lips drifted up her neck to her earlobe, and she decided in that moment that she would beg like a little puppy if he decided to stop.
Gods and foreign feelings be damned.
She moaned, and his breath tickled her ear as he chuckled darkly.
“I didn’t think you’d feel the same way…”
“I think t
hat fact I have not pushed you away is proof enough of that,” she whispered breathlessly.
His lips were on hers again, and she felt his hand at the front of her fighting leathers. He growled, nipping her bottom lip. “I have no idea how to remove this thing.”
“I think it’s best you don’t, Lorch.”
At that, he paused, his hand pressed against her breast. Her heart was thundering beneath his palm, a bird fluttering within the confines of her ribcage.
“It is not that I do not want you to…” she began gently.
Lorch pressed his forehead against hers, their breath mingled before them. “Apologies, Miss Clearwater. I…” he trailed off, panting and seemingly remembering himself within the fog of lust.
Her finger slipped between them and rested delicately against the bow of his lips. “Don’t apologize. You are the King of the North - you can have whatever and whomever you want.”
Lorch’s eyes met hers, and they were like two endless pools in a raging sea. They say the eyes are a window to one’s soul. She knew then that she saw a glimmer of his soul within – a shimmering of kindness, misunderstanding, and of someone who was lost, a flicker of light of someone who could perhaps bring about change.
And she was no longer sure she could be the cause of that light to fade.
Lorch’s eyes drifted closed and he placed a hand on her cheek, the touch tender and soft. No one had ever touched her like this. No one.
She had never allowed it, until now.
She realised she wanted him. More than she had wanted anything in a long time, but she was sure she smelled of sweat and leather. If one were to lay with a King, it could not be minutes after a heavy session of sparring in a training ring.
“You know, I can see purple in your eyes,” Lorch said suddenly, causing her body to freeze. His expression was light, no longer a hint of anger in the smooth lines of his face.
Her lips curled hesitantly and Lorch’s lips met hers in a gentle kiss, the fire and hunger from earlier ebbing to flicking embers between them.
Lorch was first to pull away, albeit slowly. His lips hovered an inch from hers as he said, “Winter Solstice is in a week, there will be a large party to celebrate. It’s a tradition my family has kept for years.” He kissed her again, then paused. “I want you to attend, but not on guard duty.”
Her hand was halfway up his arm, feeling the smooth, hot skin and taut muscles of his bicep when she paused.
“I want you to attend as my guest,” he added.
She leaned back, and saw his eyes held a twinkle.
Her lips curled slightly into a smirk. “Scandalous.”
“And what we are doing here is not?”
He had a point, but to parade amongst the people like she was one of them? That would take some convincing.
She felt unease, but the expression on his face wiped it away.
“It’s fancy dress. Masks and all. You could keep your identity a secret,” he persisted.
Well then, perhaps she could take the risk. A night of fun that did not involve blood and death? She was not sure she had ever experienced such a thing.
“Alright, I’ll attend.”
Lorch’s eyes lit with fire and he kissed her again, the passion reigniting as he pressed her to the wall once more, one hand braced with fingers splayed against the metal beside her head. They remained tangled for a few more stolen moments, and the pit of fire that raged in her stomach was almost too much to bear.
Lorch spoke first after a few moments. “They’ll be looking for me,” he said, and she heard the tone of sadness in his voice. She too almost felt sad he had to go.
What was she becoming?
“You mean your constant shadow named Elijah will be looking for you,” she pointed out. Lorch laughed against her lips.
“Yes.” He smiled. “I will see you soon, Miss Clearwater.” He stepped back from her, fixing his shirt and running a hand through his mussed hair. His cheeks were tinged pink and he looked breathless.
He looked divine.
Her tongue pressed against her elongated canines; the magic used to dull them dropping for just a moment as she used the pain to pull her mind from its desire induced haze. She could only wonder at what she looked like in that moment.
With a wink that had her heart fluttering, Lorch turned and swiftly paced down the hallway.
Arii watched his retreating back.
Nyx’s arse she was in trouble.
It was then she caught her reflection in the golden wall across from her, and she noticed that the woman looking back at her was wide eyed, blushing and swollen lipped.
She looked thoroughly and utterly shocked.
The woman staring back at her was unfamiliar… a stranger.
A dark shadow began to emerge, and the woman’s features slowly transformed, taking on their usual stoic expression – eyes narrowing to slits. She felt confusion, then anger. What was she doing? She had him alone, perfectly alone and she could have easily slid her dagger between his ribs, directly into his heart. It would have been completely and utterly silent.
Anger shivered down her body, replacing the warmth she had felt seconds ago with cold ice.
Arii stormed to her rooms, slamming the door behind her.
~~~
Lips caressed her bare shoulder, and her head rolled to the side to allow them better access. Flames trailed along her skin where the lips went, fire ignited deep in her belly and her legs became jelly. His lips were soft, gentle, his nose caressing her earlobe. Teeth nipped the tip of her pointed ear and she felt the ground quake beneath her, and soon his lips met hers. They were hungry, needy, and devoured her whole. Her nails dug into the skin of his back as his weight pressed down on her. The pressure caused her body to sing – her mind whirling with unchecked desire.
She opened her mouth to his, and her canines pinched his full bottom lip. A light husky chuckle, a brush of fingertips on her lower back. Dark sapphire eyes shadowed with desire found hers, and King Lorch Kruel pulled her closer against his body, his breath laced with the smell of sweet wine as he whispered, “Have you come to kill me, little Fury?”
Arii’s eyes snapped open as thunder boomed outside, awakening her from her light slumber. She never slept deeply, even the sound of a mouse in her heightened Fae hearing had her eyes snapping open and her hand reaching for the blade under her pillow.
Now, her brow was covered in sweat, and her lip ached as if she had almost pierced it with her canines during sleep.
A remnant of her incredible, thrilling dream.
She cursed the skies silently for her rude awakening.
Thunder boomed through the halls of the castle, as if the Gods were clashing in the skies above. Rain crashed against the windows relentlessly, the flash of lightning a strobe across the bedroom where Arii now lodged. The thunder boomed again, and she rolled over in the covers, the fire in the hearth nearby still crackling with smouldering embers, not quite enough to warm the room completely.
Unable to sleep after her heated dream, Arii sat up and pushed a hand through her sleep-mussed hair, before sliding from bed and dressing swiftly in loose pants and a white blouse, tucking in the shirt half-heartedly. She snatched a soft blue cloak from the hook by her door.
She felt like a mess.
Perhaps a walk around the cool castle halls would calm her boiling blood.
Exiting her rooms and nodding to the guards standing nearby, she slipped down the hall lit with an array of flaming sconces, their warm light warring with the silver flashing through the windows from the storm. As she walked, lifting the cloak about her shoulders, the light tap of her shoes was the only sound in the hall between the cracks of thunder and the distant hum of the waterfall.
Arii was not sure what brought her there, but without thought sh
e was soon standing at the doors to the library. She felt a strange pull, like something had a hold within her chest and was luring her there with an invisible string.
She swallowed thickly, tongue wetting her lips as she pressed a hand against the door, feeling an unimaginable weight pushing in on her as her hearing seemed to dull.
There it was again, the taste of magic on her tongue, like a thin sheet of dissolving sugar candy on her tastebuds.
She pressed open the door and entered the library.
The glass dome encasing the room was lit with flashes of lightning, the stained glass which normally threw a rainbow of colours over the room now showered the place in glittering silver. The bookshelves were immaculate, the pool in the centre reflecting the storm above without a ripple. Slowly, her eyes were magnetised to a figure by the farthest window.
Oh by the Gods…
The figure turned to her slowly, his face in the shadow of his hood, having been staring out the window as she entered. Arii swallowed, her eyes narrowing as she closed the door behind her. That weight on her shoulders, pressing down on her very being, remained.
It always remained when Elijah was nearby.
He pushed from the wall, approaching her slowly, cape brushing the floor with a gentle swish. She noticed his sleeves were pushed up, revealing powerful forearms. One was marred with a set of jagged pink scars, standing out from his moonlit flesh. Remnants left by the Kryvern the night she saved the King, she recalled. Elijah stopped in front of her, towering, the air about him crackling with energy.
“Apologies…” he murmured, his voice like silk, and uncharacteristically gentle. She felt the familiar curl of her toes, moving of their own accord. As he began to slip past her, Arii paused him with a hand to his arm before she could stop herself. He was an absolute enigma to her, the King’s shadow, who moved like death itself.
She had to know more about him.
Love, Blood & Fury Page 18
