Love, Blood & Fury

by Melissa J Kincaid

  Her eyes slid across the room, seeing the familiar imperfect stone walls, the smattering of vines as they crawled through a breach in the wall and spread across the stone. There was a damp, salty smell in the air, a constant reminder of their proximity to the ocean.

  The School of Fate.

  Her lungs expanded as she breathed in deep, taking in the familiar scents of her home. The crumbling structure perched upon the bluff was nothing in comparison to the glittering gold castle of Viridya, but the old building had its own kind of strange, ancient charm. It was old, run down and half falling apart, but it was home.

  She felt tingling in her fingers, her lungs expanding again as a feeling of lightness washed over her.

  Magic.

  It simmered through her veins, like liquid starlight. With a small sigh, she welcomed the feeling with wide open arms.

  Feeling like part of her soul had clicked back into place, Arii’s lips twitched with a smile, before her eyes slowly rested on a cloaked figure, sitting beside her bed.

  His dark hair was bathed in silver light, his body leaning forward and arms resting on his knees. Elijah’s dark, brooding face was angled, his brilliant mercury eyes fixed entirely on her.

  She felt that familiar weight of his gaze upon her, that hot sizzle down her spine and the rising of the hairs on her arms. At first, she had thought it was her magic reacting to the man, but after seeing him in Bonemire when her magic had been stripped – Arii knew the feeling was far deeper, something within her very soul.

  “Do you often watch women while they sleep?” she said by way of greeting, her lips parting in a wide yawn as she hesitantly stretched.

  “Not often do I find myself rescuing women from Bonemire,” he replied, his voice deep and soft in the silent room.

  Arii rubbed her eyes, before pausing at the lightness of her arms. She lifted her hands in front of her, almost crying in relief as she realised the iron manacles had been removed. All that remained was lightly irritated pink skin around her wrists. Her eyes found his once more.

  “You saved me. How… How did you know where I was?”

  Elijah paused before speaking. “When you did not appear for training the morning after Winter Solstice, I presumed it was due to the copious amounts of wine and mead you consumed during the night.” He tilted his head, surveying her.

  Argh, he had been watching.

  Elijah did not mention that he had first looked for her in the company of the King, deciding it best that that detail was left untold. “But when you did not show the second day, I grew suspicious.”

  She offered a weak smile. “You thought I was off slicing up bandits on the road again?”

  Elijah shook his head briefly. “No - something felt… off. I could no longer sense you.”

  Sense her? Strange…

  “When I approached Nemesis, she confirmed my suspicions that you were no longer in the castle. The fact that a procession had left headed for Bonemire was not unusual, but I placed the pieces together.”

  Arii’s eyes remained fixed on the hard lines of his face, the shadows flickering over his features from the flames of the fire in the hearth. The stubble upon his cheeks and chin seemed darker… thicker.

  She thanked the Gods then that he was so observant. She was absolutely positive that she would not have been able to escape Bonemire on her own. He had saved her life.

  “You endured something unimaginable in the fortress, your injuries were complex and strange.” He surveyed her, eyes flicking over her face as if she were a puzzle to solve. “The healers said you had injuries that looked to have been weeks old on the outside, but when they delved deeper…” He paused. “The tissue of your injuries looked to have been damaged hours before.”

  Arii swallowed.

  “Look, Elijah I – I don’t know how far your loyalties run when it comes to Valdis Kruel-”

  “I serve Lorch, not Valdis. He may be the King’s Hand – but my loyalties ultimately lie with the King, and no other…”

  When Arii remained silent, Elijah hand began to twitch her way – but stopped, as if he had thought better of it.

  “What did he do to you?” he asked softly. Had Arii not known Elijah, she would not have heard the hint of suppressed anger in his deep voice, coating the tone of concern.

  “He…” Her eyes lifted to his after a slight pause. “He experimented on me, using iron and Nexus Crystal. He seems to think there is a way to control those things – there are more of them, many more Elijah. I’m unsure if he got the answers he sought before you found me…” Her voice trailed off and a phantom bloom of pain speared across her chest, as if her mind were fighting against the memories.

  When Elijah remained silent, she wondered if he could see the pain she was trying so hard to hide. Her eyes dropped to her pink wrists, her hands resting on the sheets in front of her and their location in that moment dawned on her. Her features were unveiled, her eyes vivid violet and skin luminous, and they were in the place where they trained young Fae to become assassins.

  “We have to talk,” she said, her eyes reluctantly sliding back to Elijah.

  As she thought, his gaze was still fixed on her, and she felt the familiar thrum of something in the air when she was around him.

  “Indeed, we do,” he agreed, his tone unreadable.

  Arii swallowed thickly, watching him in silence for just a moment before speaking. She felt he was waiting for her to speak first, and she was almost unsure of where to begin when Elijah spoke.

  “You’re one of the Fae.”

  It was not a question. More like a statement. She nodded in answer.

  “So, your strength, your battle prowess - you learned it all here?”

  Another nod as she took her bottom lip between her teeth. She was waiting for an explosion, for him to yell and scream at her in anger of this revelation, for keeping the truth from him.

  Elijah did no such thing, proceeding to stare at her thoughtfully in the firelight.

  “And I’m presuming you are a Fury, one of the assassins trained here by the Sisters of Fate.” He had been quick to piece it all together. She had known Elijah was no simpleton, he had a mind as sharp as the sword he carried at his hip.

  “Yes, all correct,” she said, noticing his eyes were on her lips then, watching as her bottom lip popped from between her teeth.

  Why was it that his intense gaze had her feeling almost… self-conscious?

  She never felt self-conscious.

  Her hand lifted to her face, feeling that her swollen eye was healed, and her split lip was gone.

  Elijah’s eyes tracked her hand before they met hers.

  “Why were you sent to Viridya, Ariiaya? Why hide under the guise of a mere servant girl, and endure the training and guard duty?”

  Arii felt she was treading dangerous waters. She could not tell him the true reason for her undercover operation in the castle. He may have saved her life, but she knew him well enough to know that as soon as the truth spilled from her lips, his sword would be through her heart before she could blink. She saw the metal glint at his hip, as if to emphasize the thought.

  “Perhaps I simply admired the King?” she hedged, shrugging her shoulders.

  Elijah’s lips twitched. “I guess that is likely. Lorch does seem to have a way with women. I would not be surprised if he worked his magic on you.”

  Elijah now knew what she was, what she was capable of. The irony of his choice of words was not lost on her.

  Arii huffed at this, her hand clutching the sheets as she glanced down once more. She remembered the feel of Lorch’s body against her own, skin on skin as their bodies melded as one on the night of Winter Solstice. Her fingers gripping the sheets reminded her of his hands tangled in hers upon the white bedcovers as warm pleasure bloomed through he
r body.

  “That he did…” she whispered absentmindedly.

  Elijah shifted in her peripheral vision, and the air in the room suddenly felt cold. Her eyes lifted to him, and she was not expecting the glint of silver anger in his eyes.

  “You and Lorch…” He did not finish, but his meaning was clear.

  Her hackles began to rise at his tone, her eyes narrowing into slits.

  “What is it to you if we spent the night together?” she snapped.

  Elijah was standing then, the wooden chair skidding back as he went rigid, his hands balled to fists at his sides.

  “He… He is the King! And you’re a-”

  His mouth gaped as sudden realisation dawned upon him.

  “You were sent there to kill him.”

  Another non-question.

  Arii sat up straight in the bed, her own hands balling.

  “Yes, alright, yes! That is why I was there.” She threw back the sheets covering her as Elijah turned and headed for the door.

  “But I didn’t!” she yelled at his back as her bare feet slapped the stone floor.

  Elijah paused before the door, his body so rigid she wondered if his spine would snap. Suddenly he was whirling, his face twisted with fury as he stalked towards her.

  She barrelled on, a strange sense of fear coiling in her gut. Not of him, but at how close he was to leaving. Had her mind not been so preoccupied at the thought of his near departure and the strange feelings it dredged up, she would have slapped herself again at the fissure forming in her defences.

  “I couldn’t do it, I…”

  He was before her then, tension radiating from his body in tsunami waves, his face inches from her own. Her shoulders began to quake under his shadow, her nails biting into her palms.

  “I would rather fight the strings of fate than harm a hair on his head. On either of your heads.” She whispered hoarsely, her voice thick with emotion.

  Elijah’s eyes flicked across her face, and when his expression did not change, her voice dropped to barely a whisper.

  “A Fury is not meant to feel what I have been feeling over the last few weeks. We are not meant to question fate, and we sure as hell aren’t meant to develop… feelings.” Upon the last word – her voice cracked.

  Elijah’s eyes softened ever so slightly and his face began to change.

  She laid herself bare to him then. Her eyes dropped to his boots, as if she could not bear to look at his face as the words spilled forth.

  “But after getting to know you both, I have done just that. I have questioned everything! Everything I have ever been taught, everything I have been trained not to feel.” Her voice began to rise, and she felt the air crackle with electricity.

  Elijah was silent as he towered over her.

  Tears pricked in her eyes, real godsdamn tears and she could not stop them. Her walls - her carefully constructed walls were crumbling around her and she could not stop the dam threatening to burst forth from her heart. She recalled the warmth in their silver depths as his head inclined towards his painting – a dimple appearing on his cheek as she praised his talents by the shimmering pool. She remembered his face as he gazed down at her on the floor of the cell, his arms coming around her as he lifted her to his chest.

  His eyes as they swept over her damaged face.

  Concern, anger, thinly veiled fury behind a cover of storm clouds.

  It caused her vision to swim as she finally said, “And I would not change a single moment, nor do I have a single regret. Yes, I was sent to the castle with orders to kill, but I would not have done anything differently,” she swallowed before whispering, “I do not regret questioning fate.”

  Fingers touched her chin, then hesitantly her jaw – gently bringing her face up. Elijah’s hand slid to cup her cheek, and through the swimming of tears in her eyes she saw he was watching her with an intensity that she did not have the words to describe. His face was wiped of anger, replaced with a look similar to the first time she had uncovered his face in the library, the first time she had seen his incredible features and silver eyes. It was awe, as if he were seeing her for the first time, his eyes shimmering with an intensity she was not sure she was ready for. She supposed he was seeing a part of her unveiled which she had never allowed anyone to see before - a part of her which was always there but hidden so deep she had believed it gone.

  Hesitantly he leaned in, his lips brushed hers with the tenderness of butterfly wings. She felt as if her legs would give out, her entire being having been torn asunder over the last two days, not just physically but mentally. He was her anchor in that moment, the only thing keeping her from drifting away.

  What had kept her clinging to sanity during Valdis’ torture was not only thoughts of her friends – Krepth and Nemesis, people she had known for half her life, but those she had discovered over the last month. Tikkani’s crude humour, Emerson’s blushing cheeks and Quinn’s cheeky grin. She had envisioned her night spent with Lorch, his easy smile and the unexpected gentleness he was not truly known for.

  Then there was Elijah, the dark and mysterious man whose eyes mirrored a haunting inside him that she had not had the chance to discover. Nor had she the chance to help erase the hazy pain in his eyes, the pain she knew he felt within his soul. As he had looked down at her in Bonemire, she had seen that exact feeling mirrored in his eyes, a flame of determination to end her suffering, flickering like the beginning of a firestorm.

  Now, that firestorm was making its way through her veins, igniting something within her chest. As Elijah’s lips slanted across her own, a little more forcefully this time, she felt it rage into an inferno.

  Despite everything she had done, despite what she was and how he no doubt viewed her kind, he kissed her. Kissed her with a tenderness that curled her toes and snatched her breath from her lungs. His hands slid around her waist, her own sliding around his neck and burying in his thick hair as he lifted her up, his grip surprisingly firm despite her fragile state a few hours ago.

  Thank the Gods for the healing power of magic.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist as their kiss deepened. He tasted of the forests around Evergrave, of pine and woodsmoke.

  He tasted of home.

  Gently, Elijah lay her on the bed, his body following to cover hers, the cool buckles of his uniform pressing against the skin of her abdomen as her loose tunic rose with their movements.

  Fire, it burned her from the inside out.

  She heard the clatter of his sword as it hit the floor, so consumed with him that she had not noticed him removing the weapon. Their kisses became deeper, less hesitant and more desperate. Hungry, heated. They hardly broke apart as her hands flew to the front of his uniform and using just a flicker of magic, she popped the buckles and clips of his leather tunic.

  He paused, their fervent breaths melding as his lips hovered above hers. She had begun to push the tunic over his broad shoulders when he whispered, “Arii, wait.”

  She stopped to meet his eyes. She waited - partly because he had asked but also because she was suddenly breathless. Then she inhaled sharply as her gaze danced down and caught sight of his body.

  Elijah’s torso was perfectly sculpted, his arms and chest solid with hardened muscle. His body was a canvas of battle scars, healed to little ridges. On his chest was a light dusting of dark hair, and trailing lower she saw a puckered scar on his lower abdomen.

  Stories upon his flesh, just like her own.

  She wanted to ask him for their stories, learn how he received each one, but now was not the time. Her eyes lifted to his, and she expected to see a frown.

  Instead, his face held a surprisingly hesitant look – lips pursed, and brows drawn. “You were close to death only a few hours ago, perhaps we should stop,” he whispered.

  Gods, she did not
want to stop. Fire was pooling in her core, and she wanted so badly to sate the intense desire now rocketing through her body. His eyes were dark silver pools, his body thrumming as if it were taking all his immense strength to hold back. It pressed against hers, his thighs aligned with her own and she knew he felt exactly as she did in that moment.

  Elijah Wolfe, seemingly the master of self-control, was quivering on the edge of the same cliff as herself, mere steps from freefall.

  Her eyes flicked across his face, seeking any other signs of uncertainty, but was met with a look of dark smouldering silver.

  Decided, her hands gently pushed the tunic over the bunched muscles of his shoulders, watching as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his shoulder, before brushing her canines against the thrumming pulse at the base of his thick neck, the beast rising and rippling beneath her skin.

  “I don’t want to stop,” she breathed against his earlobe.

  “Ariiaya…” he whispered hoarsely, her name a prayer and a curse. A slow smile curled her lips, igniting her blood with sparks.

  Swiftly he removed his leather tunic and rested against her again, his weight causing her body to sing. She had not known that such intense, soul-altering desire such as this even existed. Her time with Lorch had been gentle and sweet, a moment she did not regret, nor would she forget.

  This though, this feeling with Elijah was bordering on primal. Despite wishing to have his skin against hers, she felt the strange need to prolong the moment, wring every little sound and feeling she could from him - and she wanted to hear her name as a whisper on his lips a thousand times more.

  He was magnificent, every inch of him moulded from years of intense training. The Fae within her was clawing, keening to be released.

  No holding back.

  No suppression of her true nature.

  She did not wish to hold back any longer, the feelings thundering forth like a raging, whipping storm. Fae loved with a fierce intensely, almost to the point of obsession. Until now she had never felt what she had only heard described in textbooks in the Fate’s library, and by those who had been lucky enough to have the feeling themselves.