Grim
His eyes flashed toward Cronan, and his ancestor simply turned to him. He spoke right into his mind, and said, You’ve betrayed me. You didn’t think I could let you live, did you?
Even now, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.
I’ve seen your mind, his ancestor said. I know you want to save your realm. If you win the duel, I will let Nightshade survive. I swear it, on my crown.
The jagged metal atop Cronan’s head glistened, as if in reflection of the oath. Then, his shadows retreated.
She was going to die. He was going to kill her.
It was a certainty he had known from the beginning. Either Cronan was going to end her . . . or Grim was. It was the only way to prevent the possibility of the destiny he had seen. Only recently did he learn that because of their bound lives, her death would trigger his own.
Though his emotions had been running wild in these last few days, he felt nothing now. Only flat acceptance.
He was going to die. But at least his realm would live. He had meant the words he had told her, just moments before.
I said I remembered a world worth saving. Not that I remembered a life worth living.
Her rush of passion in response, her insistence that he had once been happy, had lit a strange flame within him, a desire to believe her. An unfamiliar yearning to not only survive but live.
For a moment, he had envisioned a future that was just like she had spoken about, without duties or fate binding them. Now he realized all it had been was a dream. A ridiculous fantasy.
Isla seemed to realize it too. Her emotions were flat as a lake as he led her from the galaxy room to the women who would prepare her for the duel tomorrow. He only sensed the slightest hints of regret and worry, but the rest . . . was peace.
He wondered what that meant. Had she finally realized he would never remember her? That Cronan was unstoppable, which had been clear even before Isla revealed that his knights were all versions of himself?
Cronan had scattered himself throughout the universe, throughout time, throughout this world. He couldn’t be killed. If one version of him was eliminated, another would be waiting.
Isla had been wrong. Together, they still wouldn’t have had a chance against ending Cronan.
Grim had to save his realm. He had to defeat her in the duel.
He wished the thought of having to kill her didn’t make him frown. This duel was a good thing. A gift, just as Cronan removing his memories had been.
But Grim couldn’t deny now that it felt more like a curse. More like a taking. An absence that he missed.
In his last night of life, he would have wanted more moments to remember.
Cronan allowed him to attend dinner with the rest of the lords of planets. Isla’s seat was noticeably empty. He tried to shove his emotions down, to not feel her absence just as sharply as he had felt her presence, but it was impossible.
He wanted to kill his ancestor. Desperately. But that was also impossible. So, he would do whatever he needed to ensure his realm’s survival.
After dinner, he portaled into his room . . . and stilled. Her aura was everywhere. Her.
Slowly, he turned, only to find Isla sitting on the edge of his bed as if ripped from one of his daydreams.
She was wearing an otherworldly fabric that glistened like a dusting of stars. It was thin as spider silk and just as transparent. She might as well be wearing nothing at all.
“This is what they gave me to wear to the duel,” she said, noticing his study. The dress would tear the moment she moved. Cronan clearly meant to humiliate her. Her head tilted. “I think it’s a little too modest.”
He blinked a few times to try and clear his mind. He kept his hand on his bedpost, knuckles whitening as he clung to it like it was an anchor in this sea of intensity that threatened to sweep him off his feet.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was breathless. Almost pained.
She lifted a shoulder. “You kill me tomorrow,” she said. She didn’t even try to pretend she would win. “I want to spend my last few hours of life with you.”
“Why?” he asked. He needed to know. Needed to understand the emotions that turned people into fools so that he wouldn’t become one of them.
“Because you’re my husband, and I love you,” she said. “Even if you end up stabbing me through the heart tomorrow.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Grim asked. His chest was rising and falling too quickly. “Don’t you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
She smiled. “Love usually is.”
She stood before him, and he could see her—all of her—clearly now. The fabric hid little, and she did not shrink beneath his study. No, she closed the space between them like she had done it a thousand times before.
“I can leave, or I can stay. It’s your choice.” She peered at him, waiting for his decision. When he said nothing, she nodded. She swept past him, out the door.
Good. A night together would only complicate things tomorrow. He watched her go.
Before she stepped foot out of his room, he snatched her wrist, pulling her back. He had portaled so quickly, the world had blurred. She paused, looking over her shoulder at him.
Perfection was a person. And she was standing right in front of him.
She raised a brow at him in challenge. They stared each other down. He had promised himself that he would be better, that he wouldn’t fold beneath temptation. He had watched her stab him in the heart in a loop. He had reminded himself of his countless centuries of self-control.
But fuck him, this was one battle he was willing to lose.
He tugged her inside, slamming the door shut behind her. It was against that door that he pressed into her, unleashed, his eyes sweeping down her body, studying her hungrily.
The starlit dress was so delicate, it would tear beneath his touch, rip beneath his teeth. He knew that it needed to be intact for her execution, but he was tempted to shred it to ribbons.
Instead, hand trembling with restraint, he gently trailed his fingers up her thigh, knuckles brushing against the dangerously thin fabric, until he found that slit.
And then he was smoothing across warm, soft skin.
His heart was racing. The world could end right now and he wouldn’t even notice, his entire focus was on the path up the inside of her leg.
Higher. Higher. She shivered beneath his touch, her breathing slow and heavy.
She gazed up at him expectantly. In her eyes, he could see all of his wants reflected.
In her aura, he could taste the depths of her desire.
And when his fingers finally reached her center, he could feel that she wanted this just as much as he did.
He cursed, his fingers sliding over the silk. She groaned, moving against his fingers. He leaned low to get a good look at her.
She craned her head up, so their faces were just inches apart.
“Please,” she begged, right against his mouth.
“So polite,” he murmured, his blood roaring with need. “Tell me, do you only say please and thank you when I’m giving you something?”
His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, and they both cursed. She squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment. When she opened them, they were fierce, blazing green. It was clear who held the power here. And she knew it. “Give me everything and find out.”
In that moment, he knew he would.
She was his ruin. She wasn’t even touching him, and he was already close to losing himself completely.
She was the blade destined to cut through his heart. It felt like she was already there, testing him, testing his ability not to break.
Especially when his fingers trailed lower, and she made a sound that went right to the throbbing core of him.
There. She wanted him there. His gaze slipped down her body, tracing it with his eyes like he wanted to do with his mouth, and he had never been more turned on in his entire life, watching her writhe against his hand, cheeks heated, her chest nearly spilling out of her dress.
Her head had turned to the side, lips parted in another gasp, but, as if she could feel his study, she faced him again.
Their eyes caught, like a key clicking into a lock.
“You have two hands,” she said. “Use them.”
No one had ever spoken to him like that. He was ruler of his realm, the leader of an army, but for her, he was willing to serve. He would do anything she asked.
He used the other hand to palm her chest, fingers featherlight against the delicate fabric, thumb brushing against her hardened peak, and she bucked against him, her body going taut with pleasure.
He suddenly wished he had more than just two hands, so that he could touch her everywhere, but then he remembered his shadows.
He used them to sweep across her chest while he reached to grip her hip, cupping her firmly in place before he finally leaned down, whispered in her ear, “I hope you have all night, because this is just the start of what I have to offer,” and then he slipped a finger inside her.
One turned into two and she took it all, grinding against his hand, nails clawing into his wrist as she told him how to make her feel good. He followed every order, every command, hanging on her every word until her body went taught then loose around him.
That was when he lifted one of his hands to cup the back of her neck, and pulled her lips to his. Her taste. She was a drug that would kill him before he quit.
He didn’t want to leave a single inch of skin untouched.
His shadows stroked her as he swallowed her moans with his mouth, guiding her through every tremor, until she stopped moving against him.
She panted against the wall, chest heaving, eyes bright.
She looked at him like she needed more. Everything.
It was the hardest thing he had ever done, slowly slipping the straps of her delicate dress off her shoulders. Slowly, unbuttoning every tiny button down the back. Slowly, lifting her out of it. And as soon as the dress hit the floor, she was in his arms.
He set her on the edge of the bed, and took a step back, just to admire her like a work of art. Because her beauty deserved to be worshipped. He planned to—thoroughly.
And wholly naked . . . he took a moment just to breathe before he stalked toward her. His own clothes dropped away, and he didn’t miss how her tongue darted out to lick her lips. And even just the thought of that mouth on him . . .
“We’ve done this before?” he asked, his voice full of barely leashed desire. He had seen it in his head—but he needed to know for certain.
“On every surface you can think of.”
“Good.” She gasped as he swept her back into his arms. Fuck the bed. “We’re going to add a few more places to the list.”