by Bec McMaster
Thiago swears under his breath. “I knew something was wrong with you. I knew it. I could feel you holding me at bay—”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“What?” He spins back to me. “Lie to me?”
Oh, really? “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you. Rather like a certain curse you may have forgotten to mention.”
His jaw turns to granite. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just want to understand…. I was trying to protect you. But you… You don’t trust me to stand by you?”
“I didn’t know what to do!” It all bursts out of me. “I’d just found out you were my husband of thirteen years. But you kept me locked away in Valerian, away from everyone you thought might betray my little secret to me. So yes, I know exactly what this feels like. To know that there’s something going on, but you’re not part of it; to know that everyone around you is conspiring against you…. Yes! I know!
“And then the truth about us was revealed, but I couldn’t remember a fucking thing about our past. You said you loved me. I was starting to trust that it was true, and then the Morai said I was this… this monster.” I stare at him helplessly. “You were the only anchor I could hold onto. When I was in your arms, it was the only time I felt safe. Or… Even myself. I didn’t want to lose that. I just wanted to pretend it was all a horrible dream and it would all go away—"
“I could have protected you.”
“I didn’t… know.” My hands shake. Something wilts inside me. A dawning hope that I wasn’t aware was so fucking fragile still. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if you would….”
Stop loving me.
His face darkens. “I am not your mother.”
“Everything I have ever loved has been taken away from me.” The knot of emotion suddenly chokes me. “I didn’t want to lose you too.”
“Vi. Mother of Night.” Thiago captures my face and breathes the curse across my temples, holding my face between his trembling hands. “Never. I would never forsake you. No matter what happens. You are my breath, my heart, my soul. I’m sorry if I ever gave you reason to doubt that. I’m sorry if you didn’t feel as though you could… trust me.”
It hurts him to say that, I think.
“I should have told you,” I whisper.
A sigh escapes him. “I should have told you about your mother’s curse. Can you forgive me?”
“If you’ll forgive me,” I whisper.
He kisses me fiercely.
And then it’s no longer enough to merely kiss. I throw myself into the embrace, hands sliding desperately up his chest. He’s still wearing his leather vest, but I can feel every hard inch of his body beneath it.
Mine. He’s mine. Forever. No matter what. Relief and desperation form a firestorm of passion within me.
A tremor runs through him, and then teeth sink into my lower lip. My back hits one of the stones that guard the Hallow. Thiago hauls me up into his arms, my thighs locking around his hips.
There’s a part of me that didn’t think he’d accept this.
But there’s possession in his touch and no mercy in his eyes.
“No more secrets.” He punctuates the words with a punishing kiss. “No more lies. I spent thirteen fucking years trapped in a web of deceit. I won’t do it anymore. I won’t. And I promise you I won’t hide things from you anymore.”
I don’t want that either.
His tongue drives into my mouth, fingers digging into my ass. Every hard inch of him shoves me back into the granite, until I rock against him, hips begging for more.
Our eyes meet, and for once we’re in perfect harmony.
Then my hands steal between us, tearing his shirt loose from his trousers and tugging at the buttons on his vest. Teeth rake across my shoulder, a flashpoint of heat igniting within me. It steals a gasp from my lips, but then his mouth covers mine again, and I can’t breathe, except for him.
I don’t think I ever need to breathe again, if this is what I can exist upon.
A growl echoes in his throat as I find him, hot and hard. He thrusts into my palm, consuming me. I can barely feel his cock through the leather. He’s just one enormous, demanding force that fills my palm. Slick heat wets my inner thighs. I know what that cock feels like, filling me up.
I tear my mouth from his just long enough to say. “I want you inside me.”
“Then it’s a shame that you don’t make the orders around here.” My feet hit the ground and he spins me around, one hand sweeping my hair into a knot at the back of my head. “Would you say please, Vi? Would you beg me?”
If this is a means to make amends, then I’m all for it.
Thiago’s other hand slides over my breasts and continues its way down, tracing lazy circles over my abdomen. He kicks my feet apart, leaving me vulnerable and aching.
“Do you want me to beg, my prince?” I bite my lip, trying to contain the shiver that works through me. “Do you want me on my knees? Do you want me at your mercy?”
Mother of Blessed Night. Hard fingers drive between my thighs, molding the leather of my trousers to my skin. It’s just a hint he’s not as in control as he’d like. The friction is delicious, and my nipples ache as they rasp against the stone. Goose bumps shiver over my skin as his other fist knots in my hair.
“I should make you wait, after that,” Thiago whispers, with a wicked chuckle. “And no. I want you right here, just like this. Besides” —his breath caresses the bare slope of the back of my neck— “what makes you think you’re not already at my mercy?”
He knows exactly where to touch me, his fingers dancing over that ecstatic bundle of nerves that will ignite me. The hand in my hair fists, earning a gasp from me. I can’t move. I can’t touch him. All I can do is feel as he tugs the laces on my trousers open and then slides them down my quivering thighs. He slips his fingers inside my drawers.
Instant. Bliss.
I moan and press my forehead to the wall in surrender. Thiago’s fingertips find me wet and swollen, and then he’s tracing teasing little circles around where I need him most. I grind into his touch, trying to bite back the desperate little sound that growls in my throat.
“Give in,” he breathes.
Two fingers drive inside me so suddenly I cry out. “Never.”
There’s another dark laugh behind me. “You’re so fucking stubborn, Vi. Let’s see who breaks first?”
It’s me. I know it’s going to be me.
But I let my hand steal between us, plucking at the ties that close the flap of his trousers. The heated weight of his erection spills into my eager fingers.
“Behave.” He slaps me between the thighs—a shock of sensation that makes me forget to breathe.
He’s never done that before.
Always, always, he is gentle and dedicated and controlled. But this…. I like it.
I squeeze his cock in response, letting my wrist glide up and down. “What are you going to do if I don’t?”
A hiss through his teeth, and he grinds against me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Sensation spears through me as he thrusts those fingers inside me. He curls them slightly, and I feel myself clenching around him. I’m so close to the edge. His hips drive into me, forcing me against his hand. Then his thumb is tracing pure lightning over my clit.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip, desperate not to betray myself. A mouth closes over the side of my throat and he suckles hard as he drives me toward the edge. I don’t know where I end and he begins. My palms slap against the wall, his erection digging into my backside. I lost the battle before it even began.
Thrusting slowly, he lets his cock glide between my slick folds. “Would you promise me forever if I was to let you come?”
That’s not fair, I want to cry, because I’ll promise you anything.
The words die on my lips, because his cock threatens to enter me, and suddenly I need him inside me so desperately I ache.
“Promise me,” he dem
ands, his fingers ruining me. “Promise me, Vi. Give me everything. Every inch of you.”
The coil tightens within me.
“Forever,” I cry.
It hits me with all the force of a lightning bolt. I shudder and gasp, every inch of me clenching around his penetrating touch. He doesn’t let up his excruciating onslaught. Instead, he replaces his fingers with his cock, just the tip of his shaft entering me.
My nails dig into his hand. “More!”
There is no mercy.
Only him.
My knees hit the floor, and then he shoves me onto my forearms, tearing my trousers down my legs until they’re knotted around one ankle. My drawers are gone. Torn from me with a single snarl.
I arch my back for him, fingertips curling into the stone as I brace for his thrust. The world comes alight for me, light emanating from underneath my nails.
Yes.
It’s a tremble of power, a whisper stealing through my veins. My gaze suddenly focuses. Dust and gravel shivers across the slate floors. One by one, the brass runes carved into the floor begin to glow—
And I sense an awareness turning toward me from far, far away.
Thiago rocks against me, his fingers leaving little bruises in my hips as he prepares to—
“Stop.” I gasp as I realize what’s happening. What we’re doing.
There’s no sheath. It’s a terrible time. And I can feel that bitch focusing her attention on us.
“Stop!” I scramble away from Thiago, hauling my trousers back up my legs.
The ley line falls into stillness.
The runes fade.
But I can’t hide my shuddering breath. That was so close. We nearly forgot, and I could almost sense the Mother of Night smiling.
Pleasure evaporates.
“Fuck.” Thiago scrapes a trembling hand over his mouth. “Fuck.”
“Not here.” I manage to catch his arm. “And not…. You can’t come inside me. Not today.”
The truth of everything my bargain might cost us flashes through his eyes. “You felt her?”
I don’t know what I felt. Maybe that was me? Or whatever part of me calls to the ley lines? Just…. “We have to be careful.”
We can’t risk a child.
I will not let some poor innocent suffer for my actions.
Thiago rests on his knuckles on the floor, his cock at half-mast as he considers me. “Not inside you.”
It’s as if a decision has been made.
Stuffing himself back inside his trousers, he gathers me up into his arms and strides for the door. “Fine. I can work with that. Now, let’s finish this discussion in our rooms.”
“What did you think?”
Thiago rolls onto his side in bed, his head propped on his palm. Muscle bulges in his shoulder, but though my eyes linger, I need at least an hour’s recovery. He carried me up here and spent hours wrecking me with his mouth and hands, and has been thoroughly focused upon ‘earning his apology’ as he puts it.
He won it long ago, though I didn’t have the heart to tell him that.
Or maybe I did and I was just being selfish, because I swear Thiago was put on this world by Maia herself to please females. In every way.
“About?”
“Clydain.”
“You don’t want to talk about what I said upstairs—”
“No. I do not. I need to think about what to do,” he growls out, “and unless we’re in a fully warded, impenetrable room, we’re not even going to think about your revelation.”
Not where others can pluck the words or even our thoughts from the air. That’s sobering.
Fine.
I trace my fingers over his biceps. These are my favorite moments. He likes to talk after sex. It’s almost as though he wears his ‘Prince of Evernight’ mantle outside our bedchamber doors, but the second we’re through them, he lets down his guard.
I’ve never been a part of something like this. I was always kept on the edges of my mother’s court, watching, listening, bursting with ideas that could help our kingdom, but to speak up would only ever earn a chastening look and an arched eyebrow.
“Do you think yourself queen, Iskvien?” Mother would mock. “Do you yearn to rule?”
And her courtiers would laugh, even as I buried my hopes and dreams.
But Thiago wants it all.
“You know your sister best,” he says.
“Andraste was surprised when you mentioned Clydain,” I reply, “though I’ll concede that so was I. Considering I wasn’t aware you were going to present such an offer.”
His mouth twists. “I wasn’t. It was a spur-of-the-moment thought when she brought up Eidyn. I wasn’t expecting the trade and I wanted to see what she’d do if I suggested Clydain.”
“Why did you send Lysander toward Clydain in the first place?”
“One of your mother’s border lords retains his allegiance with me, and sent word years ago that he’d seen Adaia riding from the Vervain Hallow to Clydain during the full moon.”
“It can’t have been her. My mother worships Selena and the full moon every month. She plies the court with wine and mead, and takes Edain to her chambers for several nights.”
Asturia is known for the bounty of its harvests and forests, and my mother is bound to the land as queen. Fertility rites are as important to my people as breathing, and if the queen is blessed by the goddess, then so the lands shall be.
“The things I do not need to know. I almost pity that poor bastard,” Thiago replies with a grimace. “But my spy swears he’s seen her riding through the forests there several times over the years. I think your mother locks her pretty little whore away in her chambers with food and wine, while she slips away in the middle of the night.”
That’s interesting. She never misses a full moon. But if she’s not truly within her chambers…. My gut starts churning. It would be the perfect means for Mother to do whatever she wanted, without a thousand watchful eyes upon her.
What is she up to?
I sit up. “But why?”
“I don’t know why. My informant can’t get close to Clydain. There’s a mist there that encircles the place and whenever he enters it, he wakes up miles away from where he entered with no recollection of what happened within the mist.”
Rumors of the place being haunted. A magical mist that wipes away memories.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “She is hiding something.”
“Wagons go into the mist according to my spy. He’s seen enormous piles of metal in the back of them. And caught a glimpse of strange lights flashing in the skies over the keep, from a distance. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but his reports kept coming and any secret conspiracy your mother is involved in needs to be investigated. And so I sent Lysander. It was the last time we saw him until today. He vanished, and the first we heard of him was when you said you’d seen him curse-twisted into bane form.”
“Lysander got through the mist.” The only one in Asturia with the power to lay such a powerful curse is my mother. “And she cursed him so he wouldn’t be able to report. But how did he escape her? Why would she not simply lock him away?”
Or kill him.
No, that one’s easy to guess. If she killed him, then she could no longer use him as a weapon against us.
If she killed him, it only hurts once.
“Bane’s are unpredictable and Lysander is… was one of my best.” There’s a roughness to his voice that tells me he feels his friend’s loss too.
I catch his fingers and squeeze them. “We’ll get him back.”
“Vi.” Dark lashes flutter over his eyes, but he squeezes my hand. “You saw what he was like today. Lysander loved you. I would never have thought anyone could turn him against you, and yet he was going to kill you.”
I press a finger to his lips. “We’ll get him back. We are not going to let her win this game.”
A sense of implacability sweeps over his face. “I won’t put you at risk. He could kil
l you.”
“Then he can stay locked away until we work out how we’re going to break his curse.” Rolling toward him, I press a gentle kiss to his lips. “If I can break one curse—”
Thiago captures my face between his hands, holding me there. “You are not going to ask the Mother of Night to return him to his fae form.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to me.
I nip at his thumb. “I was desperate to save your life. This is different. We have time. We have opportunities. Surely someone knows how to break a bane’s curse. Unless you just happen to have his true love locked away in a tower somewhere, ready to bestow her kiss upon his lips? That might work.”
Thiago breathes out a laugh. “I forget how much you’ve forgotten.”
“Why?”
“Lysander has no true love. And certainly not one wearing skirts.”
“Ah.” Something tickles my memories just then. It’s just a flash of a sinfully devastating face swimming into view, a wicked smile sent from a man who looks disarmingly like Baylor—if Baylor ever met a smile he didn’t drag into a back alley and stab.
Singing in the background. Something ribald about a sailor named Thom, who had the prettiest lips a sailor ever did have.
And then it’s gone.
“Memory?” Thiago murmurs.
It vanishes like the ghostly flutter of butterfly wings against my skin.
“I think so.” I can never predict them. But I do know one thing. “Lysander gets along well with Finn, doesn’t he?”
There’d been too much mischief in his smile.
“Terribly well. I try to keep them apart as much as possible.”
I sigh as I push away from him. “We’ll get him back.”
“And then we’ll discover what your mother is hiding at Clydain.”
I find Baylor sitting outside Lysander’s cell, his knuckles clasped together and his head bowed. My feet are silent on the stairs—an old habit—but he looks up as I approach, his golden eyes flaring amber for a second before they return to normal.
“Princess.” He shifts to stand, but I wave at him to stay where he is.
“Are you all right?” I murmur, slipping onto the stone bench beside him.
