Chapter 10 Evander #2
The Shroud pulses. The colors have leached away, leaving only faded hues that are shot through with veins of necrotic black. Beyond the fraying weave, Vartena peeks through, the mortal realm little more than a heat haze.
I smell the stagnation and slow rot.
“This damage. Was it from—”
“From the Devaliant’s cult members?” Alexios’ lip peels back from his teeth. “Yes.”
He extends a hand and crooks his fingers, and the blood seems to sing in answer. It lifts from the fabric in ribbons, curling through the air as it pools above his upturned palm. The droplets dance, strung together by threads of power.
With a percussive snap of magic, Alexios flings his arm out in a sweeping arc.
The blood streaks toward the Shroud in a glimmering spray.
The veil ripples where it strikes, crimson tearing through the rot.
Devouring. Cleansing. Slowly, new wards flicker to life in glittering veins of ruby and obsidian.
It’s a temporary measure—a scab over a festering wound. But it buys us time.
Alexios’ magic fades. He sways on his feet, a tremor running through him. Even an Eternal has limits.
“You’re burning too hot,” I murmur. “You need rest. If you keep pouring yourself into the Shroud at this rate—”
He gives a mirthless laugh. “I need a bottle of Black Ember and a good hard fuck, not necessarily in that order. But this barrier isn’t going to maintain itself.”
He turns to me, the dying light throwing the harsh planes of his face into stark relief. Deep bruises smudge the skin beneath his eyes, and I’m struck by how exhausted he looks. Less the untouchable god-king and more the battle-weary soldier.
“I’m at the end of my patience with mortals.
” His words are flat, emotionless, and that’s when he’s at his most unpredictable.
His most dangerous. “The Vartenans are complacent, and I can’t keep spreading tithes thin over the Shroud whenever some little princess distracts the idiots on the other side.
If those sheep can’t manage themselves, and the Accords prevent me from interfering in their rule, then they need reminders of their place. ”
“You want me to make an example of the oathbreakers?”
“Brutality is an art in times like these. No more half measures, no more clean kills for traitors and oathbreakers. When the masses grow lazy, it’s our duty to deliver a lesson.”
I incline my head. “Any other orders?”
Alexios goes motionless in the way of a predator poised to lunge. Slowly, deliberately, he leans in until his lips hover above mine and I can taste the spice of his breath.
“One more thing,” he says, lethally soft. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten or forgiven you for ignoring a direct command.”
I lift my stare to meet his. “Disobedience is part of my charm.”
“You’re right,” he murmurs. “Insolence is one of your more attractive qualities. I’ve always enjoyed how this mouth gets you into trouble.”
Alexios pushes his lips against mine, kissing me deep and filthy.
There’s no tenderness in it. No real affection or desire.
With the God of Storms, everything is about control.
About the dizzying, destructive push-pull of power—who wields it and who bends to its whims. He’s not kissing me because he wants to.
He’s kissing me because he likes to fuck with my head.
Alexios breaks the kiss to run his lips over my jaw. “But I can’t help but wonder…” His tongue laves along my neck before his teeth clamp down punishingly hard. I swallow a hiss. “If you didn’t kill the princess as I ordered, what exactly did you do?”
“Played with her. Let her get a taste of my blade.”
“Mm. What was she wearing? Paint me a picture.”
Unbidden, the memory of the princess surges to the surface. Perched astride my hips in nothing but that bloodstained nightgown. Luminous skin and tousled hair and eyes bright with murderous intent. For a few minutes, I let myself forget all the reasons I should hate her.
“White silk,” I rasp out. “Hardly covered all the interesting bits. It looked even better soaked through red.”
He growls, a burst of breath shuddering against me, and his hands dig into my shoulders, demanding. Asserting his claim even as he makes me recount how I defied him. Still fucking with me.
“Tell me about your game.” He grazes his teeth down my neck, ending the movement in a kiss. “What did you play?”
I know what he’s doing; he’s reminding me that I let a Devaliant walk away. That I had my knife against her heart and chose entertainment over duty. He’s playing with me the way I played with her.
But I’m not a pretty little Anchor on your altar.
“A game where she cuts me open,” I say roughly. I tip my head back, baring more of my throat to his mouth. A silent fuck you. “And I take her measure. Decide if she’s amusing enough to keep around for another night before finishing the job.”
“Was she?” he asks, kissing along my collarbone. “Amusing?”
“Vicious. Spitting mad. The kind of girl who goes straight for the throat and shakes until something snaps. Prettiest damn thing I’ve seen in centuries.”
Intended to provoke. To irritate.
His lips skim the shell of my ear. “Did you beg her to hurt you a little deeper?”
And a little harder.
“I enjoy seeing how violence brings out the beast in sweet things. I decided she deserved an encore performance before her final bow.”
For a few moments, cradled between my body and the blade, the princess had burned incandescent. She’d wanted to make someone—anyone—choke on her agony. A girl like that, with a mouth made for sin and a heart like a black hole…
I’d wanted to see how far she went until she broke.
Alexios chuckles and presses his lips hard to mine again, whispering, “I hope your little indulgence was worth it.”
Then his power lashes and clamps tightly around my throat. Crushing. Choking. Dark spots swarm my vision, my lungs burn, and my senses dull until the roaring tide of my pulse drowns out all else.
“I warned you that if you disappointed me again, I’d remind you what happens when my leash becomes a noose.” He skims his thumb over my cheekbone. “Disobedient subordinates get put down. And liars? Liars get their tongues ripped out.”
His grip tightens as he forces my head back. His other hand digs between my lips and pries my jaw wide. Then he pins my tongue between his fingers.
And draws his dagger.
I feel the sharp edge of the Turpori steel, the blooming sting as he cuts off my tongue. I taste metal and blood as it gushes over my chin. The pain is distant, drowned out by the thunder of my heartbeat and the throbbing pressure of the king’s power.
He shoves my severed tongue down my throat and slaps his palm over my mouth.
“Swallow it,” he hisses against my cheek.
Fuck you.
I glare up at him even as black spots crowd my vision, my bones creaking beneath the crush of his will.
“Swallow. It.”
Alexios’ collar keeps my strength leashed to half what it is naturally—without it, we’d be equals. One day, I’ll sever it. And when I do, it’s not bones I’ll settle for breaking. It’s the base of his fucking spine.
But today isn’t that day.
So I swallow.
Alexios releases me, and I crumple to my knees.
“By the time that tongue grows back,” he says coldly, “I hope you’ll learn to use it more wisely. I’d hate to take your wings next.”