Chapter 57
MERYN
Sleep—or is it?
I open my eyes to unnatural darkness.
It’s vast. It’s alive. It’s immediately in my lungs and seeping into my pores. But I know this feeling. I can face it. I can master it.
Killian doesn’t know what I know about this place: that my ancestor-god Nocturn sometimes speaks to me here. I have to assume he’s the one responsible for its existence.
It has nothing to do with Killian—he’s only a pest, an infestation.
Soon to be eliminated.
I turn, scanning. My eyes sting as I strain myself trying to see into the swirling vat of shadow. I don’t see Killian or sense his presence.
Does he know that I’ve come? Does he have to be asleep at the same time for this to work? How long will I have to wait? The longer he doesn’t appear, the stronger the creeping paranoia tingling along my spine grows.
I can’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here, watching me.
I shut my eyes, the difference between closed and open negligible, and visualize armor around me. Armor he could never get through, smelt and forged from the same shadows surrounding me.
My shadows.
When I open my eyes, a glint of eerie blue makes me wince. Killian.
I let my head drop toward my chest. I’ve done this before. A hundred times and a hundred times after that.
Women in pain.
I pull my pain to the surface. I call on the emotion I’ve been resisting for months because it would have been too debilitating to live with.
And it’s healing, almost, to let it out like this. To wield it. To own it, be it.
To be weak in a way that is powerful.
I let my eyes grow glassy with tears, and then I look up at him and gasp. “Oh, thank the goddess. Killian!”
He steps toward me out of the shadows, wariness playing across his features. “Kitten.”
Swallowing down my disgust, I move toward him, arms outstretched. “I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since we last talked. I’m so sorry it took me this long.”
Killian holds up a hand, halting me before I reach him. He raises an eyebrow. “My forces told me you were in Nocturna. That you went to Linsfall and took the Tear we located there. I thought I made myself very clear. You were meant to stay put in Astreona until I summoned you.”
Tears slide down my cheeks. “I didn’t want to take it.” You hideous fuckturd. “After what happened at the border, Lucien insisted that we come here to hunt you and Alistair down. I figured out where the Tear was, and I took it so I could bring it to you! We shouldn’t trust anyone else with these.”
His brows lift in surprise. “Oh. But you attacked my troops.”
I shake my head. “Only because Lucien was still with me. I couldn’t let him know what I was planning.”
Killian purses his lips, moving closer to me, putting his hands on my arms in a way that I’m sure is meant to be comforting. “And Lucien? Where did he go?”
Twisting my face into a parody of menace, I say, “I killed him, just like you told me to. I cut off his head while he was sleeping. His crown is yours.”
Finally, a disgusting smile creeps across Killian’s face. “Good girl. So you have both the crowns, the Tear from Linsfall, and your necklace. The Mother Priestess told me about that last one.”
Fucking bitch. Of course she did. I’m not going to tell him about the Tear from the tower, but if he already knows about my necklace… “And Lucien’s. He had a necklace, too. It was easy to remove it once he no longer had a neck.”
“And what do the necklaces and the Tear from Linsfall do?” There’s a greedy glint in his gaze now. “Will they help us defeat Alistair?”
I shake my head, playing dumb. Eyes wide, I lean against him, trying not to recoil at his touch. “I have no idea. They don’t do anything for me. But I’m sure they’ll reveal their powers to you.”
He reaches up, tucking my hair behind my ear. I hum at his touch to cover up the gagging sound I almost make.
“What about your wolf’s mate and his rider?” Killian’s voice is a low, grubby caress.
My stomach twists at the question. I know what I need to say here. We planned it all out. And yet my tongue is heavy and unwilling.
I push through anyway. This is the only way. Locking eyes with him, I put a vicious tone into my voice. “Take them. Anassa will understand. That we need to eliminate them for you to seize your rule. We’ll bind them with shadows and bring them to you. Let Tormun deal with him.”
Finally, Killian’s smile reaches his eyes—it’s a horrible, soulless look. He lifts a hand and brings his thumb to my lips, rubbing it roughly over my mouth. Energy gathers. Chaotic. Terrifying. Dreadful.
I know what’s going to happen before it does, and I steel myself for it, every muscle in my body screaming out at the wrongness.
Killian kisses me. It hurts—he’s left his fangs out, and one pierces my lip, drawing blood.
I’m stuck, sinking into myself, trying hard to cover myself in that armor I visualized.
It’s brief but lasts forever. Finally, he pulls away.
His gaze is hard as he stares into my eyes. His breath is on my bleeding lip.
“I love you,” he tells me.
“I love you, too,” I lie, my mouth sour. “I can’t wait to be at your side.”
“You’ll come to me?” he asks. “I’m outside Blumenfall.”
I nod, my head heavy and dizzy. “I’ll be there in the morning. And then we’ll find a way to remove Alistair from your body and we can start our lives together.”
All the words he wants to hear, flowing freely from my tongue, even as they sink a dagger into my gut. Please, please, please let everything go right tomorrow.
Killian’s answering grin makes very real pain light up all through my body. My nerves fire as though I’m being slowly stabbed.
“I’ll see you in the morning, then, kitten,” Killian says.
The shadows rise to blot out my vision, drenching us in darkness.
I wake to moonlight and cinders clinging to their heat.
Anassa’s tail is draped over my legs. Her slow breaths ground me, but I can’t find my own. Still perched against Anassa, I turn my head.
Stark is already awake and watching me.
His expression is muted, but his eyes are slightly too wide where they’re shadowed by his brow. He isn’t calm.
I lift my arm and reach for him. His body snaps into motion, and he’s up and striding across the camp with his hands in fists.
It was… it was awful. It hurt. It still hurts. The wound on my lip didn’t follow me back, but I swear it still stings.
I can barely breathe.
Stark kneels in front of me and lets me sink my fingers into his hair and pull. He bows his head as I bring it close.
A single instant of touching him brings me back into myself. His hand comes up and closes around my wrist tightly. He’s asking if I’m all right.
“What I said to him. I wouldn’t—I…” I can’t believe I said what I did. “You… I’d never—”
“Shh.” It’s so soothing. “I know.”
Then, in one fell swoop, he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder.
“Stark, what on earth?” I hiss, looking around the dark camp. Noemi is still curled up against Ephyse’s side, asleep. Anassa and Cratos are asleep as well.
In several long strides, Stark is moving us away from the fire and away from the campsite. “Cratos found a hot spring earlier. You heard Anassa’s orders. You stink.”
My face heats. I slap at his back, but I know my hands probably feel like an annoying gnat to him rather than anything meaningful. “Let me down, you brute!”
We’re moving deeper into the forest now, his arm clenched firmly around my upper thighs as I squirm in his tight hold. “It’s time for a bath. I’m going to scrub you, your royal filthiness.”
He’s right; I need to clean up, but something about the way he’s ordering me around has me wanting to fight against his authority.
Within a few minutes, we’re at the hot spring—a gorgeous pool of steaming water in a secluded clearing. I have to admit, it looks inviting.
Stark drops me unceremoniously at the side of it. “Strip,” he demands. His dark eyes are blazing, and heat—entirely unrelated to the springs—whispers through me, curling low in my gut.
Suddenly, this feels like it has nothing to do with my need to wash—and entirely to do with the fact that we may be facing our deaths tomorrow.
We have one night, these few precious hours, until we confront uncertainty.
And I want nothing more than for Stark to take me roughly, to make me forget all my fears and drown out all my insecurities until all I can sense or feel is this. Him.
Us.
So I step toward him, tilting my chin in defiance. “And if I don’t?” My tone is hard, but I know he can hear the flirtation underneath it.
His lips curl. “You’ll get a spanking.”
I take another step toward him, our chests almost touching. “Make me.” Then I reach out through our bonds and send consent his way. “I want you to make me. Please.”
He shivers slightly as it reaches him, then he stares at me with open need. “Just tell me to stop if you want it to stop at any point.”
Stark puts one foot up on the boulder next to him. Then he grabs my wrist and pulls me harshly toward him, bending me over his knee. In one swift move, he yanks down both my trousers and my panties.
My bare ass and cunt are exposed to the cold air, and I tremble from anticipation.
“You like to be treated like a filthy princess, don’t you?” he growls, his hand coming down to palm my ass cheeks.
“Yes, Alpha,” I whimper as his calloused hand caresses me. I do. I love the way he treats me: debauchery and worship all at once.
The air shifts as Stark pulls his hand back and then swipes it against my backside in a sharp sting.
A moan tears out of me. I can tell how careful he’s being with his touch; I know Stark at his worst, his most violent. This is a strong man playacting at being rough, and the thought makes wet heat build instantly between my thighs.
Stark caresses the spot he slapped on my cheek, then slides his fingers down, feeling how slick I am for him. As I watch, he brings his thick fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.
“Again,” I beg. He’s growing hard underneath me, against my torso, and I wriggle against him.