Chapter 9 #3
Taking a seat beside me, he tucked the mushrooms into a velvet drawstring pouch and back into his coat.
“I’m old enough to know that the more spells siphoning my power, the less of it I have when I need it.
Potions, crystals, even your little stick runes, don’t draw on the witch’s energy to do its work.
Their source is connected to the ether all around us.
” He shrugged. “And it’s an excuse to get out of the castle. I like doing that now, thanks to you.”
“I’m not sure what I did to make that happen, but you’re welcome. Thanks for bringing me up here. It’s nice to get away.”
“I figured if I left you six feet under, the least I could do would be to bring you a mile high for good measure.”
“Is this where you push me off the edge?”
Spade let out that rare, hearty laugh of his, making my insides flip flop at its warm sound. “Tantalizing prospect, but no.”
“Somebody should.” I rested my chin on my knees. “I can’t manage to do anything right.”
Spade nudged me with his arm. “You do have an uncanny knack for making the worst decision possible at any turn.”
“Wow, thanks.” I jabbed him with my elbow.
“It depends on what the fates want with them.”
“What?” I laid my cheek on my knee to look over and up at him as he leaned back on his palms, gazing over the mountaintops.
“Your question about what happens if someone walks into the wither’s mist. They could die, or they could be taken to Asunder, or…”
“Or?” I pressed, feeling my pulse rise in fear and anticipation. I didn’t know which option would be worse, honestly, and I hoped beyond anything that my sister was okay. Even if she hated me, hexed me, hoped I was dead, I hoped for nothing more than her wellbeing.
“Or,” Spade continued. “Some wayward spirit fucks with her.”
“Oh, goddess.” I buried my head in my hands. “Do you or Never know if she’s alive? Can Never see into the fog?”
“The wither’s fog is their own. Typically, the archdemons use it for their own means.
However, these archedemons, such as your sister’s preferred one whom you slayed, were commanded long ago by Asunder.
Rulers throughout time and realms have sought to command archdemons and many do.
So what Asunder does with their fog is dependent on the witch within it.
She’s no longer in Willowspire, I know that much for certain. ”
“Then she’s alive?”
“I’d say so.”
“Good.” I exhaled, my shoulders easing slightly.
Spade cocked his head at me. “Good? That… I’m not so sure. Regardless of whether someone or… something… else has her… it’s only a matter of time before she’s in Asunder’s clutches.”
“I don’t know much about Asunder. Just that when Asunder took over the realm, magic was outlawed, and anyone who uses it outside of the approved means is taken. I assume they’re killed, or… something worse.”
“Your mothers were taken, right?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
A part of me wanted to fire back at him, blame him for not protecting Willowspire, cast judgement on the lords for not doing more…
but what was the point? It wouldn’t bring my mothers or my sister back.
For the moment, Spade was being forthright with me, either out of guilt or something else.
So the best use of my energy was to keep him talking, keep him helping me.
The Blackthornes, however unruly and unpredictable, were still my biggest advantage, and the most powerful allies I had.
If I could even refer to the people who buried me underground as allies.
“Can I get her back?”
“I don’t know if anyone has ever tried.”
“Can I, though? Is there a way?”
“Perhaps. Though… would she want your company if you did?”
“I don’t care what she wants. What she needs is to stop throwing a fit that she can’t have whatever she thinks she has with some thoughtless monster. She completely lost her mind there towards the end. What she needs is home and safety. I don’t care if she hates me for it.”
“It was remarkable, what you did.”
That caught my attention. A compliment from Spade?
“You killed the wither I battled and got this from.” He pointed to his scarred eye. “He was mighty and formidable. Many beings had tried for centuries to do what you did. I believe you hold a great deal of power, Rumor.”
Surprise fluttered through me at his words. “Thank you. I just want to be powerful enough to bring her back home for good.”
“Also,” Spade interrupted my thought and took my chin with his thumb and forefinger. The contact with his skin and the proximity of his lips instantly had my breath catching in my throat. “You may not be a diamond, but you’re not ash, not even close.”
“You don’t think so?” I gasped, feeling his breath against my face, his aroma invading my senses with amber and peppermint.
He leaned forward. “No, Rumor Malefic. You may not be a diamond, bright and pure as your sister. A garnet, deep crimson, perhaps. Whatever it may be, you are something dark and wickedly enchanting.”
“In a well-fitting dress?” I breathed, my eyes hooding in desire for a taste of him.
Spade’s hand wrapped around my waist. “A garnet in a very enticing, well-fitted dress.”
As if in slow motion, as if he were monitoring and waging each movement, Spade drew closer and closer.
My eyes drifted closed and finally I felt his lips press against mine.
Warm, full, and soft. The moment we touched, his magic washed over me like the softest, lightest silk curtain of yearning.
For a moment, as his lips teased at mine and his magic caressed my skin, sinking into me, searching to dance with my own power, I felt as if I was looking into a mirror, glimpsing into the Spade behind the mask.
Spade Blackthorne’s mask was as securely fastened as my own.
Hardened after years of wear, stuck to our faces with the stain of tears we refused to cry or hid when we did.
I felt his anguish; I churned with his rage.
I wondered what had happened to make him this way—to make him as miserable and melancholy and malicious as me.
For a brief moment, a stray thought like a bat in the night, or like a white stag in the woods, rather, pattered through my mind.
Riot.
But Riot hadn’t come for me. Spade had. What did that mean?
What did this moment with Spade mean? Did it even matter to me?
Spade’s soft lips parted mine as our breathing intensified, warming me against the cold mountain air.
He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me, holding me flush to his chest as I melted into his kiss.
I flicked my tongue into his mouth, catching his taste, mingling it with my own. We both let out a small exhale at the intrusion, and I found myself pressing harder against him. My hands traveled to the back of his short hair, feeling the strands between my fingers.
With a small rush of strength, Spade picked me up and pulled me into his lap facing him. My legs wrapped around his middle as our kisses became frantic with need. One of his hands cupped my lower back while the other grabbed my hip.
Suddenly, he thrusted against me, hard.
I gasped, almost biting his lip at the force—when he did it again. “Spade,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Rumor,” he whispered darkly, continuing his thrusts.
The hard bulge in his pants hit against my exposed inner thigh so hard I knew it would bruise—I loved that it would bruise. Spade moved both hands to my hips and roughly pulled me to meet his every thrust, pushing airy moans from my mouth as I fought to stay connected by our kiss.
I held onto his shoulders, relishing each movement, each hit from his forceful, solid strikes. He pulled back, continuing his rhythm, and looked into my eyes with his piercing, soulful stare. Ripples of his magic washed over me, and somehow, something shifted.
As a hazy, smoky mist shrouded in wisps of smoke surrounded us, my perspective shifted, and I wasn’t on top of him anymore—I was him.
I stared into my own eyes and noticed the hollow, faint purple circles beneath them.
My raven hair unfurled and unruly as it tangled down my shoulders.
I looked upon my pale skin and winter’s air-kissed pink cheeks, and something within me burned like an all-consuming forest fire.
Wait, no, not me—him. I was looking at myself as Spade; I was feeling what he felt as he felt it.
Was it his magic? It must have been. The daimon’s power and prowess sucked me into his soul and let me gaze out from his eyes, allowed me to feel what it was like to exist within his form.
I felt incredible, spellbinding sorcery rushing within me, raging like a blaze.
So much ancient strength married with mystic sorcery.
The sensation was almost scary, like holding a match in my fingertips and watching the flame sink down the wooden stick, just waiting for the moment it burnt my skin.
I watched my lips part, red with kissing, my breath ragged and needy.
My chest swelled, no, Spade’s chest swelled with a torrent of feeling.
God, so much feeling. How did someone so quiet, so reserved and introspective, endure feeling so much all at once?
These brief moments within his psyche were enough to make me want to scream and throw myself off the ledge just to silence the pain, the longing, the fury.
When Spade looked at me, he noticed everything. Every flaw I sought to hide or ignore. Every weakness I struggled to strengthen to my advantage. The desire to protect, the yearning to serve, the passion to fuck… it all compounded within his chest and screamed my name.
“Rumor,” he called out, deep and breathless.
The wisps of black flung me back into my body, where his fingertips jabbed into the flesh of my hips and pummeled me into his hardness.
“Spade,” I whimpered, wanting to cry and scream and kiss him all at the same time. “What—what was that?”
“Everything,” he answered. “What will you do with it?”
What would I do with Spade Blackthorne? This massively powerful lord. A stormy and ancient daimon. A longing and sad man…
My center slid along his bulge, and I gasped, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. My release built and built at the friction until I was unable to resist. I let out a moan into the fabric of his coat, feeling the sensation burst and flutter around him.
With several more thrusts, Spade let out a groan, coming in his pants as I straddled his lap. We hadn’t even taken off our clothes and I felt naked. I felt he’d seen my soul and I’d seen his.
“What… the hell… just happened.” I panted, feeling weak yet euphoric in his hold.
“You really are so incredibly angry, but there’s much more beneath that, isn’t there?” he answered, catching his breath.
I pulled back to look at him. “You… did you feel me, too? Did you see through my eyes and feel my spirit as I did yours?”
Spade nodded. “Our magics… collided. They danced, in a way.”
“Is that common… during… whatever this was… sex?”
“It can be for those fated for each other,” he answered.
“Fated?” My heart nearly stopped. I shook my head, ignoring the build of hope within my chest. “I guess you didn’t hear that my sister hexed me to never be loved.”
“I guess it’s lucky that I am likewise hexed. Hexed so many times, by so many witches and magical beings throughout time and realms… I am but a cauldron of curses… and I’d be happy to join you in your misery, if you’d have me, Rumor.”
Was Spade Blackthorne really asking what it sounded like he was asking? I opened my mouth to respond when something crashed behind us.
Spade pried his gaze from my face and turned to look over his shoulder as I still clung to him in his lap. Another crash sounded, trees cracking, branches breaking—it was then we saw it at the same time.
A flash of deep red, towering and thundering up the mountain.
A wither.
A big, red, horned wither.