43. Give In & Burn
Give In & Burn
The corridor twisted into darkness as Xül guided me through the labyrinth of Lunadaire.
His hand remained firmly clasped around mine, the heat of his skin a counterpoint to the cool air that whispered around us.
We moved in silence, the sounds of revelry fading with each step until there was only the sound of our footsteps on marble.
Finally, he paused before a door, clasping the handle and pushing it open.
"After you," he murmured.
I hesitated at the threshold, suddenly aware of the uncertainty of what lay beyond. "Xül?—"
"Just to talk," he said, gesturing for me to enter.
My heart threw itself against my ribs, a frantic captive battering its cage. A stupid, reckless captive . Despite my misgivings, curiosity drew me across the threshold.
The door sealed shut behind us with a soft click, and the chamber unfolded before me—mist and moonlight dancing across gilded walls, a massive bed draped in golden silks.
A mirror stretched along one wall, floor to ceiling, framed in twisted pearls that resembled living vines frozen in time.
And a dresser stood beside me, laden with oils and perfumes and other shimmering liquids captured in crystal bottles.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked.
He turned, slipping off his overcoat. "Because I'm tired of pretending,"
My eyes fell on the way his black shirt stretched against the width of his back. "Pretending what?"
"That I don't want you."
Five words. Five simple words that I had craved so badly.
"You just announced your engagement, Xül," I reminded him, the sentence sour on my tongue. "To all of divine society."
"Politics," he said dismissively, unfastening his cufflinks. "Nothing more."
"And this?" I gestured to the space between us, to the chamber that had clearly been designed with one purpose in mind. "What is this, then?"
He stalked toward me, each step reducing the distance between us. He didn't touch me, though every nerve ending in my skin screamed for him to.
"This," he said, his voice dropping to a register that vibrated through my bones, "is the only honest thing in this entire realm."
His scent enveloped me—but it was different from the dark wood and citrus. No this was richer. Like herbs and smoke and honey. It was almost too sweet.
"Do you know what it's like," he murmured, "to want something you shouldn't?"
Yes , I thought. You.
His hand rose, hovering near my face. The absence of his touch was more maddening than any caress could have been.
"Every time you enter a room," he said, his voice dropping lower as he finally touched my throat, "I feel it like a physical force. Every time you speak, I find myself leaning toward your voice like it's the only sound that matters."
His other hand found my waist, his touch tentative at first, then firmer as I didn't pull away. "I've tried to fight it. Tried to bury it."
"And yet here we are," I whispered, my own voice unrecognizable to my ears.
"Here we are," he agreed.
He guided me backward until I could see our reflection in the massive mirror—my eyes wide and dark with desire, my skin flushed, my lips parted. His larger frame engulfed mine.
"Tell me you don't feel it too," he said, his breath warm against my ear. "Tell me you don't lie awake thinking of my hands on your skin, my mouth on yours."
Heat stirred low and deep, unfolding through me. "I can't," I admitted, the truth torn from me. "I can't tell you that."
His fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my head back to meet his gaze directly. "Then stop fighting it," he urged. "Stop pretending this isn't exactly where you're meant to be."
"I’m still mortal, Xül," I reminded him. A last feeble protest. "This is forbidden."
"Not tonight," he said. "Tonight, we can have whatever we want."
"How—"
Both hands cupped my face. "I want you, Thais." His thumbs traced the curve of my cheekbones. "Now."
The admission undid me. I raised my hands to his chest, feeling the solid strength of him beneath the formal attire. The steady rhythm of his heart. "Why are you telling me this?"
"When I saw you with Axel…" His eyes turned savage. "Saw his hands on you, his mouth at your ear. Saw you smile at him the way you smile at me." His fingers tightened in my hair. "I realized I couldn't bear it. Couldn't stand the thought of him—of anyone—touching you."
"You have no right to be jealous," I said, though the knowledge that he was sent a thrill through me .
"None whatsoever," he agreed, his lips curving into a predatory smile. "And yet here I am, burning with it."
His mouth hovered above mine, not quite touching. "Tell me to stop," he challenged, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me to take you back to the ball, and we'll never speak of this again."
I should have. Should have remembered my pride, my purpose, the deadly game of which I was still a part.
Instead, I curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt and whispered, "don't you dare stop."
A growl tore from his throat as he moved, all pretense of restraint shattered.
His hands seized my waist, spinning me so quickly my vision blurred.
The impact of my back against the ornate dresser sent crystal bottles scattering.
Quicksilver abandoned the glasses, racing in molten paths across the marble.
”I’m going to burn you alive, Thais" he growled, his voice scraped raw. "To make up for all the time wasted."
His mouth claimed mine, teeth catching my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang mixed with the taste of him—spearmint and liquor. My body responded with matching savagery, nails raking down his back, tearing at the fine fabric of his shirt until buttons scattered across the floor.
It began as a flicker in my belly, then spread—hot, aching, and utterly consuming. The warmth was more intense than it should have been. Gods, he truly was going to burn me alive. A distant warning drifted through my mind, but the sensation of his hands on my body snuffed it out.
The sound of ripping fabric sliced through the air as his hands fisted in my gown, tearing it from my waist to my feet.
Cool air kissed my exposed skin, a momentary relief from the fever building within me, but his mouth followed immediately, scorching a path along my collarbone that left me gasping.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he demanded, lifting me onto the dresser's edge. His hands forced my thighs apart, claiming the space between them as his territory. "Tell me, Thais. Tell me that little mortal body of yours has been wet for me since I pulled you from that dance."
"Yes," I gasped, beyond pride, beyond pretense. My hands clutched at his shoulders, feeling the coiled power beneath his skin. The heat intensified, beads of sweat forming along my hairline, between my breasts. Too hot.
“Gods–” I whimpered.
His laugh was dark, almost cruel. "I’m right here." His fingers skimmed up my inner thighs, stopping just short of where I ached for him most. "No need to call out."
He dropped to his knees before me. His hands gripped my thighs hard enough to mark, spreading me wider, exposing me completely to his hungry gaze. The mirror caught our reflection—my disheveled form perched on the edge of the dresser, his kneeling before me like a worshiper at an altar of flesh.
"Look," he murmured, breath hot against my most sensitive skin. "Look how badly your body betrays you."
The heat beneath my skin spiked suddenly, painfully. A whimper. Something was wrong. The room was an oven.
Xül didn't seem to notice, his focus entirely on the space between my thighs. "Beg me," he commanded, mouth hovering just above where I wanted him most. "Beg me to taste you."
The inferno raged hotter, my skin prickling with discomfort bordering on pain. I leaned my head back against the cool surface of the mirror, seeking relief from the fire that seemed determined to consume me from within. Was I burning out again?
As my skull met the wall, a breath ghosted across my ear.
" This is an illusion. " The voice was graveled stone and ancient dust. A voice I had heard plenty of times before. On the shore of Draknavor. In the prison. In the clearing.
The voice belonged to the damned. And it only had one master.
" This is the third trial, Thais. Get out of there NOW. "
Ice replaced the fire in my veins, understanding roaring through me. My eyes flew open, gaze instinctively drawn upward—where a shimmering viewing portal hung suspended in the air above us, its edges rippling.
I looked down to find Xül—no, not Xül—staring up at me with anticipation, his mouth poised to claim the most intimate part of me. But his eyes held none of the depth, none of the ancient sorrow that defined the real Warden. They were flat, empty, like painted glass.
Horror crashed through me, followed by understanding. Desire Consumes. Give In And Burn. Not warnings— rules .
Nothing is what it seems.
I scrambled backward, nearly falling from the dresser in my haste to put distance between myself and the thing that wore Xül's face. It reached for me, confusion replacing hunger in those empty eyes.
"Thais?" it questioned, the perfect mimicry of his voice sending fresh shivers down my spine. "What's wrong?"
"You're not real," I said. "None of this is real."
The illusion's lips curved into an evil grin.
"Clever girl," it purred, rising to its feet with unnatural grace. "Most don't realize until they're already on fire."
With a cry that was half rage, half despair, I lunged for the door. My fingers closed around the handle, and for one terrifying moment, I feared it would be locked. But the door swung open, and I burst through it into the corridor beyond, not daring to look back.
And I ran, the remnants of my gown clutched to my chest, the sound of ghostly laughter echoing in my wake.
Thatcher. I had to find Thatcher.