by Jen McIntosh
She was panting now, and he grinned, trailing his tongue higher and higher up her leg. She froze as he came to a stop, hovering over the apex of her thighs. She shivered as his breath brushed over her skin but did nothing to stop him. He could have taken it as an invitation, but he wanted to hear the words.
‘Say it,’ he breathed.
She knew what he wanted. ‘Yes,’ she begged. ‘Gods, yes.’ Alexan pressed his teeth against her hot flesh and bit down. She cried out, and he was forced to stop, to reach up and cover her mouth with his hand.
‘Quiet,’ he admonished her with a soft growl. ‘Graced ears are sharp.’
Théon gasped as he removed his hand, quivering beneath him. She nodded, her eyes wide. Satisfied, he lowered himself back down her body. Gently, he lapped up the blood that had dripped down between her legs and tried not to laugh as she shuddered with the effort of staying silent. He closed his mouth over the wound and sucked hard once, before trailing his tongue across her damp heat. She moaned and writhed beneath him. He pinned her hips still with his hands and continued mercilessly. Vaguely aware that she stifled her cry of pleasure with her own arm as she shook apart beneath his mouth.
Gods, she was exquisite. He let her catch her breath as he trailed his lips back up her body, fingers exploring lower, and grinned when his touch had her panting in moments. What pleasure could he wring from a body so responsive? He was going to take his sweet time finding out—
A male voice shattered the night.
‘Théon?’
He made to surge to his feet, but Théon got there first, rolling over and pinning him beneath her. Her hand found his mouth in the darkness and covered it, eyes flashing with warning. It was only then he sensed the Casting – a glamour to shield them from whoever approached. Pride and no small amount of surprise swelled in his chest. She’d reacted so fast. Likely saved his life.
Definitely, he realised, recognising the dark-haired figure striding through the dunes towards their dying fire.
Kah Faolin.
Where the fuck had he come from?
She motioned for him to stay where he was, hidden in the dunes, while she dressed quickly. She circled around, so she was across the fire from the fierce-eyed Dragon. Then she let her glamour drop.
‘Faolin?’ she called out, standing and peering over the flames. ‘What are you doing here?’
The Dragon drew to a halt, glancing around in suspicion. ‘I could ask you the same thing, though I’m more interested in why you’ve abandoned your sister in her time of need?’
‘You’ve spoken to Illyandi.’
He nodded, handsome face grim. ‘She told me everything. Where’s the Darkling?’
‘Gone,’ Théon lied. ‘I sent him away. I knew it wouldn’t be safe for him here.’
The Dragon’s hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘But you’ll believe Illyandi? Who got herself pregnant just to make sure you’d stay with her?’
‘Trust me, I’m no more happy about it than you are,’ he snapped. ‘But that’s between Illyandi and I, and it has nothing to do with this conversation. I know her well enough to separate her feelings from the facts, but even then, Théon … to not only suffer a Darkling to live, but to let it feed on you? To choose a Darkling over your own family?’
‘News gets around fast,’ she murmured. ‘How did you find us?’
Faolin held up his hand. Showed her the ring on his finger. The partner to the one Illyandi wore. ‘Resari warned me you were in danger. That we had led the Darkling to you. But it wasn’t until you let it feed from you that Illyandi called me. ’
A slender figure appeared at his side. Silver-haired and stormy-eyed. Sil Dorrien. There was disgust on that lovely face, softened only slightly by a mixture of sorrow and concern.
‘Just tell us where it is, Théon,’ she breathed, ‘and we can put this all behind us.’
Théon took a step back. ‘He has a name.’
‘He had a name,’ Dorrien snarled, ‘and then the King filled his veins with poison, and the man you knew died. That thing just wears his face. It’s your father’s puppet, Théon. You cannot trust it.’
Such vehement hatred from the otherwise cool and unyielding Dragon was enough to make Alexan flinch. Not that he’d blame her, if the stories were true. If she’d watched, a helpless child, while the Darkling Queens ripped her mother apart.
Théon was still moving. Circling slowly. Inching her way towards him. Placing herself between him and the Dragons in case the glamour failed. Fear was a fist about his throat. For himself. For his lover. For his Queen. Even as her fingers curled round the hilt of her sword, the hint of an aura flickered into life around her.
Faolin seemed to sense the threat of violence brewing in the air. ‘Théon, please. At least come back to the safe house with us. Illyandi’s waiting. We can be safe behind the wards of the sanctuary in moments, then we can talk.’
‘No.’ The word was almost unintelligible. A guttural growl ground out from between clenched teeth. ‘You think the wards offer safety, but all I see is a cage. One you would lock me in forever, if I gave you the chance.’
‘It’s for your own good, Théon,’ Dorrien warned. ‘The Darkling has warped your mind. Made you forget who you are.’
Théon laughed at that. A cold, humourless sound that sent chills down his spine. The Shade King’s laugh. ‘The old man is the one with the power to warp minds. Even this small freedom has been enough to make me wonder just how much he’s been playing with mine over the years.’
The Dragons exchanged a long look, confirming Alexan’s suspicions. Silvermane’s power wasn’t spent, as he had led Théon to believe. It had just been preoccupied with keeping her obedient. It was only as they’d left the safety of the wards that his control over her had begun to waver. Given Alexan the opening he’d needed, even though his blood boiled at the violation.
‘We don’t want to fight you, Théon,’ Faolin began.
She laughed again. ‘I don’t doubt it – your father taught you how to pick your battles, and you’re smart enough to know when you’re outmatched. Fortunately for you, I don’t want to fight either. I’d rather not dishonour my mother’s memory by spilling the blood of her kin. So why don’t we all just turn around and walk away?’
‘We can’t let you do that,’ said Faolin gravely. ‘Not when you’ve betrayed our secrets to our enemies. We will find the Darkling, with or without your help, but either way, it is going to die. Even if it wasn’t in our blood to kill it, it’s too dangerous to be left alive with all the knowledge you’ve given it.’
Théon smiled, a dark and bitter thing. ‘You mean I am too dangerous to be left alive.’
The Dragon at least had the good grace not to deny it. ‘Only if you give us reason not to trust you, cousin.’
‘And choosing my freedom over my idiot sister gives you pause, is that it?’ she purred. ‘I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about sibling loyalty, Faolin. I’m not the one trying to usurp my sister’s throne.’
‘Don’t start,’ he snarled. ‘Resari is bastard-born. The clans wouldn’t follow her even if she wasn’t a Ni—’
Théon cut him off with a warning growl. ‘She did what was necessary. As I am doing now.’ She loosed a Casting, a howling wind screaming past her and shoving the Dragons down. Then she spun on her heel – even as they roared and Changed – and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Run.’
And though it went against every instinct, he did as he was bid.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The cabin was tiny. Renila glanced around as she entered. A fire burned in the hearth, a solitary armchair in front of it. There was a table with two chairs, but only one bed – if you could call it that. It would be barely large enough to accommodate someone as tall and broad as Alvar. The ceiling was so low he had to stoop. He heaved a resigned sigh as he pushed his way inside, dumping his pack by the door. Renila followed him, her heart
in her throat.
‘Close the door,’ he ordered. She did as she was bid but hovered anxiously while he pulled the wet cloak from his shoulders and hung it on a peg in the corner. His hands were mesmerising as he divested himself of his sword belt, long fingers sure and strong. She could only watch in awe while he removed the dozen daggers he had hidden about his person with lethal precision. He’d washed his hands of the Darkling blood, but his shirt was still soaked with it. Without realising what she was doing, Renila removed her own cloak and began rummaging in his pack for clean clothes. She found a shirt and handed it to him with trembling hands, all too aware of the vast expanse of his bare chest as he tossed the bloody shirt on the floor.
‘Look at me,’ he demanded, his voice near guttural. Still shaking, she inhaled and raised her eyes to meet his.
The storm was building. She could see it churning beneath his skin. Outside, the winds were rising, and rain lashed against the tiny window. His bloody shirt lay discarded on the floor, the clean one in his hand forgotten as he watched her with predatory intent. Try as she might, Renila couldn’t help herself. She shivered in the force of his gaze. Her blood heated in her veins as she watched the muscles of his chest shift and tense with his breathing. Her body was aching for him, as if it knew beyond any doubt they were meant to be together, even though her heart screamed at the betrayal of Farran.
‘How do I know you?’ she asked. The words came out sharper than she’d intended, but she was so tired of suffering.
Those thunderstorm eyes shuttered, and he pulled the shirt over his head, the spell broken. ‘As I said – you were brought to me for shelter.’
‘But that’s not all of it, is it?’
‘No.’
It was going to be like that then. Right. ‘Will you treat with me, Alvar Darkstorm, Prince of Immortals?’
Alvar eyed her with all the caution with which one approaches a live snake. ‘What do you want?’
‘Answers.’
He scowled. ‘I can’t tell you everything you want to know.’
‘Then I’ll settle for honesty. Tell me what you can, but promise you won’t ever lie to me,’ she demanded.
‘I’ve never lied to you a day in your life. I’m not about to start now,’ he told her, his lips twisting with the ghost of a smile. ‘What do you offer in return?’
She hesitated. What did she have to offer that he would want? No, that was the wrong question, she realised. The question was, was she prepared to give him what he desired? Only one way to find out. ‘Me.’
He blinked, then grinned, crossing the tiny space between them in two steps. He placed his hands on the wall either side of her head and crowded her back against the door, his eyes glinting with menace and mischief. ‘Are you a whore now, Renila? Offering your body to get what you want?’
Her breath caught in her throat, and though she felt afraid, it was not the only feeling coursing through her veins. He was close, yes, but he hadn’t so much as laid a finger on her – as if he didn’t presume to touch her without her permission.
‘It’s the only thing I have that you want,’ she breathed, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. She wished she sounded stronger. He chuckled, leaning in as if to kiss her throat, though once more, he stopped himself short. She gasped at the warm breath that caressed the sensitive skin, part of her desperate to pull away and another part longing to feel it again. But she held firm, even as her body quaked with fear. She wanted answers. Ignorance had only seen her ripped from her home, her son and all that she loved. Alvar pulled back, his face inches from hers while he considered her with those thundercloud eyes.
‘If I wanted you, Renila,’ he murmured, ‘I would want you warm and willing, not shaking like a mortal virgin facing the marriage bed. And certainly not selling yourself to me to extract a promise.’ He straightened, giving her space to breathe. ‘You want my word? You have it. I ask for nothing in return.’
Then he was gone, retreating to the other side of the room. She closed her eyes and stifled a gasp – whether of relief or disappointment, she wasn’t sure. The cold air that rushed in around her only heightened her awareness of his absence, and part of her cried out for the warmth that had radiated from his body. She shuddered and took a deep gulp of air before opening her eyes. Alvar was leaning against the wall across the room, arms folded over his chest, waiting expectantly. She pulled a blanket from her pack and wrapped it around her shoulders for warmth, before sitting at the table. His gaze was impassive, though she could see the muscles rippling along the edge of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Renila did not feel afraid.
She held up the necklace, the bird-shaped pendant. Best to start with something simple. ‘What is this?’
‘A talisman – a spell, a glamour, to hide your power.’
‘My power?’
He nodded. ‘You know the stories. Graced magic is revealed by heaven’s light.’
‘So those stories I told the children … they were all real?’
He nodded again. ‘Embellished and overwrought in places, but the Old Tales are grounded in truth.’
She took a deep breath. So much for the straightforward questions.
‘Who am I?’ she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
‘Renila Blackfire,’ he said. She waited for him to explain. ‘It’s another Immortal House – like Darkstorm or Brightstar.’
‘But I’m not Immortal?’
He hesitated. ‘No. When you were brought to me, I needed a way to hide you. The Blackfire claimed you as her own, so you might be protected as any Immortal child would be. It would have raised too many questions if I had done it myself.’
She didn’t stop to let that sink in. Not when she still needed answers. ‘So the story Arian told is a lie – I’m not some orphan foundling, claimed by Kalielle and smuggled out of Elucion during the Fall?’
‘No.’
‘But you know where I come from?’
‘I cannot speak of it. I swore that I would take that knowledge to my grave. As I told Arian, my oath would kill me before I could even utter the words – not even my Immortality would save me. All I can tell you is that your parents loved you very much and that giving you up was the hardest thing either of them ever did. You were only a week old when you were brought to my city, when your father begged me to shelter you.’
‘And when was that?’
She didn’t miss the tightening of his mouth as he battled with himself over his response. ‘A little over a hundred years ago.’
Renila exhaled slowly through her nose, trying to calm the racing of her heart.
‘Are you going to tell me the truth?’
He didn’t even blink. ‘No.’
‘But you didn’t hesitate to tell Arian – didn’t hesitate to have her lie for you. Why trust her, but not me?’
He held her gaze. ‘There is no lie I could tell Arian regarding your heritage that she would believe. She alone survived the slaughter of Elucion, and she knows that. But it also makes her the only person alive today who could weave a convincing tale about you that others would believe. And the fewer who know the truth, the safer you are. It has nothing to do with trust, Renila, and everything to do with necessity.’
‘But it is unnecessary for me to know?’ she demanded.
His eyes shadowed with something akin to regret. ‘Even if I could tell you all of it, the knowledge would be a cross I do not wish you to ever bear.’
She sighed and shook her head in exasperation. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he was making things so difficult. He was the most stubborn man she’d ever had the misfortune to meet.
‘Alright,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest, ‘what about us? What were we to each other?’
He scowled and looked away. After what felt like an age, he spoke. ‘We were … romantically involved.’
She’d gathered as much. ‘But you’re married.’
‘Gaelan and I haven’t lived
as man and wife for centuries.’ He kept his gaze on the door, but she could see how difficult it was for him to speak of such things. ‘What happened between she and I was nothing to do with you, and I won’t burden you with the weight of it.’
‘I would carry it gladly, if it meant that you might walk through life a little lighter,’ she heard herself saying. Gods only knew why. Still, he huffed a reluctant laugh and looked at her. There was a tenderness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, as though her words stirred some cherished memory inside him.
‘You carry enough,’ he murmured.
She blinked back the tears that rose unbidden to her eyes and scrambled to turn the conversation away from such inexplicable emotions. ‘You don’t bother with “till death do us part” then?’
Alvar snorted. ‘When you live forever, you learn not to make promises like that. Immortal marriage is a somewhat more fluid union than it is with those doomed to die. It’s not uncommon for marriages to be dissolved. People change. It’s unreasonable to bind them together forever and expect them to be happy. My people are many things, but we renounced such cruelties a long time ago.’
‘So why have you and Gaelan stayed together?’
He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture that was surprisingly endearing. ‘Honestly? It was the only way I could protect her. Gaelan has done some rather … questionable things in her life. There are plenty who would see her punished for her actions. My father is one, but so long as we’re wed, he’ll fight for her rather than against her. He’s well respected and has considerable influence amongst my people. So long as he stands by her, she’s safe.’
‘So you still care about her?’
‘She’s been by my side for more than a thousand years, my wife for more than half that, the mother of my child—’ he said, breaking off. He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Of course I care about her. But it’s complicated. Sephiron’s Rebellion broke us both, and when we were remade, we no longer fitted together the same way. Too much has happened between us for things to go back to the way they were before. There are some things that cannot be forgiven, some things that never should.’
