by Alex Lidell
“Is this the bull?” a voice echoes in the darkness of a stone dungeon. “The one you can’t seem to tame?” I know that voice. Just as I know that after today, it will never speak again.
My face is in the sand. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t scream. Malikai’s weight holds me in place, squeezing away what little air I manage to gulp around mouthfuls of sand. Fear, cold and hard, rushes through me, spurring my heart into a blinding gallop. Above me, Malikai shifts again and something hard, like his knee or shin, presses painfully into my ribs. The bones shift and bend and howl beneath the growing pressure.
My mind goes blank, everything I’ve learned disappearing into a fog of pure panic and instinct. I pull against my hands, buck, scream—
The stone is cold and hard beneath my knees, my binds trapping me to the wall as the qoru approaches, its gray skin matte in the gloom. The folds that pass for its nose compress together as it snorts and opens a maw of sharp teeth to speak. “It doesn’t look all that strong to me.”
“Be careful.” The second qoru comes closer, his stench filling my nose.
“Which of them do you think will scream the loudest when your ribs snap into your heart?” Malikai muses, leaning down to whisper into my ear. “My money would usually be on the mate, but he’ll likely cower into his wolf and stay there for another century or two. River . . . No, that one likes to put on airs. I truly hope it’s the Mors whore who—”
My elbow moves, breaking the bonds holding me in place to plunge into the horrid fold of flesh passing for the qoru’s nose. Power flows through my body, pulsing with my heart, filling my muscles with blood and strength.
The qoru screams.
Malikai screams as my elbow smashes into his face. There’s a cracking sound and warm liquid soaks the arm of my tunic. The weight on my back lightens, but I’m already pulling my other hand from Malikai’s grasp. Power surges inside me, filling my muscles with heat.
Filling me with hot, blinding rage.
Blood. Enemy blood. The smell of it makes my heart pound with excitement. My nostrils flare, scenting my adversary’s sudden weakness. His close, sweet death. The blood coursing through my veins simmers, each organ it touches lighting with new strength. My lungs fill with all the air in the world, my eyes seeing so clearly that I can count the sand grains beneath my face.
I throw Malikai off me easily, his heavy body sending a cloud of sand into the air as it lands. Blood still flowing from his broken nose seeps into the sand.
“What are you?” Malikai screams, his pale, mismatched eyes wide, his hands in the air to ward off my approach. The vein on the side of his neck pulses, beads of sweat trailing from the raven widow’s peak in the middle of his forehead. He is afraid. Terrified. I can smell it.
And I love it.
Dropping to one knee, I sink my fist into Malikai’s stomach, the muscled flesh hard beneath my knuckles.
“I surrender!” Malikai hollers to the arena.
But the arena doesn’t care.
“My quint,” Malikai calls to me, slithering away. His words are muffled, his breath coming in gasps. “Please. You know what a death does to a quint.” His hands drop, his head rising to expose his bare neck to me. “I surrender,” he whispers. “I won’t fight.”
My fist tightens, my pulse a pounding drum, the lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub echoing through my head. Waves of pain and humiliation wash over me again and again as I cock my fist to put an end to this qoru’s existence. It’s not worth calling it life.
Power flares in my blood.
Stop. The command comes from everywhere inside me, in a voice that is mine and not mine. You are Lera.
I pull my strike as it flies, neatly knocking Malikai unconscious.
27
Lera
“I do like that dress,” Tye says, leaning in the open door of my bedchamber—which I’m sure I closed and locked before starting to change. His sharp face is split into a wide, glinting smile, his white tunic unbuttoned to the deep carve of his sternum.
I grip the sides of the gown before it can fall to my ankles. “How did you get in here?”
Tye blinks, his brilliant green eyes wide with innocence. “The same way I’ve gotten into most places for a few centuries. Good thing, too—you look in need of some assistance, lass.”
I scowl down at the fabric, which, in addition to being a gorgeous sapphire-blue satin, is also voluminous and unwieldy enough to make me consider going to the dining hall in my undershorts. Not that I want to go to a celebratory dinner of any kind just now, but that’s my problem, not Tye’s. Or the dress’s. I sigh. The bodice is an open-backed thing that is supposed to lace up around my ribs. It’s the same one I wore to meet with the Elders Council, and somehow, I still cannot figure out how to put it on. It was hard enough then; now, with my shaking and depleted muscles, it’s impossible. I’m certain the tailor cackled himself silly after making it. “If you can work out how to attach this thing to me, I won’t ask after the lock,” I concede to Tye, turning my back to him.
The door clicks closed and the male’s measured footsteps approach me from behind. His thick arms wrap around my waist as his scent of pine and citrus fills my lungs. The heat from Tye’s body seeps into me, sending shivers across my skin. And doing nothing for the bloody dress.
“You were going to help with the bodice,” I say over my shoulder.
“No, I wasn’t,” Tye says into my ear, his warm breath its own caress that makes me want to melt into his body and pull away at the same time.
I fight against the latter, keeping my chin raised high, like the other males did in the aftermath of the trial only hours ago. We won. Passed the Individual Trial. Secured the victory. I, through beating Malikai; the others by virtue of Malikai’s entire quint yielding before the other four fights could even begin, too afraid of the malfunctioning surrender ward to step into the arena with my males.
It doesn’t matter what my victory cost. That I came within a breath of killing. That Coal’s eyes were blank by the time I made it to him, the shadows underneath so deep he looked bruised. That Shade’s wolf had only just stopped whimpering and regained enough consciousness to shift back into fae form. My chest squeezes painfully at the memory of his sweat-drenched body curled up on the stone, flinching away from me when I tried to comfort him—which was an improvement on him being unable to move at all.
What matters is that there is now one less rune on everyone’s neck, and we are having dinner with Autumn and Kora’s quint in the dining hall to celebrate.
I force the expected normalcy into my voice. “You are the one who came to offer help, if I recall.”
“Aye. But I wasn’t talking about the dress.” Tye’s arms tighten, his large body folding protectively around me. The hard muscles of his thighs and abdomen press into my flesh. “Stop pretending, Lilac Girl,” Tye purrs. “See, lying is a skill. An art. Of which I consider myself a seasoned master. You . . . Well, you don’t even reach novice rank on that particular front.”
“I’m not sure—”
“The trial.” Tye turns me toward him, the dress abandoned to fall into a pool of blue on the floor. His thumbs trace the length of my cheekbones, his stunning face so close to mine, I can see that smattering of freckles on one cheek, feel his skin’s heat. “Talk to me, lass.”
I swallow, an involuntary chill running down my spine. “We are a warrior quint destined to fight the terrors of Mors,” I say in a voice too even to be mine. “Today’s fight ended in victory. End of discussion and time to eat.”
“Now, that sounds very much like Coal,” Tye says.
I sigh, my shoulders falling. “It sounds like Coal because it is from Coal. I tried to ask him about—”
“Well, that was your first mistake,” Tye interrupts, his face lowering toward mine. “You were talking to the wrong male. It truly is better never to talk to Coal. Especially not when you could be doing this instead.” Tye’s hands tighten on either side of my face, tipping it
up as his warm, velvety lips brush over mine with unexpected gentleness.
My heart speeds in spite of itself, my body aching for more, even while my mind still grips the stoicism I thought I was doing a good job of portraying. The safety of Tye’s broad shoulders and corded arms wraps around me, his heat and scent drowning out the world with no effort at all. For once, after hours of holding myself in check, I want to give in, let go. Tye, with his quick hands and quicker smile, is the easiest male to sink into and forget that anything else exists. My hands reach for him without my permission, my palms resting on the hard edges of his pectorals. Tye’s heartbeat, vibrating through layers of trained, hardened muscle, is a soft lub, lub, lub against my touch.
Tye’s hands slip from my face down to my hips, the calloused skin scraping wonderfully along my body. Gripping my waist, he lifts me easily into the air and sets me atop my high bed. “You know,” he says, kneeling on the mattress and straddling my thighs as my hands stretch back to brace myself, “many consider combat to be a strong aphrodisiac.”
My pulse pounds. “I’m not one of them,” I say, even as my nipples peak and moisture pools between my legs, my body’s own arousal betraying me. My raspy voice makes me cringe. Stars. It’s wrong how badly my body wants Tye’s lips, Tye’s body, the pleasures that the male knows so well how to offer. All the things that I deserve none of. “Stop,” I whisper, wanting him to do anything but.
Tye raises a brow, two fingers touching the underside of my chin. His nostrils flare delicately, tasting my scent. “Tell me why.”
I can’t.
He tips his head, his red hair swinging. “Do you deserve punishment instead of a reward?” His mouth pulls into a feral grin, his canines glistening in the setting sun. “I think something can be arranged.”
“That’s not what I said, Tye.” I gasp as the male takes hold of my hips and moves me further onto the four-poster bed, all while turning my chest wrap and undershorts into little more than shredded and discarded rags. Cool air tickles my exposed skin. I press my legs together, only to discover Tye’s knee perfectly blocking my way.
I reach between his legs, suddenly desperate to wrap my fingers around him, to make him feel what I’m feeling. He grips my wrist, something flickering in his eyes. I move my other hand and he stops it just as quickly, holding my wrists at my sides.
I frown. “Tye—”
“Uh-uh, lass. Not today.” His voice is a rod of steel covered in thick velvet, his eyes unreadable. Leaning low, his lips trace a line from my navel to my sternum to my neck. “Punishment,” he whispers, his hands brushing along my arms, extending them over my head. “You don’t get to move.”
Moisture slicks my thighs and slithers down to the coverlet beneath.
Tye’s nostrils puff and he smiles approvingly, making my skin heat. Snatching the remains of my chest wrap, he wraps the cloth deftly around my wrists, attaching the end to a bedpost and making my eyes widen.
“You aren’t Coal, lass,” he whispers into my ear. “You are Lera. And you are entitled to your own sensations. Your own memories.” His eyes on me, warm moss in the golden light, he shifts his mouth to cover my nipple, biting it just hard enough to send a glorious sting through my breast. I gasp softly and he moves to the other nipple. “Stay still,” he says. Watching my face, he bites again, harder this time.
My body tightens inexplicably, the spark of pain nothing compared to the sudden gripping need that takes my sex. I moan softly before I can help it.
“Good lass.” Tye’s tongue replaces his teeth, leisurely circling around the sore spot before lapping at it gently, sending a streak of fire through my core. He sits up on his knees, his wide palms brushing my naked flesh in long, luxurious strokes that move closer and closer to my core with each pass. He slows as he reaches my inner thighs, nodding approvingly at the wetness as he presses my thighs further apart still, exposing my increasingly throbbing sex to his mercy.
“Now that I have your full attention,” Tye says softly, stroking his thumb once through my slit and casually flicking his nail against the bud in a way that makes my buttocks quiver, “let us discuss the virtues of pretending to feel nothing because someone tells you to.”
I open my mouth to reply, but Tye’s fingers trace a predatory circle around my opening and I whimper instead, pulling against the cloth.
“Get ready to not feel, Lilac Girl.”
I close my eyes as his head descends between my legs, his breath ruffling my coiled auburn locks, the thin stream of air turning hot enough to awaken each of my nerves. Having thoroughly ruffled the hair, the stream creeps closer to my slit, the promise of heat on moist, tender flesh making my heart pound. “You . . . are using . . . magic,” I manage to say. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m a thief,” Tye says, his all-but-steaming breath prickling the inside of my sex, stoking my desire. “I don’t do fair.”
No. Clearly not.
The next touch of Tye’s magic has me writhing, the flame inside my sex spreading through my body in growing desperation. I bite my lips, my hands curling around the coverlet. Just as I think my mastery over myself is assured, however, Tye’s tongue begins to lap at me, a tiger playing with his meal. I arch toward him, my apex begging for attention.
Tye grips my thighs, my bucking, squirming hips no match for his strong arms. A sharp, delicious prickle of pain spreads from just inside my sex, sending my fingernails into my palms. “What was that?”
His head rises, his tongue sliding over his canines. “I warned you not to move,” he says, the wicked twinkle in his eyes as bright as the sun. “Now, quiet. I’m busy.”
The lapping returns, interrupted by occasional long strokes of his tongue and gentle scrapes of his teeth that make me buck like a wild horse. When I return to soft whimpering after another of those maneuvers, I realize a low rumbling sound has filled the air, coming not from Tye’s mouth but—
“Are you purring?” I ask.
Tye flushes, spreading my sex with renewed vigor as he finally stokes my apex. My question is forgotten as a shudder rakes my body.
I feel as though I’m on a cliff’s edge, one hairbreadth away from falling into an oblivion of agony and bliss.
“How is that not feeling treating you, lass?” Tye says, having mercy a moment later by plunging his finger into my opening and freeing my release with the force of an arrow.
I fall over the cliff, the binds on my arms burning to ash beneath Tye’s magic, my body screaming with exhausted pleasure. When I collapse, I’m in Tye’s arms, which have somehow moved to cradle me in his lap.
When I can breathe again, I snake my hands under his shirt, my fingertips tracing his muscles and heading lower. Tye’s breath catches, the hardness beneath me a newly living, throbbing thing. I wriggle, turning in his lap to face him as my hands brush that bulge, seeking the laces holding his breeches in place. I lick my lips, knowing Tye’s eyes follow the tip of my tongue. “I want to taste you,” I whisper. “I want to know whether you taste better than chocolate.”
The flash of hurt in Tye’s eyes is so quick that I’m uncertain I truly saw it before he grins, waggling his brows. “Oh, I’m much, much better than chocolate.”
I wrap the tail of his fly’s lace around my finger, but Tye’s hand closes over mine before I can let him loose.
“I’m so much better than chocolate that dinner will taste bland,” he drawls. “I can’t do that to you. It would just be cruel.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Tye gathers me to him again, his calloused hand rubbing circles on my back as he buries his face in my hair, breathing deeply and throbbing beneath me.
Tye. Tye. The male I’d considered the most easygoing of the quint may be the most challenging puzzle yet.
28
Lera
“A toast,” Kora says, lifting her wine goblet into the air and grinning at our two quints and Autumn, all sitting around the dinner table. Well, mostly sitting, given that Shade, Coal, and I can barely
keep ourselves upright. Even now, the wolf shifter’s yellow eyes are dull and filled with pain. Kora swallows, her voice faltering for a moment before regaining its hard-won cheerfulness. “To the only quint in Citadel history to pass a second trial before the first.”
“That isn’t technically correct,” Autumn says. “Fifty years ago—”
“Quiet, Sparkle.” Tye lifts his glass, the dark red wine in it releasing aromas of black currant and vanilla. “Details of history are no reason to let a drinking opportunity pass us by.”
I take a small sip. The wine’s full flavor and velvety texture spread over my tongue. Stars, but it’s good, especially beside the thick slices of roast lamb and aged cheese that weigh down the table and make my stomach dance.
As if smelling my thoughts, River pulls my chair closer to his with one arm and pushes my plate closer to me, adding a sauce to the garlic-baked lamb in the center. “Eat,” he says. “You need to eat more.”
I wince. “I’m not too sure of that.”
“Well, I need you to eat more.” River’s eyes roam my skin. “Would you like more carrots? They’re good for you. The cheese too, if—”
“You will make an excellent grandmother one day,” I tell the prince of Slait, taking a bite of aged cheese just to make him stop fussing. The moment the slice leaves my plate, a new one appears. Together with a helping of grapes. I roll my eyes at River, using the motion as an excuse to glance over at Coal, who has barely looked at me since the trial.
He suddenly finds his food endlessly fascinating.
Right. I clear my throat. “Has anyone seen Malikai?”
“Not since the council ordered his quint to the tower,” Kora says. “Apparently, they were none too pleased that four of the five quint warriors yielded before the combat started. They’re bastards, yes, but I little envy them just now.” She winces, either in empathy for Malikai or at her newfound imprudence at speaking so plainly of the council.
