18. Nevermore
Nevermore
Rumor Malefic
From far above, a scene flashed in cuts of black and white. A beast pinned my sister to the dirt as she screamed and writhed. She cried out in agony and hurt, cornered. Dreaded blue fog crept over the ground, and a roar shook the forest.
Terror pounded in my temples as I gasped for breath, begging my mind to open a door and allow me to escape the vision and enter the waking world once more.
Prism was hurt and crying. My sister was in the woods, and she was being hunted.
Whatever strange magic brought me these glimpses of her had to be telling me something and, at the very least, was showing me that she was alive.
Prism was alive and she needed me. Excruciating pain throbbed on the side of my face. The spider’s legs wrapped around my skull, ripping tears from my eyes, leaving me raw and reeling.
What do I do? How do I save you? Will I ever hex the Blackthorne Boys into submission?
Suddenly, a pungent odor enveloped my senses, burning my nostrils and pulling me from the darkness.
A flash of white filtered into my mind, as if a door from a deep cellar had opened to expansive sunshine.
With a groan, I opened my eyes to a dark room, the curtains drawn, and only a single candle flickering on the bedside table.
White linens surrounded me, and the floors shimmered with sparkling white marble containing tiny specks of gold.
As my vision cleared, the shape of a man took form.
Riot lowered to sit on the bed, by my knees.
I was too weak to protest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his long snowy hair tied back into a low ponytail.
He offered me a glass of water. “Full disclosure, this is moon water with drops of ascension tonic. It should help whatever ails you.”
A concerned and tender lilt to his voice was welcome, though my hatred for him hadn’t waned. I sat up slowly, the room spinning. “Where am I?”
“My room. My bed.”
Something unwanted fluttered in my belly. Maybe I was just happy to not be waking up in a grave… or maybe it was something else.
I’d push that feeling way, way down and not acknowledge it.
Taking the water from his grip, our fingers brushed, and his gaze shot to mine at the contact.
I took a sip to quiet the flutters. A shot of pain burned my temple, but it slowly faded to a dull thrum as I finished the drink.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and a skeleton carrying a silver platter walked in.
Grimacing, I eased away on instinct as it passed the tray to Riot.
“They only look scary. The bones, as we call them, are harmless.”
The skeleton’s arms clanked and rattled as it exited, shutting the door quietly.
Riot removed the domed lid, and the aroma of roast duck and sweet potatoes made my stomach growl.
“Where do they come from?” I asked, accepting the tray and taking a mouthwatering bite of rosemary herbed and buttered meat.
Riot leaned back on the bed, staring idly at the domed ceiling. “The graves out front, mostly. Or, you know, witches who sneak in and die terrible deaths.”
“Very funny,” I replied with a mouth full of sweet potato. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“My brother and I… well, suffice it to say, we bring out the worst in each other sometimes. You’re a liar and a thief, but I can also acknowledge in equal measure, you are a frightened little girl.”
I put down my fork with a clank. “I am not frightened and I am not a little girl. I am a woman and a witch, here to implore you to save my sister. That is it.”
Riot nodded unenthusiastically. “Sure, sure.”
“Why would I lie? Just to stay here and be tormented by the two Blackthorne boys?”
He lifted a shoulder. “There’s three of us, actually.”
The water I was sipping lodged in my throat and I coughed. “There’s another one of you?”
Goddess help me.
Riot’s answering smirk didn’t do well to soothe my nerves. “We haven’t seen him in some time.”
“Do you miss him?”
“No.”
“Well, I miss my sister.”
Letting out a sigh, Riot put a hand on my knee. “Things will be much easier for you here, and with Spade, if you’re honest. We both know what this is.”
I pulled my leg away from his touch. “Tell me what this is then? Because all I want is my sister back safe and at home.”
“Say we believe this little act of yours. What would you have us do to retrieve your sister from the claws of a wither?”
“Anything is better than what you’ve both been doing up here—which is nothing.
Your magic is wasted on“—I gestured around the room—“finery and comfort, whilst the people of Willowspire, my people, scavenge and scrape by. The withers are nothing compared to the raptures. You’re our lords, don’t you care? Surely there is something you can do.”
“Ah, and if we don’t, your plan is to hex us into it?”
“Then murder you in your sleep. Yes.”
My shoulders jolted with surprise as Riot broke out into a hearty laugh. The bed shook as he rested his palms on his knees in mirth. Something about the sound eased my head, or maybe it was the tonic, or the food. Despite myself, the corners of my mouth lifted. “I’m not joking.”
He dried his eyes. “Oh, I know you’re not, rat. You’re a fearsome little thing, aren’t you?”
I cocked my head, feeling cool air on my bare shoulder.
My shirt had fallen slightly, exposing the top of my arm and the faintest bit of cleavage.
Riot’s gaze dropped to my bare skin, and the warmth in my core returned.
He looked like an ivory devil in candlelight.
“I always get what I want,” I said with a sultry rasp.
Riot lifted an eyebrow. “That, I fear, is not a lie.” Taking my tray, he sat it on a nearby table.
Strolling back over, he lifted his arms and tugged off his shirt.
A small breath left my mouth at the sight of him.
His long, lean form—each ab visible and his muscles molded to perfection.
“How old are you?” I asked, blatantly gawking.
“Old.”
I swallowed as he walked around to the other side of the bed and lifted the blankets. “What are you doing?”
“Seducing you. Is it working?”
“Not at all.”
It was.
Suddenly I felt very warm and acutely aware of how close to me this man, fae, witch, god, whatever title, was to me. “Thank you for helping my head.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Yes, unfortunately. Why did you help me? I’m just a rat, after all.”
Riot snorted. “I suppose I can relate to being plagued by a condition you have no control over.” His gaze drifted to the clock on the wall. “At midnight, I must go. Until then… we have three hours.”
“Why must you go at midnight?”
“Why must you look so goddamn delectable?” He turned toward me and rested his head on his palm. “What do you say? Ever wondered what it’d be like to fuck a lord?”
Yes .
“No.” I sucked in a breath. “Is that why you brought me here? To take advantage of me?”
“The door’s open, go to your room anytime, but I’m letting you know now that you are welcome in my bed whenever you desire. Tell me to stop and I shall. Though, I must say, this presents wonderful access for your plan to kill me in my sleep.”
I rolled over toward him. “What do I get if I stay?” I schemed quickly in my head.
Did I want him? Well, yes, my body was aching and my skin danced with his magic.
However, if he wanted me… perhaps I could leverage that to get what I ultimately needed above all else.
“Will you listen more? Will you consider helping me?”
“Over dinner and wine?” His eyes sparkled as his gaze dropped to my lips.
“Yes,” I agreed, moving closer.
Riot’s hand gripped my hip then, pulling me flush to him.
Feeling his hard girth against my thigh flooded my core with heat.
He skimmed his lips over mine, neither of us puckering or going in for a kiss.
This wasn’t romance, this wasn’t emotional, this was a means to an end.
Though… a pleasant, mutually beneficial means to an end.
Clary sage washed over me, and his magic became velvet against my bare shoulder as he unbuttoned my blouse, revealing my bra. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pushed my pelvis forward, grinding into his desire.
“You needy little thing,” he purred, dropping his hand to the waistband of my pants.
“Whatever shall I do with you?” With a flick of his thumb, he unbuttoned them and pulled down my zipper.
Calloused fingers inched below the band of my panties, and I sucked in a breath, waiting for him to feel how wet I was.
Riot paused and skimmed his lips over mine again, never kissing me, only teasing, as if he were deciding if he wanted to or not. I held his wrist then, urging him lower, and he let out a low laugh. “Eager, are we?”
His hand finally budged and drifted lower, just over the spot I wanted him. My hips urged forward and I let out a small whimper of anticipation and want.
When suddenly?—
The door to Riot’s room burst open. With a start, I pulled the blanket over my shoulders, but Riot didn’t move, only propped up to survey the intruder.
Spade stood over the bed, anger flashing away any of the velvet magic that had greeted my skin, instead leaving being a hundred fire ants. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Riot replied with a lazy sort of ego that was both sexy and infuriating. “Jealous?”
Spade snorted, passing me a hateful glance. “You may want to consider an immune potion after fucking her. I can’t imagine she doesn’t suck the life out of her hosts.”
“Fuck you,” I snapped.
Ignoring me, Spade , standing there in his typical all black attire, and slicked back onyx hair, crossed his arms. “Let’s go. You know we have someplace to be.”
“Not until midnight.” Riot grabbed my hips and pulled them back to his. “Now, if you’d kindly fuck off, I’d like to?—“
“You know where we have to be tonight.”
Riot brought his hand to his forehead as his recollection jogged and let out a belabored sigh. “Sorry, rat, my turn to battle my afflictions. Unfortunately, there’s no ascension potion or moon water strong enough for what haunts me.” He left the bed, adjusted himself, and pulled on his white shirt.
“What afflictions? Where do you go at midnight?”
Spade rolled his eyes. “Nothing the likes of you should concern yourself with.”
Sitting up, I crossed my arms. “Well, whatever it is, I hope it hurts extra tonight for you, Spade.”
Waving me off, he stomped out. Riot pulled something from his dresser and tossed it on the bed. “Yours.”
Confusion furrowed my brow until I picked it up.
The dark leather called to me and ignited my senses. The mystery grimoire.
“Thank you.”
“Can’t let a lady be without her empty diary. Or will you fill the blank book with hexes to use against us?”
“That’s the goal.”
Riot snorted a laugh. “Your backpack with your belongings is in your room as well.” He lingered a moment by the bed, as if he wanted to…“ Alright then. Goodnight.”
“Good night indeed,” I muttered to myself, flipping through the grimoire. Perhaps physical closeness with Riot had already served some small purpose in, at the least, getting him to give me back my grimoire. Would he have handed it over so willingly if I hadn’t stayed in his bed?
It didn’t matter… especially as I flipped the pages, and in the dim, flickering light… inky script rose to the top of a blank page reading:
A Hex to Compel a Foolish Man