31. Clash of Stone and Steel
Clash of Stone and Steel
Talyn
Talyn could barely hear over the din in her head as blood thundered through her veins. She was breathing hard, but not from exertion.
She stared at the back of Samhail’s head where he knelt before her, the swords she’d stolen from him pressed against the front of his throat, and she willed herself to just pull them across and slice his neck open. She finally had the upper hand. She could end this now and be free of him.
She’d been trying to keep her body as limp as possible for the last several minutes so Samhail didn’t realize the feeling was coming back into her limbs.
Part of her couldn’t believe the ploy had worked, but she’d seen her advantage when he admitted he’d never bitten anyone before and didn’t know how long his toxin worked.
She’d almost given herself away when he’d pulled her against him.
The first time, her body had nearly reacted instinctively to his hand on her throat.
It had taken every ounce of her self-control not to fight back or port.
Then she’d felt his breath in her ear and his lips against her cheek, and she was almost certain he’d felt her tremble.
She was sure he must’ve suspected something when he pulled her back against his cock, and she’d felt that hard length of him.
She managed to stay perfectly still, although her traitorous body had instantly gone wet between her legs.
She was afraid he might be able to smell her arousal, but apparently not.
One of Talyn’s hands twitched now, and Samhail flinched as the blade bit into his skin.
Nemesis take her. There was no going back now. If she didn’t kill him, he’d most definitely kill her. She had to do this.
Talyn felt the tremor in her hands start to work its way up her arms. She’d promised him a quick, clean death, but if she didn’t stop shaking, the swords would tear his skin to shreds before she managed to end him. There’d be nothing quick or clean about it.
The tremor reached her chest, and Talyn tried again to make herself pull the blades across his throat, but her arms refused to obey the command. All it would take was two easy strokes, and she’d be free.
Not even two, just one. If she could manage to move just one of the blades, she’d never have to look over her shoulder again.
Well, that wasn’t completely true. If she killed Samhail, the Lord and Lady of Hiraeth would hunt her to the ends of the world, but that wasn’t something she’d worry about now. Her more immediate concern was taking care of Samhail and getting back to Rowe.
Talyn’s hands twitched again, and Samhail took in a sharp breath.
She needed to do this now. It was kinder to do it quicker rather than nick his throat with a thousand tiny cuts.
Talyn closed her eyes, and the muscles in her arms clenched tightly as she promised herself she’d do it. She held her breath and…
“Fuck!” she screamed and pulled the swords from his throat.
She staggered backward away from him as her breath came in ragged gasps. Her arms shook violently, and she could barely hold the blades, which now felt like lead in her hands.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t fucking kill him, and it was likely to be the last mistake she ever made. It was a simple action she’d done hundreds of times before, yet she was powerless to do it this time. What was wrong with her?
Movement drew her eyes, and Talyn looked up to see Samhail standing before her. Two thin red lines on his neck trickled blood.
Talyn huffed a wry laugh and turned the swords over to hand them to him, handles first. She’d signed her own death warrant.
“I just hope you’re better at making it quick and clean than I was,” she said, smiling sadly. “I won’t kneel, so just do it. There are rewards for proof of my death around the continent if you care to claim them.”
Samhail reached forward slowly and took the swords from her.
She was still breathing hard, and there was a vibration in her chest she couldn’t quell.
She closed her eyes and lowered her head, instinctively shielding her neck as she waited for the blow.
She wished she had the courage to bare her throat to him and let him do it, but her last few threads of self-preservation won out.
She felt the tip of the cold steel under her chin, and she tensed as she waited for Samhail to push the blade through her neck. She sucked in a breath as the sword pressed upward instead, tipping her head back so she had to look up at him.
Nemesis take the man. He was savoring this, wasn’t he. He was going to draw out her death, lord his victory over her.
To hells with that.
Talyn opened her eyes, intent on staring him down and letting him see every ounce of her defiance.
She expected to see a cruel grin on his face as he reveled in her defeat, but she started in surprise at what she saw.
The intensity in his eyes stole her breath, and she shuddered at the seriousness of his expression.
Her legs almost gave out as dread trickled through every limb. He wasn’t going to kill her. He was going to do something much worse. Torture her? Take her to Revenmyer?
Despite her determination not to flinch, Talyn jerked back when Samhail pulled the blade away from her throat and thrust the two swords into the ground. He surged toward her, and her eyes widened in alarm as she stepped back, bracing for whatever he meant to do.
She waited to feel his fists slam into her. With his strength, he could break her bones into pieces with little effort. Or perhaps she’d feel the unyielding pressure of his hands on her throat again, cutting off her breath until her life faded away.
Talyn made a strangled sound of surprise as Samhail’s lips instead collided with hers, and his tongue pressed into her mouth for a searing kiss.
He snaked an arm around her waist and dragged her against him while his other hand threaded through her hair to hold her in place.
His mouth was ravenous as it moved over hers, and she could do nothing but stand there in shock as she struggled to think beyond the relief and sensual heat that now pulsed through her.
Samhail kissed like he fought. Relentlessly. Unmercifully. Passionately. Her lips would be swollen again like last time when he was done with her, but she found she didn’t give a fucking damn.
Talyn’s body finally unfroze enough to respond in kind.
She grabbed for his chest, but her fingers scraped against his leather armor, and she had to settle for gripping the heavy fabric of his sleeves.
Her tongue met his stroke for stroke as she let her body pour its tension out in the kiss.
Samhail drank her in, and a moan escaped her as a new kind of tremor shuddered through her.
He answered with a groan of his own as he pulled her closer.
Talyn could barely wrap her mind around what was happening. She’d gone from nervousness, to elation, to panic, to fear, to…whatever this was, all in the span of about a minute, and her senses had yet to catch up.
She remembered wanting to feel Samhail’s arms around her when she’d come to him as Cyra, but she hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed to feel his embrace. That she looked like herself now seemed all the sweeter, and she tried to absorb his touch so she could remember what it felt like later.
This was why she couldn’t kill him. She wanted him.
He still made her want to scream sometimes with his arrogance and high-handedness, but if anything, it only made her want him more.
She’d never met a man who could dominate her body the way he could, not just with his strength, but with his sensuousness and ardor.
She’d never wanted to give in to a man the way Samhail made her want to give in to him.
Every part of her had surrendered to him completely the moment his lips touched hers.
Talyn let out a cry as the world suddenly went sideways, and she found herself on the ground under Samhail.
His mouth was on hers again a second later, and her mind wavered somewhere between panic and rapture.
Samhail’s body was massive and powerful, and the assassin in her balked at being trapped beneath him like this.
The way he caged her body in set off warning bells in her head.
Paradoxically, another part of her enjoyed the feel of having him on top of her, a part of her that saw his body not as a cage, but as a shield. Her head was too muddled right now to decide which was more likely, or perhaps they were both equally likely. She only knew this was dangerous.
There was always danger in Talyn’s life, but it never seemed more present than right now with Samhail’s mouth on hers and his body pressing her to the ground. This was a different kind of danger altogether, the kind where she’d let him do absolutely anything he wanted to her.
As if sensing her thoughts, Samhail began to tug up her sweater, and with an effort of will, she pulled her mouth away from his.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, trying to press firmly against his chest, but not quite succeeding as much as she’d hoped.
Samhail pulled back to look at her. “Kissing you,” he said before his mouth dipped back down to tease a path along her neck.
Talyn closed her eyes again and suppressed a moan as every nerve he hit ignited another one somewhere else in her body.
“What are you doing with your hands?” she clarified.
His hand found the hem of her sweater and slipped up it, but she laid her own over his to hold it still. Samhail raised his head again.
“I thought that was pretty self-explanatory,” he said, “but if you need me to spell it out, I’m trying to get to your breasts. I desperately need to have one of them in my mouth so I can run my tongue over your nipples and then suck-”
“I understand what you’re trying to do,” she cut in before he could finish the thought. “What I don’t understand is what’s happening here.”