by Lily Archer
Digging my nails into his back, I hold on as he pistons into me, my breasts tingling with pleasure as he dominates every bit of me, his hard chest rubbing me just right.
Gripping one breast, he runs his tongue along my nipple, then clamps down, his hips still working me as I gasp for breath and twist his hair in my fingers. I moan as he sucks the bud into his mouth, his tongue massaging the tip as my legs spread even wider. Every moment of contact between us is like a little spark of electricity, millions of them lighting me up from the inside.
He pulls away, his eyes dark, and grips my hips. With a rough yank, he turns me over and pulls me onto my knees. With a hard thrust, he enters me from behind. I cry out as he leans over me, his chest against my folded wings as he fills me with hard strokes.
My toes curl when he licks the back of my neck, then bites, breaking the skin with his fangs. He holds onto me like an animal, keeping me right where he wants me as he gives me everything I want. When he runs a hand beneath me and strokes my clit, I begin to shake, my pleasure winding around inside me like thread on a tight spool.
The sound of his skin hitting mine ricochets around the room, and the bed bangs against the wall to his impossible rhythm. I push back against him, driving him further inside me as his fingers strum my sensitive spot. He bites harder, the pain like gasoline on the fire that already burns between us. My hips seize, and I gasp as my release hits, the pleasure coursing through me, overflowing until I can barely breathe, barely feel anything except the tension unwinding in languid waves of pleasure.
Leander growls against my skin, then shoves hard and deep. His cock kicks inside me, and he spurts his seed with a roar. We pant together, our bodies joined and sharing in each other’s pleasure. As my release fades, my knees spread, and I sink down into the bed, Leander on top of me, still inside me.
He releases the bite, then licks the wound. “We must go.” He pulls out, and I breathe out a hard sigh.
Dressing quickly, he pulls my clothes from the floor and brings them to me.
“Hurry. We shouldn’t have tarried.”
“I enjoyed tarrying.” I roll over and stretch my arms above my head.
His gaze goes to my breasts and then lower, the evidence of our love-making on my thighs. “Taylor,” he growls. “You will drive me mad with lust.” He searches around and finds a small towel. “Here.” After cleaning me up, he hands me my clothes. “We have to get you out of here. It’s not safe.”
“I’m perfectly safe.” I sit up and pull on my shirt. “You’re the one who’s iffy.”
“What?”
I snap my fingers, and dozens of undead guards rush into the room, followed by my father, a cruel grin on his face. “No!” The voice inside me is louder. It’s as if she grows stronger each moment we’re in Leander’s presence.
“It seems the traitor has come back to me.” Shathinor motions for the guards to take Leander. “Foolish usurper. You should have burned my body and scattered the ashes across Arin.”
“I’ll get that taken care of this time around.” Leander blasts the room with ice.
“Not so fast, lover.” I call on my dark heart of death and send an orb of black to swirl around him like a shadowy prison. “Touch that and it’s going to leave a mark.”
“Taylor.” He turns to me, his eyes wide. “What are you—”
“My daughter.” Shathinor motions for me to come to him.
I shimmy my pants on and walk to his side, ever so obediently.
“This is your father?” Leander seems a bit less surprised than I’d expected.
“Did you know?” I ask.
He rolls his shoulders and keeps his gaze on me. Even now, caged by death, he’s formidable and unfairly sexy. “I suspected you might have a necromancer in your lineage after what happened with Delantis and Vanara. But this …” He shakes his head. “I never expected Shathinor, the evil of old.”
“Your mate shares my blood. She is more mine than yours,” Shathinor crows.
“Not true.” I silently send the words down the bond.
Leander’s nostrils flare as if he heard me. “Then why are you caging me?”
“All in good time.” I wink.
“What happened to you? Where did you go?” He stares at me as if he can see through me. “You’re still you, but somehow not.”
“I’m a better version of me,” I say out loud. “Taylor the changeling was weak, pathetic. I’m strong, and nothing will stand between me and my destiny.”
Leander’s gaze never leaves me. “You speak of the prophecy?”
I shrug. “Guilty as charged. Destroying the summer and winter realms seems like a great start.”
“They will fall and rise again under my banner.” Shathinor puts his arm around my shoulders.
I groan inwardly.
“My daughter is the prophecy made flesh.”
“She’s my mate.” Leander’s gaze locks with mine, and my heart twists.
“That’s unfortunate for you,” Shathinor gloats. “But her heart is set on you. So, I will allow her to keep you as a pet.”
“And if I decide to freeze you to death rather than be held prisoner?”
“Then I will kill your friends. One by one.” He whistles.
Scuffling sounds in the hallway have Leander’s glower deepening into thunderhead territory.
A host of guards yank Valen and Grayhail along, their bodies bound with iron.
“Release them.” Leander steps forward, but when his elbow brushes my barrier, the skin blackens, and he steps back.
Something filters through me, something that has no place here—guilt. “You should feel guilty. Let him go.” That voice, the one from inside is back like a bothersome gnat.
“Leander! I’m here. I’m here!” the voice screams, and I put my hands up to my ears. But it doesn’t stop. Is she growing stronger?
“Taylor.” His brows rise. “I can hear you, little one.”
Another noise behind me catches my attention, and I turn to find the obsidian witch Selene leaning against the door frame.
She looks me up and down. “Your feral looks good on you, changeling.”
“My feral?”
“The wings, the hair, the ruby lips.” She shimmies, her hard breasts shaking. “Hubba hubba. I never knew the queen of darkness, the ender of worlds, the embodiment of death would be such a turn-on.”
“Selene.” Shathinor purses his lips. “One more word and I’ll have you wrapped in iron like the other two.”
“I’d like to see you try.” She smiles, her black teeth glinting. “I let myself get caught, and I’ll leave when I like.” She splays her claws and examines them before returning her gaze to me. “Besides, I can smell doom, the first hint of the coming destruction. I want to taste it.”
I walk to Leander and stand just beyond the orb. “You came for me.”
“I will always come for you.” He moves closer. “I promised you that, and I will keep that oath until I go to the Ancestors.”
“And then?” My eyes water. Where is this weakness coming from?
“And then I will wait for you there.”
He pushes his hand through the orb, the skin turning black, but he still caresses my cheek as his flesh withers. “You are mine, and I am yours. And nothing save death can part us. And even then, not for long.”
“Leander.” The voice in my head—no, not just a voice. I know who it is. I’ve known all along. It’s me. “I love you.” Both the Taylor inside and the one I’ve become say it together.
“I love you, too.” He pulls his blackened hand back and turns his gaze to my father. “Mark this, I will be your end.”
Shathinor laughs and pulls me back by his side. “Your threats are empty, king. Come now, Daughter. We have plans.” He guides me out the door as the undead warriors advance on Leander.
As I lose sight of him, I can still feel him, the bond between us stronger than these stone walls.
12
Leander
“Well, this is cozy.” Valen grabs the bars and immediately lets go. “Iron. All iron.” He stands back from the side of the cage and looks up. “Up there, too.”
“Settle down.” Cenet stalks by the cage, his snakelike tongue darting out and tasting the air. “You aren’t going anywhere.” He points to the nearest changeling guard. “If they try anything, skewer one of them with your iron sword.”
“Sir.” The changeling guard steps forward, sword drawn, as Cenet leaves the throne room.
“Nice guy.” Valen hitches his thumb in the direction Cenet went.
“Step back. You heard Lord Cenet. I’m free to skewer any of you if you rub me the wrong way.”
“Skewer away.” Gray—large enough that his ears almost graze the roof of the cage—grabs the bars, his hands sizzling. “But when I get out of here, we’ll see which one of us dies on that thing.”
The changeling steps back, the color draining from his face.
I peer around the throne room. We’re caged along the side like prized trophies. No grim dungeon for us. Shathinor wants us displayed.
“How did you get captured?” I cross my arms over my chest.
Gray shoots Valen a glare. “Loverboy over here saw that blonde fae again, and she lured him into trouble. Of course, then I went to save him.” He shakes his head. “And here we are. All because Valen can’t keep cool around summer realm fae.”
“I can.” He shrugs. “But that one is particularly choice.”
I should scold him, should reinforce the notions of discipline, restraint, and caution. But I find I can’t say anything at all. Not after I made love to Taylor instead of making our escape. I rub my temples. Foolish.
“You were only just mated. It’s normal for the instinct to take over sometimes.” Gray, as always, seems to read my mind. “It was a trap either way. At least you got to be with Taylor.”
“It was stupid.” I give him a nod all the same.
“How did she change so much?” Valen plops down on the stone floor.
I’ve been asking myself the same question. “Selene said it was her feral fae.”
“Whoa.” Valen leans back on his elbows. “That’s pretty much unheard of. Her feral fae manifesting like that, with her so young?”
“We don’t know how old she is.” Gray paces one side of the cramped cage. “She could be older than Leander for all we know. And on top of that, she’s a necromancer.”
“A powerful one,” Valen adds. “She’s only just come into her magic, but she wields it like, like …”
“Like her father.” I grit my teeth.
“Pretty much.” Valen points to my wasted hand. “That’s not healing fast enough.”
“Save your power for—”
He closes his eyes and summons healing magic, green energy swirling around my hand until it’s repaired.
I flex my healed fingers. “Thanks.”
He shrugs. “That’s my job.”
Gray continues to pace as Valen lies back and uses his interlaced fingers for a pillow. I keep scanning the room, looking for a way out of this. But I can’t leave without Taylor. Will she come with me? Or stay here with Shathinor? The thought of her turning her back on me has me gripping the cage and yanking as hard as I can. The metal bends but doesn’t break.
“Too strong for you, traitor.” Shathinor strides in, his familiar smirk like a bad dream.
“I will get out.” I release the bars and let my hands hang at my sides, the iron keeping bits of my sizzling skin.
“You will.” He stops and peruses me with the same cold eyes that watched thousands of his own people fight and die, perish from starvation, and serve as nothing more than pawns in his war against the summer realm. “But only for your execution.”
“You think Taylor will allow that?”
He laughs low and slimy. “I’ve given her plenty of leash, but it’s almost time to yank it back. You think I don’t know she plans on my overthrow? She’s my daughter after all. It only makes sense that she wants the throne for herself. I don’t mind that. I truly don’t. And it will be easy enough to pull her into line.”
“You don’t know her.”
“Neither do you.” He cocks his head to the side. “You think she’s the same foolish changeling who followed you through the Greenvelde and the Red Plains? One look at her tells you that’s not the case. She has my wings, my darkness, my thirst for conquest. She is the greatest weapon in all of Arin, and I intend to use her until there’s nothing left.”
“You won’t touch her.” I pound the bars, the iron giving way but still not bursting free.
Shathinor doesn’t move. “Your time is almost up. Prepare your betrayer’s heart for the Spires. Tonight—” He turns toward a ruckus in the hallway. “What in the name of the Ancestors is—”
Thorn comes flying through the double doors and skids across the polished black floor. He flops onto his back, his face a bloody mess, as Shathinor gapes at him. “Shathinor. Long time, no see. How’s that whole being dead thing treating you?”
“Thorn.” Shathinor spits. “I think I’ll have you change to a bear before I kill you. I’d like your hide on my bed.”
Thorn nods appreciatively. “That is, by far, the creepiest invite to someone’s bed I’ve ever gotten.”
Shathinor kicks him in the stomach, and Thorn flies across the room, his back cracking against the rock wall. He coughs blood and heaves in a pained breath.
“I told you I’d bring you a gift, my king.”
We all turn toward the door.
“Traitor!” Valen rushes the iron cage, but Gray holds him back.
“Ah, the apprentice has returned.” Shathinor smiles as Brannon drops to his knee before him.
13
Taylor
Cecile knocks and enters, a new gown draped across her arms.
“What’s this?” I’ve been lying on my bed, staring at nothing, and thinking about Leander. But the interruptions are nonstop. The other voice in my head grows louder, telling me that we are in this together, that I’m her feral form, that we both survive or neither of us do. That doesn’t even make sense. I run this body. These are my wings. My magic.
“Taylor?” Cecile hesitates by the bed.
“What?”
She proffers the dress. “You asked what this was. I told you it’s for tonight. But you ignored me and zoned out.”
“How’s your human?” Where did that come from? I don’t care about her human.
“She’s fine.” Cecile lays the dress on the bed. “Mostly. Your death curse almost killed her, of course.” She clamps her mouth closed.
There’s that feeling again. The one that doesn’t belong. Guilt. It’s as if seeing Leander has unlocked the part of me that I keep trying to squelch.
The door opens, this time without a knock, and Selene glides in and drops onto my bed.
“Hey, watch the dress!” Cecile snatches it up. “I had to iron this myself.”
I laugh. The Taylor inside me joins for a moment, then sobers.
Cecile raises a brow at me but doesn’t respond.
“Afraid of you, this one is.” Selene clacks her teeth at Cecile. “Meat always tastes better when it dies afraid.”
Cecile shifts from one foot to the other, and part of me revels in her discomfort. The other part, the one I can’t seem to get rid of, pities her.
“You spit out my pea.” Selene lies back.
Cecile gags.
“P-e-a not p-e-e.” I point to the chair at my dressing table. “Put it there and go.” I wave her away. “It was time for me to shine, I suppose.”
“Have you decided who you’re going to be?” Selene rolls over to face me and rests her head on her hand, the obsidian crackling.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m personally rooting for death incarnate, the destroyer of Arin, the bringer of war, the—”
“I get it.”
“That would be glorious. Just imagine
all the bones.” She sighs contentedly. “So many bits, parts lying around, pools of blood, guts, and ooohh, think of all the teeth!”
“I could skip the gore. But I will crush the summer realm.” I pull a small orb of death into my palm and play with it. “Killing only makes me stronger.”
“You killed one in the Red Plains. How many have you killed here?” She turns those too-knowing eyes on me.
“Shathinor’s had me using all my magic to reanimate.” I roll my eyes. “He says that’s the hard part, the most important part.”
“He’s right. More soldiers that way.” She presses one finger into the black orb and pulls it back, staring at the pale skin revealed as the obsidian dies from the surface of her skin.
“Did you know that would happen?” I stare at her finger, the nail just like a regular fae’s, no more claw, no more black obsidian.
“No.” She shakes it, and the obsidian creeps back into place. “Interesting.”
“Maybe I could—”
She harrumphs. “I am obsidian. I do not break.”
“Okay then.” I chew my lip. “You said this is my feral form. Is that true?”
“Yes. Your feral was locked away for so long by that soulstone, that once it was set free, it took over. You are feral.”
“Right now? I’m feral right this second?”
“Don’t you feel feral?” She raises her white brows. “You’re power drunk, homicidal, and full of rage.” Her tone turns dreamy. “A deadly treat you are, wearing your darkness on the outside.”
“So, I can change back?”
“Can you?” She cackles, and I realize I’m not getting any more straight answers from her. I glance at the dress and try another avenue. “What sort of stupid ceremony is he planning for tonight? Gloating over Leander and his pals?”
“You didn’t answer my question. Who will you be? Death? Or, you could go back to being that little waif in the woods. The girl I met, the one who wanted to go home.”
