Chapter 45 #2
“The Fae possess magic, but compared to the Firstborn it’s insignificant. The Firstborn were said to have been created directly in the gods' image, gifted powers beyond anything the Fae could wield. For a long time, the balance held. Then the Fae learned how to harness the Veins.”
I remained silent. This wasn't the version of history I knew.
“They used High Lords and Ladies powerful enough to intercept the currents and channel that power through their lands. And once they had the strength to do it, they came for the Firstborn.”
“The Firstborn turned on the Fae.” I argued.
He shook his head. “No. They lived peacefully, in harmony with the natural world.”
I rolled my eyes. “You're telling me Tharnyx and all the Bone-Wrought were peaceful creatures?”
“I'm telling you that danger and malice are not the same thing.” He drew up one knee. “A hurricane isn't evil because it destroys a village. A wolf isn't evil because it kills a deer. Nature doesn't concern itself with morality.”
“And what about you?” I levelled an accusing glare at him.
A dark energy gathered in the room. It only seemed to feed the magic writhing inside me.
“When you possessed their minds and climbed onto a throne to rule Elantis, did you comfort yourself with the same logic?” I asked. “That you weren't responsible for the lives you destroyed because you were simply acting according to your nature?”
He gritted his teeth. “I did what had to be done to keep the balance.”
“How convenient that it was in your favor.”
He growled like a rabid dog. Every muscle in his body went taut at once, as though the effort of remaining still required every ounce of his restraint.
I should have been terrified. But my emotions had been drained away, and in their absence came a reckless sort of daring.
“And let me guess,” I continued. “Your Elly saw what was happening and her allegiance changed. She betrayed you, and before long the predator became the prey.”
He pressed his lips together. “She's helping us now.”
I laughed, but it came out thin. “Elyndra certainly has an effective way of convincing you she's changed.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you.”
It wasn't a question. There was a command in his voice that sent a thrill through me, a reminder that even drained by the salt flats, he was still the Dark Prince. His presence was a power all its own.
“Nothing.” I held his gaze in the mirror. “I’m exactly as I was made to be. And it feels… good.”
His expression shifted, understanding settling over his features.
“Your magic has taken over.”
Slowly, I nodded.
His tongue swept across his lower lip, and my gaze followed the motion before I could stop it.
“What caused this?”
I shrugged. My magic roiled beneath my skin, restless and demanding. Heat coursed through me in waves, leaving me flushed and uncomfortable, every inch of me feeling far too warm beneath the blankets. With a frustrated sound, I kicked them aside.
In the reflection overhead, his gaze traced the length of my bare legs before lifting back to my face. “Are you angry with me?”
I snorted. “I’m always angry with you.” I tilted my head, studying him through the dim glow. “I hate you.”
His mouth thinned. “Nothing happened.”
“Of course.”
“I swear it.”
“I saw the look on your face. I saw the state of the room when you were done with it.” Something knotted again in my chest, only to be swallowed immediately by the magic raging beneath my skin. “And most of all—I saw Elyndra.”
I didn't need to explain further. She was the most stunning creature I'd ever seen.
My magic rolled tighter and tighter around itself, pressing against my ribs, my lungs, every part of me, consumed by a fierce and irrational possessiveness that made no sense at all. Over my enemy. Over Rìan of all people.
The male I hated.
The male who intended to kill Aedric—my bonded mate.
But my magic didn't understand any of that. It didn't understand the resentment that had taken root between us, or the loathing my human side still clung to. It didn't care about reason, or history, or loyalty.
It wanted him.
And I was burning alive with the force of it.
“I don’t desire her,” he said tightly.
“Liar,” I breathed. My fingers drifted down my sides, tracing the soft fabric of the shirt.
It felt impossibly restrictive, trapping heat against skin already burning from within.
I tugged absently at the hem, desperate for relief that never came.
In the reflection, I watched Rìan freeze as my eyes found his. “Rìan, even I desired her.”
His breath caught. His gaze snapped down to my hand and back to my face, his brows drawing together as though he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “I don’t like this.”
I drew one leg up, my fingers tracing a lazy path down my thigh. Rìan watched my reflection in the mirrored ceiling with unnerving focus.
“What do you like, Prince?” The voice that emerged hardly sounded like my own. It was too smooth, too seductive, shaped by a hunger that wasn’t entirely human.
Gods, I was burning.
My magic thrashed within me, drowning every coherent thought beneath wave after wave of desperate wanting. And the sight of him lying there, watching me with that unwavering intensity, was only making it worse.
My fingers drifted lower, grazing the softness of my inner thigh.
I caught my lower lip between my teeth. In the reflection above us, I watched his eyes follow the movement.
“Stop,” he said, his arm flying out from beneath his head, but before he could push himself up, my fingers slid beneath the hem of my shirt, my knee falling apart as I traced the hot wetness I found there.
I couldn't stop the moan that slipped from my lips as the sensation ignited something deep within me.
I wanted… I wanted…
Lazily, I explored my own silky warmth, moving in slow, deliberate circles before sliding a finger inside me. My body clenched around it.
“Eidra—stop,” he said again, but it was hoarse now.
I kept eye contact with him in the reflection as the need raged through me, more urgent now, the pressure building with frightening speed. My body was burning with it, burning with desire, every coherent thought consumed by the ruthless demands of my magic.
He wet his lips and liquid warmth pooled against my fingers.
“Is this what you like?” My voice came in needy pants as the tension built and built, exquisite in its intensity.
Elyndra. He wanted Elyndra. There was no way he didn't.
“Stop, Eidra—please.” The last word came out choked.
A wicked thrill coursed through me as my magic responded to my will.
My eyes drained of color. My hair faded to creamy white.
My skin darkened, and a scattering of silver freckles bloomed across my cheeks and throat.
In the reflection above us, I watched the transformation take hold, and the sight of it sent a fresh rush of excitement through me, my walls clenching, my hips grinding against my hand—
“STOP.”
He moved so fast I barely saw it.
The world lurched sideways as he ripped me to the edge of the bed, and suddenly he was there, filling my entire field of vision—a towering wall of muscle and barely contained rage.
“Turn back.” He seized my shoulders and shook me. “Turn back right now.”
I should have been afraid. Instead, my magic blazed hotter, every nerve alive to how close he stood between my parted thighs.
His eyes were bloodshot, his entire body trembling as though every instinct in him was screaming to do something he was desperately trying not to do.
He smelled of rain and ozone, of thunderheads gathering on the horizon, of a storm moments from breaking.
Slowly, I let Elyndra's features dissolve. The bronze skin faded. My hair returned to its natural color. The silver freckles vanished.
I looked up at him calmly, meeting those dark, ferocious eyes.
“Is this what you like?” I whispered.
His jaw flexed. As though he were locked in a battle with himself and losing ground by the second.