Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
IVRAEL
I t took every ounce of willpower I had to leave Lara in the kitchen that night instead of carrying her to my chambers. But if I did, I feared I would never be able to let her go again.
Wouldn’t be able to do what was necessary when the time came.
So instead, I entered my rooms alone, slammed into my private study, dropped my hands to the back of my chair, and heaved out an enormous gust of breath as if I could blow out all my frustration at once.
When that didn’t work, I dropped into the chair and ran my hands through my hair as I considered the events in the graveyard.
The iron gate should have stopped me. Any pure Caix would have been writhing in agony at the mere proximity of so much refined metal. But my blood, I assumed—combined with the power of my father’s sword—had allowed me to push through, though every step had felt like walking through fire.
I’d watched Lara stumble away from another undead Caix, her movements unnaturally quick for a human. She shouldn’t have been able to avoid them so easily. Shouldn’t have been able to survive their touch at all.
But , I thought, her blood protected her, too, even if she doesn’t realize it yet .
“Please,” I’d silently begged whatever gods might listen. “Let her power manifest. Show me I haven’t made a terrible mistake.”
But she’d remained stubbornly, impossibly human.
At least on the surface.
Though as I’d watched her break free from another corpse’s grasp—using strength no human should possess—I’d wondered if perhaps her heritage was closer to awakening than I thought.
As I’d moved into the cemetery, I’d drawn Starflash, the sword my father had left to me, from its sheath, the blade humming in recognition. The sword had always known what I was, just as it would recognize what Lara truly was—if her powers would only awaken.
Perhaps the crown she’d unwittingly tracked there could serve as a catalyst for both sisters’ powers.
If only I could retrieve it without Lara seeing.
Starflash glowed with an internal power—the kind technology could never replicate. I began using it to drop the undead.
Once Lara untangled herself from the grip of the King and ran several steps, I stepped up and spun around so I stood between them, then maneuvered it so my back was to her.
Lara wasn’t watching when I snatched the Starfire Crown from his head and shoved it inside my coat, then leaped back into the fray.
Now, in my bedchamber, the crown’s blue gem pulsed once against my chest, just as it had in the graveyard, as if acknowledging I would soon feed its power. I withdrew it from inside my coat, turning it around and around in my hands, examining the gold and silver metal twisted to form a circlet, the gemstones set in its points, the blue stone throbbing in the center, its light an eerie match to Starflash.
In the cemetery, I had forced myself to turn away from what the crown’s presence meant—both for my plans and for Lara’s fate—and attempted to focus on the immediate danger threatening her .
But instead, the moonlight had reflected off the snow in that moment, catching the curve of Lara’s cheek and highlighting it in a shade of pale with a light dusting of ginger freckles across it. Desire had tightened my throat, and I’d tried to swallow it down.
As I’d swept her into my arms to carry her to my horse, every cell of my body responded to her, sending a throbbing ache of need down into my bones, suffusing every part of my being. For an instant, I froze.
She’d curled herself into me, her forehead resting against my chest. My cock pulsated in response, aching and hard, and I shifted to keep her from feeling it.
Do not give her anything she can use against you , I reminded myself.
Her hair came loose from the strip of fabric she used to tie it back, and the strands brushed across my face, bringing the scent of her with them. My mouth dried, and I couldn’t speak. Not that I knew what I would have said anyway. I had set her up for this, practically dared her to try to run, even though she had no idea where she was or how to get home.
My cock jerked, the tip brushing against her through my breeches. She went still in my arms, like an animal freezing to hide from a predator it didn’t realize already had it in its grasp. And that predator inside me wanted to devour her, to take her and make her mine, hold her down, impale her, sheathe myself in her.
For a heartbeat, we both stood unmoving, trembling as the power of possibilities swirled around us, enveloping us, moving between us and into us until it heated the air around us, until our breath moved back and forth between our lungs, hot with the knowledge of what could be.
Was this it? Was this what her power felt like? How it would manifest?
I had expected it to explode into the air, snapping like a silk flag unfurling, like wings shaking out, like an object hurled into the air and then boomeranging back.
We stood there in perfect anticipation, waiting.
But nothing happened.
And after a moment, Lara shook her head, as if bringing herself out of some kind of spell.
Pulling my glove off of one hand and tucking it into my breeches pocket, I brushed my thumb across her lip, wiping away a single speck of dirt that had flown up into her face during the fight.
Her skin was soft, supple, pliant. I merely touched it and pulled my hand away.
Her tongue, small and pink, darted out to swipe over where I had just touched. And then she caught the lip between her teeth.
I bit back a groan and shifted to keep her from seeing my reaction. I didn’t want her to know how much she affected me.
And then I kissed her. Every part of me ached and strained toward her, quivering with the need to bring any one of those possibilities to life.
As the kiss ended, I realized her blood called to me, even diluted by her human heritage. The scratches on her arms and face glistened with an otherworldly sheen no pure human’s blood would possess. I’ve seen enough human servants injured to know the difference.
The undead had been drawn to her—more strongly than they should have been to any human. Yet she survived their touch. Their hands on her skin should have drained her life force instantly, leaving her a withered husk. Instead, she fought. She lived .
I pulled her closer, inhaling deeply. Beneath the earthiness of the graveyard and the sharp tang of fear, her scent carried those traces of sweetness—those hints of snowfly honey and crushed starblossoms.
The exact scent that drew me to track down her bloodline in the first place.
I shouldn’t have noticed these things. Shouldn’t have cataloged the ways she was different. It would only make my task harder.
But as she’d leaned trustingly against my chest, I couldn’t help but breathe her in again as I wondered if I could truly ever prepare to sacrifice her—sacrifice what she could become—to save my world.
Yes, I told myself now.
If I could leave her in the kitchen tonight, I could walk away from her entirely .
I could do what needed to be done. My plan was working—Lara’s blood had called the King of the Dead from his tomb. The fact that I now held the legendary Starfire Crown was all the proof I needed of her ancestry, her powers.
I was right about who she was. What she could do.
And when the time comes, I will be able to sacrifice her.
As I stood and moved to the cabinet to hide the crown I had used Lara to retrieve, I shoved down the part of me that kept whispering its rebuttal into my ear.
You’ll never be able to bring yourself to harm her.
D espite any potential misgivings about my overall plans, I was absolutely certain I could not allow Lara to believe she’d gotten away with trying to flee Starfrost Manor, even though she had followed the exact plan I’d expected her to.
Even though she was the reason I now had in my possession the mystical crown that would allow me to take the Icecaix throne.
I still had to discipline her. But there were several problems with my decision to mete out a fitting punishment.
For one thing, if I tried to punish her behavior privately, I had no doubt where it would lead. I wanted her far too much. If I had her anywhere near my bedchamber—or in my sitting room, or even my study or library, anywhere I could shut a door on the rest of the world—I would be more intent on pleasure than punishment.
And that would not impart quite the lesson I had in mind.
No—this punishment could not lead to anything other than pure humiliation.
And so the day after I’d secured the Starfire Crown, I called the staff into the servants’ dining room. I’d already had Khrint push the long wooden table against the far wall and pull the bench the servants used for seating up to the front of the room.
As they all filed in, I directed the staff to line up alongside one wall.
“I’ve gathered you all here today to discuss a problem,” I announced.
The household servants glanced anxiously at one another, obviously wondering which minor infraction I’d learned of—but for the most part, I long ago learned to ignore the small things, believing that leniency garners more loyalty than a high hand.
Too bad there was nothing small about Lara’s decision to run.
“Lara Evans,” I called out, keeping my voice strong and harsh. “Please step forward.”
All the blood drained from her face, leaving her as pale as an Icecaix.
I could see the memory flash through her eyes of the hanging I’d had to conduct after her first night here.
I was careful not to soften my stance in any way. Better she be afraid now than dead later—or rather, dead before her sacrifice could bear fruit.
The thought that no matter what I did, she would die within the year, settled in my gut like a lump of poisonous iron.
“Yesterday, this kitchen drudge attempted to flee service.” I let my gaze drift around the room, meeting each servant’s gaze. “After due consideration, including taking into account her Earth origins and her relative newness to service, her sentence is as follows.”
Khrint stepped toward me again.
I held out my hand, and Khrint dropped my riding crop into it. “Twenty lashes with a crop.”
Lara gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth. “No,” she said, glancing around as if expecting help from her fellow servants. “You can’t be serious. You kidnapped me and then you don’t expect me to try to get away? Fuck that.”
I ignored her words, turning toward the two footmen Khrint had tapped to aid in the punishment. “Please restrain her.”
They stepped up and each took one of Lara’s arms. She began thrashing, but Khrint wrapped a rope around her ankles.
“Bare or clothed?” Khrint asked .
I clenched my teeth against the surge of heat that flashed through me at the thought. “Clothed,” I gritted out.
But as she stared at me in outrage, I directed my next words to her. “But know that if you insist on continued disobedience, the punishments will only increase from here.”
She closed her mouth tightly, clamping her lips down on whatever she had been about to say.
I nodded at the footmen, and Khrint pushed her to her knees.
Her golden-red hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face. Without thinking, I reached down to sweep it back, my fingers brushing her neck. She shivered, though whether from fear or something else, I couldn’t say.
The footmen bent her over the bench seat. Stretching her arms out in front of her, they ran a second length of rope between the one binding her wrists and then secured her hands to the legs of the bench. She struggled against them the whole time—I expected nothing less—and the bench scraped across the room’s dark wood floor, sending up a screeching echo.
I watched her strain against the bonds, her clothing pulling taut across her back, and my mouth went dry at the sight. Every curve of her body was highlighted by the position, making it impossible to ignore how perfectly she would fit against me. Those curves begged for my touch as I circled her like a predator stalking prey. When I placed my hand between her shoulder blades, I could feel her heart racing beneath my palm, her rapid breathing matching my thundering pulse. Her warmth burned through the fabric, branding my skin.
“Count,” I commanded, my voice emerging as a guttural rasp that betrayed far too much of my need.
I brought the crop down in a precise arc, savoring the sharp crack as leather met flesh and the impact shuddered up my arm, echoing through my entire body. Her flesh yielded beneath the strike, and she jerked against my restraining hand. The small sound that escaped her sent heat pooling low in my gut. When she remained silent, my cock hardened painfully against my breeches.
I slashed the crop down again, harder this time, struggling to keep my hand steady. “One.”
Still nothing. I snapped the leather against the curve of her ass, watching the fabric indent with the strike, and I had to bite back a groan at how she arched into it. “One.”
“That was three,” she spat, her voice deliciously hoarse with anger and something darker.
I tightened my grip on the crop. I could barely force the words past my tight throat. “Not until you begin counting.”
“One,” she ground out, and I had to fight the urge to drop the crop and claim her right there.
I methodically delivered each strike, watching sweat bead along her hairline by the fifth blow. By the tenth, I felt her trembling beneath my palm, her skin burning against mine. I pressed my hand more firmly against her back, telling myself I needed to hold her still, but craving every point of contact between us.
I wanted her with an intensity that terrified me. Each time I brought down the crop, I came closer to losing control, to abandoning all my careful plans and taking what my body screamed was mine. The need to possess her warred with my determination to keep her unmarked—at least until the moment I would have to end her life.
When she finally gasped out the last number, I struggled to control my ragged breathing. I forced myself to step back, gripping the crop until my knuckles whitened, using the pain to ground myself. To remember why I couldn’t give in to the hunger consuming me from the inside out.
“Remember,” I addressed the assembled servants, hoping none could hear the strain in my voice, “Starfrost expects loyalty and obedience at all times.”
Only after they had filed out did I gesture for the footmen to untie Lara. As they helped her to her feet, her eyes met mine. The defiance there was unchanged, but now it was mixed with something else—something that made my blood run hot despite the ice in my veins.
“You son of a bitch,” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “You enjoyed that. ”
I couldn’t deny it, so I didn’t even try. “And under other circumstances, you would’ve enjoyed it, as well,” I promised, my voice low.
“I won’t forget this.”
I nodded. “See that you don’t.”
With a final glare, she limped away, leaving me alone with the echoes of leather on flesh and three painfully stark truths:
I want her.
I will kill her.
And knowing both these things won’t stop either from happening.