Chapter 15
15
Kiaran
Kameron’s breath is slow and steady, her eyes moving beneath delicate lids as she dreams. I lean against the bedpost, watching the rise and fall of her chest. She’s restless tonight. I can see it in the furrow of her brow, the way she twists the sheets between white-knuckled fingers. Nightmares stalk her sleep.
I move closer, brushing a fiery curl back from her cheek. She leans into my touch, lips parting as if to speak.
“Shh. No nightmares tonight,” I murmur.
I take her hand, allowing myself the barest contact. My thumb grazes her palm, where my mark glows on her skin. Our bond thrums at the touch, resonating through every cell in my being. Soothing her.
Just this once.
Her breathing evens out. The tremor leaves her hands. She sinks deeper into slumber, features relaxing into peace. I pull the coverlet up around her shoulders and rise from her bedside. She won’t stir again until morning.
And I have unfinished business with the two fae who fled earlier. Defiance demands payment in blood. Threats against what’s mine must be answered with ruin.
Outside, the moon lurks behind heavy cloud cover, casting the sleeping city into deeper shadow. Perfect for concealment. Ideal for dealing death. The night welcomes me into her embrace as I keep to the smaller streets and narrow wynds. Edinburgh cradles my steps, ushering me along roads worn smooth by centuries. She shelters me in her secret corners and shadowed closes. I was ancient when her first walls were raised. I will remain long after they are dust.
The Fade whispers at the back of my mind, sending messages. I can’t sense fae in the mortal world like Kameron can. But in the Fade? I know every shadow. Every traitor that tries slithering into its depths, thinking I won’t notice.
I push through the veil and into the Fade’s shimmering splendour. This glittering place I created once felt like a new home. Now, the gilt and finery can’t disguise how hollow it’s become—a poor reflection of the kingdoms it was meant to replace. The truth is, we all died in the fall. All that lingers are ghosts refusing to accept their graves.
I avoid the main thoroughfares, steering clear of the bloodhouses. The streets I prowl are silent, the revelry distant. But the power thrums just beneath the surface, awake and watchful. My business requires more secluded environs tonight.
In my wake, frost creeps like a living thing. Windows shutter closed as I pass, my power rolling ahead in a warning.
Their king is restless.
The Fade guides me to my quarry. She whispers into my blood, into the marrow and sinew. Here. They are here.
This glittering illusion bending like iron beneath my hands, reforged into a weapon.
The gate yields to my touch, the last barrier between me and vengeance. I stalk across the courtyard, a shadow moving through the moonlight. I find a nondescript building with boarded windows and force open the warped wooden door. Rotted floorboards groan beneath my boots as I climb three flights of stairs.
It’s easy to shape the essence of this place, saturating the walls with my power until the shadows come eagerly to my side. This crumbling ruin will serve my desires. Become my torture chamber.
The perfect tomb for two fools who failed to respect my claim and will suffer the consequences.
The hinges creak their protest as I shoulder my way inside the lightless room. The temperature plunges fast. Frost blooms across every surface in delicate fractals, devouring the chamber in glittering ice.
I let it sink into my bones, ice water in my veins.
At my silent command, the shadows come alive, serpents twining eagerly around my fingers. Hungry for the blood I promise them. Eager to rend and tear. To lay waste. I send them into the chamber, sending them to flush out their prey.
The darkness finds its quarry. Bitten-off screams shatter the silence.
The writhing, bucking forms of the two fae slam into the floorboards at my feet—an offering presented on hands and knees. One tries to scramble away, stumbling toward the door with a broken sob. But my power is everywhere, soaked into the very walls. I clench my fist, and the door slams shut, denting the wood in its frame. Shadows pin him down, unmoving, no matter how desperately he thrashes. A specimen on display.
“Going somewhere?” I ask softly.
“Please,” the smaller one wheezes through chattering teeth.
“Please?” I repeat. I let the word roll off my tongue. Taste its shape. Because the only person I like hearing that word from is the reason I’m here. “Are you about to ask for mercy? Is that what you think you deserve?”
I grasp his hair and jerk his head back to bare the vulnerable line of his throat. His pulse flutters beneath my thumb, fragile as moth wings. How easy it would be to end him.
“Let’s review your mistakes, shall we?” I tighten my grip, relishing his pained gasp. “First, you threatened what’s mine. That mark on her hand was a warning and you ignored it. Not a wise decision, as I’m sure you’re realising now. I took it very personally.”
I lean close, breath whispering against his ear, “Second, you failed to flee when given the chance. Such an unfortunate lack of survival instinct.”
My fangs slide free, tracing up the frantic throb of his artery. His pupils blow wide with stark terror, thin rings of colour clinging to the edges.
“Third,” I continue, “you dared to return here, to my territory, after such a grievous insult.” I twist harder, victory singing through my veins at his choked whimper. “That reveals a startling paucity of intellect.”
I release him and turn my attention to the other. Defiance glints in his eyes, though his limbs tremble. Bravado will not save him. Nothing can save him now.
“Arion said this was just the beginning,” he says. Blood and saliva fleck his lips. “He predicted your human pet would weaken you, and he was right.”
I smile without mirth. “Is that what he told you?”
Casually, I stride forward. He thrashes against his shadowy bonds but can’t break free. I lean in close, watching his pupils dilate, nostrils flaring as he sucks in ragged breaths. Prey scenting a predator.
“Look at you now,” I murmur. “Bound and bleeding for my amusement.” I stroke one finger down his straining neck, just above the jugular. Press down. Watch crimson bead up beneath my fingernail.
“Is this weakness?” I snarl, squeezing.
His body spasms, choking on spit and fury and futility. I reward his insolence with a fist across his jaw, snapping his head back against the wood. He slumps, dazed. I seize his throat once more and haul him up by his neck until his feet dangle, scrabbling at open air.
“You mistake indulgence for softness and my mark on her for vulnerability. I could end your insignificant life in an instant.”
To demonstrate, I tighten my hold until his lips go blue, eyes rolling back. I ease off, just shy of crushing his windpipe.
Hoisting him higher, I slam his body down across my knee. His spine breaks with a sickening crack and he howls. My fist drives down, smashing his face into an unrecognisable ruin. I massacre him leisurely, clinically. Precise blows shatter each rib before I cave in his chest cavity beneath my heel. My power surges beneath my skin, ravenous and straining at its tether, demanding more violence. More destruction. I have not indulged it nearly as often as I used to.
Only when he lies in pieces at my feet do I lean down to wrap my hand around his pulsing throat. I lift him easily, displaying my brutal handiwork.
“Mercy would be a blessing now. That would be the softness you foolishly accused me of having. But let me tell you something.” My cold words ghost across his cheek as I crouch beside him. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, mercy is the first thing to die.”
I tear his throat out with my teeth. Hot blood washes over my tongue, copper-bright and singing. I drop the lifeless body to the floor.
The shadows release the other fae, their appetite momentarily sated. He drops to the floor with a groan. Not dead yet, then. Good. I have plans for this one.
Grabbing a hank of hair, I wrench his head up. “Eyes on me,” I snarl.
I lean in until our faces nearly touch. Until all he can see is my wrath. All he can breathe and taste and fearfully comprehend. I whisper, “If you had succeeded in harming her, I’d have burned this fucking city to the ground. Everyone you ever loved or cared for would be corpses at your feet. Every life you touched, snuffed out.” My grip tightens, twisting. “But I’ll make certain you live long enough to regret this breathtaking lapse in judgement. You’ll have ample time later to appreciate why no one threatens what’s mine.”
Reality seems to penetrate the fog of his pain. He spasms in my grip, desperate feral sounds escaping his slack mouth. I smile coldly down at his hopeless thrashing.
“All in good time. For now, sleep .”
I slam his head into the floorboards, fracturing his skull. He goes limp beneath me.
I have plans for him. Plans for what’s left when I’m through. But for now, he’ll keep.
It’s vulgar, feral work I lose myself in. Because cruelty shaped me on the cutter’s wheel, bone-deep.
And I do not forgive.
Mercy left me long ago in the bloodied dust of older, crueller wars. In the shattered oaths of those I once trusted. In the scars Kameron bears.
The hunt eased my fury but could not quench it entirely. That deeper wrath thrums on, seeking an outlet. Seeking Kameron. Desperate for her touch, to spar and fight, to tear and mark, to fuck and claim. Unsated. She is my unfinished business in this life and the next.
I turn on my heel and stalk from the room with my prey in my grip. The door sags on its hinges, blooms of frost fringing the wood. My mark is on this place.
When I leave this bastard’s broken body at the gates of the Fade, everyone will remember who I was before the kingdoms fell. Before everything became ruins.
They’ll all remember why they once feared the dark.