The vast collection of weaponry and armoury lining the high walls captured her attention. There were swords and daggers, spears and pikes. Too many to count, and a great many of them looked like they had seen combat, blade edges dented and chipped. Others were decorative, almost ceremonial in appearance. They were hung neatly from the dark walls, arranged in an order that Nessa couldn’t quite decipher, each implement displayed with precision and care.
Nessa thought that Hunter would have loved to see this display, maybe Orm too. Both of them had a weakness when it came to stabby things, much like she did with plush fabrics and gorgeous gowns.
She admired the weapons from afar, then turned her attention to the suits of armour. Nessa had never seen one up close and in person before. At least, not that she could remember. Mannequins held them upright, like soldiers ready for action. They were placed at intervals around the room, dividing the weaponry into blocks. Nessa had imagined that a suit of armour would be heavy and cumbersome, ugly and sinister. These though, were elegant, each one unique, beautiful in a strange way.
Nessa slowly turned on her heel, her eyes jumping from one suit of armour to the next. They all looked old to her, although well looked after. The many different designs, the styles, felt dated by at least decades, if not centuries.
Nessa paused.
The ring of weapons and armour gave way to a large four-poster bed.
A bed that was occupied.
Nessa’s eyes went wide.
“Impossible… It can’t be him,” she whispered as she was compelled forwards by a force unseen, a pull that tugged her closer to the bed.
Shadow was asleep, eyes closed, face relaxed. Half of his black hair was drawn back into a messy bun, the rest falling around his shoulders in raven waves, looking soft and touchable in the flickering firelight. He was reclined casually atop his velvet bedding, his back nestled against a collection of decorative pillows, wearing only a pair of dark trous.
Nessa knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. She drank in the sight of his bare chest, his chiselled abs, his strong arms. She had seen Hunter and Orm shirtless a few times, but they were nothing compared to Shadow. He’d had centuries to hone his physique to perfection.
Her mouth had gone dry; Nessa swallowed nervously and dragged her gaze away from his body, up to his face.
Shadow looked so different asleep. He was almost another person entirely. The tension was washed from his features, transforming him, leaving him looking younger, calmer. Kinder. His handsome face was relaxed, his lips parted ever so slightly, a breath away from the faintest of smiles. His brow was smooth, uncreased by strain and thought. It was strange seeing him this way. Shadow wasn’t someone who Nessa would ever envisage as vulnerable, but for some reason, that’s how Nessa saw him in that moment. Vulnerable. Sweet, even. More so when Nessa spied the open book that had slipped down by his side. He had fallen asleep reading, Nessa realised with a start. How very normal. How very mundane. How very unexpected. Not at all what Nessa had imagined a villainous Dragon Rider would make of an evening. Casting spells and playing with concubines, perhaps. But reading a book…? That just seemed so very human. So very innocent.
Maybe there was more to him than just dark misdeeds and haunted eyes.
Maybe there were hidden depths to him that no one else saw, a side that gave Nessa a peculiar glimmer of hope. What if he could change? What if he could be saved?
Nessa’s eyebrows pulled together as she frowned. Why would he want to be saved, or need to be? He was a Dragon Rider, one of the Twelve Kingdoms’ strongest. What could he need saving from? Why would she want to save him? It made no sense. None whatsoever. And yet, she couldn’t shake the idea. It was there to stay, a hushed urging at the back of her mind, quiet and unnerving.
This is just a dream, Nessa tried to tell herself. And in dreams, nothing is quite right. You dream strange things and think strange things…
A dream.
There was no other explanation. A very realistic dream, granted. But a dream nevertheless. How else would Nessa find herself in the castle, in Shadow’s personal chamber? And what else could explain how she herself had changed in the moment. She was different.
When she had reached for the book, curious to see what a man such as Shadow might be reading, Nessa had paused with her hand stretched out in front of her, marvelling at its appearance, realising that she could see right through it. Nessa was a ghost, a phantom, reduced to little more than a pale shape of a girl. It was unsettling, and yet, at the same time, something about it felt right. Natural. She turned her hand this way and that, growing faintly amused at the sight of her being there, but only just.
Peering through the ghostly form of her hand, Nessa saw that Shadow’s own hand, half-hidden by the book at his side, bore a strange blemish. Only the top portion of it was visible, and her eyes ran over the curling line that wrapped around his wrist and forearm.
His Rider’s Mark, Nessa thought. But it wasn’t like hers. It was different. The edges were stretched and blurred, the shape twisted and warped, making it look more like a burn scar than a shimmering tattoo. It wasn’t what a Rider’s Mark was meant to look like. Nessa knew that. Something had happened. Something terrible had caused it to change, to become deformed.
“What happened to you?” she whispered softly, reverently. She reached out, her fingers seeking his.
Shadow’s hand twitched.
Shadow’s hand clamped around Nessa’s wrist.
She gasped as a wave of energy surged through her, electrifying and almost knee buckling. The pale translucence that formed her body rippled and quivered, and all at once, colour bloomed and she became as she was meant to be: solid and real, with her skin flushed pink and her heart racing. Nessa’s eyes darted up and were instantly ensnared in Shadow’s dark gaze.
Though clouded with sleep, Shadow’s eyes, their deep depths and their sheer intensity, were not diluted. Nessa’s breath left her in a rush. Reality collided with her dream. Shadow’s hand, so strong and warm, slipped from her wrist and wrapped around her own, his fingers gently twining with hers.
“It’s you,” Shadow murmured, voice deep and groggy. “You’re here.” He sighed, eyes sliding shut once again. “But this is just a dream. The gods are both kind and cruel this night.”
Nessa’s lips parted. He thought she was the dream? Why would he dream of her? She tried to tug her hand free, but whilst Shadow’s grip wasn’t tight, it was firm. A dream or not, he was loath to part with her.
“A dream?” Nessa scoffed. “A nightmare, more like it.” A really strange one. A shared one?
Maybe not one at all…
Shadow’s eyes flew opened and he released her hand as if she had burned him. All visage of sleep vanished as he pushed himself upright, the warmth and comfort of his pillows forgotten.
Freed of his grip, Nessa hurriedly backed away, almost tripping on the hem of her nightgown in her haste. Any hint of vulnerability in Shadow’s face was gone as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His expression was hard, stony, as his eyes ran over her, taking in her wild gaze, her loose hair and her attire.
“Is this a trick?” Shadow mused, his voice dropping down into the familiar deep rasp that conjured a mixture of emotions inside Nessa, emotions that were too rich and complex for her to unravel, to pinpoint. “A test of sorts?”
Nessa swept her long hair over her shoulders, using it like a shroud to cover her front, and wrapped her arms around herself. Although her nightgown was long, reaching down to her ankles, and modest, she felt too exposed, too bare. “A test?”
Shadow’s gaze turned from her, scanning the room as if he expected to find someone else there, lurking in the soft gloom. “Is this another of my brother’s games? But then, if it were him, how could he know about you? I’ve kept you from him. I’ve kept you safe.”
Nessa scowled, “Safe?” Oh yes, he has kept me so very safe, she thought bitterly. Taking my memories away. Burying my pow
ers. I’ve been as safe as can be, not knowing who I am and who I can trust. It’s all been very, very safe…
Shadow’s eyes went back to her, confusion clear in their sapphire depths. “Or has Margan joined in with these games?”
“Perhaps you’ve just lost your mind,” Nessa suggested, beginning to search for an escape route. It was dawning on her that, despite all logic, this wasn't a dream. She had somehow managed to transport herself into Shadow’s private chamber. The idea boded ill. It shouldn’t be possible.
But it was.
As soon as Shadow’s hand had wrapped around her wrist, a rush of clarity had washed through her. She was there. In the castle. With him. As much as she wished, hoped, that it was a figment of her imagination, she knew that it wasn't.
The flagstones beneath her feet were cool…the fire’s heat drifted through the air in lulling waves…and Shadow…Shadow drew her in, ensnaring her with his bewitching eyes. His eyes… Those eyes… They pulled her in and…and…
It was real.
It was all real.
It wasn’t a dream or a nightmare.
It was something else.
But how? How?
“Perhaps I have lost my mind,” Shadow murmured. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I am long overdue for a break from sanity. But that’s not the reason for this…”
“Is it not?” No, she supposed it wasn’t, not unless they shared in a delusion. Nessa tightened her arms around herself, growing ever more conscious of the fact that she was in nothing but a thin nightgown and that he stared at her with a type of heat in his eyes that made her knees weak and her heart skip beats. Her gaze darted around the room, moving from the wide archway to the other entrances that were sealed shut by wooden doors. Nessa couldn’t tell if they were locked or not, nor where they led.
“No.” Shadow stood, his eyes deep and bright as the haze of sleep left them, and slowly stalked forwards. Nessa inched away, taking a step or two back before being ensnared by his gaze, spellbound as it locked with hers, holding her in place. “This is something else. This is something new.”
“It’s nothing but a dream,” Nessa whispered, hoping that he would believe it even though she didn’t.
His lips quirked into a small smile. “Do you often dream of me? You must in order for you to be so accepting of this occurrence.”
“Of course not,” she rushed to say.
Shadow looked knowingly. “Liar.”
“This isn’t real.”
“Is it not?”
“Of course it isn’t,” Nessa insisted, flustered, her cheeks hot and pink. “It can’t be… Unless… Unless you brought me here somehow…?” That makes sense. Magic. He must have used a spell or something to bring me here.
“Me?” Shadow smirked, coming to a stand frightfully close to her. Only a foot or so separated them.
Nessa was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. Her brows pulled together, and she murmured a soft confirmational “You”.
“No,” he said gently, his eyes running over her face as if she were a complex painting and he was trying to learn all its details, all its secrets.
“No?”
“This is all you.”
“It isn’t.” It can’t be.
“It isn’t me, my little wildcat,” he whispered, the depths of his eyes becoming as unfathomable as the deepest of oceans. “But then again. It shouldn’t be you either.”
“How could this be my doing?” Nessa hissed. “One minute, I’m in my bed, fast asleep, having all these weird dreams, and then…and then I’m here…with you… This doesn’t have anything to do with me. This is your fault. It has to be.” It has to be, Nessa finished silently. Magic’s involved, and since my spell failed, that means that my magic is still…
The space between them, minute as it was, vanished as he corralled her back, boxing her in against the wall, his arms coming up on either side of her, his palms pressed against the gold-threaded stone. They were to the side of the fireplace, in a spot where the light didn’t quite reach them fully, tucked between two suits of armour that stood like sentries on watch.
It felt secret.
It felt safe.
With the light only just brushing against them, soft and weak, Nessa felt as if she had been transported to another place and time, one where she could almost forget what the man before her was.
Who he was.
Almost.
Shadow was without his torc, and his Rider’s Mark was out of sight, concealed by the curtain of her loose hair and the muted light. That made the illusion easier to hold onto. The only thing that broke it, though, were his eyes. Dark and deep, and unnaturally intense, they were filled with centuries of secrets and knowledge, pain and compassion, and quite a few other things besides. Things that made Nessa’s stomach clench when she started to decipher them.
Shadow leaned down, bringing his face close to hers.
Nessa could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of her nightgown, could feel the beat of his pounding heart, matching hers with near-perfect harmony.
“What if I were to tell you,” he whispered, “that this is your doing? That I’ve played no part in it?”
Nessa battled against the lure of his voice, the low, hypnotising tone, at the intimacy there. It took all her strength not to allow her eyelids to flutter closed as his caressing words washed over her, soft and warm.
“I’d call you a liar.”
“I’m many things,” Shadow murmured. “But a liar is not one of them. Not when it comes to you. I’d never lie to you.”
“Then how did this happen?” Nessa breathed. “Why am I here?”
“Why are you here? You shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be possible. I made sure of that.”
“With the mental block?”
“Just so, my little wildcat. Just so.”
“But then…” Nessa’s words, her thoughts, faded to nothing as Shadow shifted. The fragile barrier of heated air between them vanished.
One of Shadow’s hands left the wall, sliding down to gently cup Nessa’s face as he rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled as their bodies pressed into each other’s, moulding together in the sweetest of ways. Her arms loosened their steely hug around her waist and reached outwards, her fingers lightly skimming over Shadow’s side as she made to hold him closer, his flesh hot beneath her touch; his muscles flexing, quivering. A shiver ran down his spine, and with a shuddering sigh, his chin dipped and his nose brushed against hers.
Nothing was between them, not even a whisper of air, nothing but Nessa’s nightgown and Shadow’s trous, which rode down low on his hips. Nessa knew that because her fingers grazed their loose waistband, toying with it, wanting it to go lower, wanting them to drop to the ground, alongside her dress… Nessa longed for there to be nothing between them but the invisible cord that was binding them ever closer together, body and soul.
“You are toying with fire, my little wildcat,” Shadow growled, eyes blazing, heated and bright. He was fire, fierce and dangerous.
And she wanted to get burned.
Nessa hooked a finger into the waistband, feeling wanton and reckless. She was a different person when he touched her. Gone was the frightened, uncertain girl, plagued by doubt and insecurity. “Is that so?”
“Even though I have done all that I can to bury it, our connection is already too strong. How else can you be here? My soul calls to yours.”
“Your soul?” Nessa could barely think. Barely breathe. “Our connection?”
“Even now, with the block in place, your magic still seeps out, reaching for me. Just as my magic reaches for you. I’d hoped that the block would give us more time, but it seems that fate has other ideas.” He laughed grimly, little more than a huff of breath. “Who would have thought that you, my little wildcat, would be such a powerful Sāwolwalkere. But here you are, in full materialisation no less. We might have a chance after all.”
“Sāwolwalkere?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
His eyelids were heavy, hooded, his gaze far away. As if in a trance, his chin dipped further, and his lips grazed hers.
It was the lightest of kisses. The softest of touches.
It was hesitant, filled with uncertainty and tenderness, with sadness and longing.
Nessa savoured the slow build of heat that trickled through her veins, pooling in her stomach. It made her heart flutter, her skin tingle. She rose onto her toes, pressing her lips harder against his, earnest and hungry for more. A sound came from his chest, something between a growl and a groan. It was raw and tortured. It made Nessa’s toes curl in delight.
The hesitancy left, fleeing alongside any uncertainty and tenderness, replaced by passion and a wild desire. Nessa was swept away in a wave of intensity, by Shadow’s fervour. An arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her to him, lifting her. Nessa was helpless not to twine hers around his neck, burying her fingers into his long hair.
Shadow groaned again, pressing into her, crushing her spine against the wall, his lips working at hers with ardour, with expert skill that made her melt. A thumb caressed her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, and then slid down the side of her neck, his fingers trailing over her flushed flesh, catching on the heavy chain before reaching the neckline of her nightgown. His clever fingers toyed with it, tugging at it. The fabric was pushed down just a couple of tantalising inches, and one shoulder was exposed. Nessa shivered as cool air brushed against her heated skin.
Shadow’s lips left Nessa’s, and she could feel his smile as he trailed a line of lingering kisses from the corner of her lips, over the fine curve of her cheekbone, to the spot just beneath her ear and beside her jaw. His lips paused there as he whispered something, and then ever so slowly, savouring it all, his lips worked their way down the column of her neck, following behind the hand that crept down over her collarbone, down and…down…
House of Blood and Bone Page 47
