Chapter 38
Islam into a jagged ledge of rock, and pain rips through my back. Then I’m spinning through the air again until I bounce off another rocky ledge. If I didn’t have the armor on, I’d probably be dead by now.
For a moment, I just want to give in to the fall and accept my fate.
But Vero’s face burns in my thoughts—my little sister when she was eight, the way she’d sleep with both arms wrapped around a pillow.
A sharp hunger for the grail erupts in my chest.
I need to live.
Desperately, I reach out, grasping for the briars that grow from the rocks. They slip past my fingers, one after another. I brush against the side of a rock as I fall, scraping my limbs. Another craggy outcrop slams into my thigh, and a splintering pain rips through me.
And yet, the impact slows me enough that I finally manage to snag a briar sprouting from the cliffside. I clutch it with one hand, then the other, and the thorns pierce my fingers.
Pain racks my entire body, but I focus only on a single thing—clinging to this thicket, even as it draws blood from me.
I steal a glance down. Through the fog, I can see that the slope gets slightly gentler from here—but only slightly.
It’s gone from about a ninety-degree angle to seventy.
I can’t exactly walk down, and my body feels half shattered, anyway.
My ribs are cracked. I think my leg is broken in several places. I don’t think I can walk.
I grunt, clinging to the plants for dear life. Tears sting my eyes. Tristan is going to be so fucking furious with me if I die here.
Pain is shooting through one of my lungs. I can’t breathe. I think the lung has collapsed, and every breath is agony.
Pebbles bounce and fall down the cliff, and time slows.
The plant I’m clutching starts to tear from the rocky surface, no longer supporting my weight.
Frantically, I search for a finger hold in the rock. There, one foot above me—
I miss it. My fingers slip, and I start sliding down again, too fast to grasp anything. My limbs drag painfully down the slope until I plunge into ice-cold water. The currents rush over me, pulling my broken body under the surface.
I scramble upward, but one of my legs isn’t working properly, and agony is ripping my body apart. Even if I weren’t shattered, the weight of the armor and my sword are pulling me under.
The cold pierces me down to my marrow, and I can’t breathe. I can’t move.
As I drift under the water, a buried memory surfaces.
I lie in a bed, and I trace my fingertips over little roses carved and painted above my bed by someone who loved me.
* * *
When I wake, I’m coughing up icy water. As I gasp for breath, I feel like shards of glass are ripping through my lungs.
Every inch of my body—each nerve and bone—feels ripped to shreds. I can’t stop shaking. I’m not quite sure if I’m alive or dead.
But surely, if I were dead, it would hurt less.
I think I’m lying on mossy ground.
Above me, sunlight tinges the mist with amber, turning the world hazy. I try to focus on that, to mentally detach from my broken body. Then I see his face above me—Rion’s silver eyes, his golden tattoos that trace over perfect features, like sunlight kissing his skin, even in the mist.
Despite everything I know about him, I am certain that for this moment, I’m safe. He might be a monster, but he’s my ally. For now.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
My body shakes as he unhooks the dragon-scale armor, moving down the front of my chest. The scales scrape softly, plate shifting against my body. My wet clothes cling to me, and the cold air bites at my skin.
My teeth chatter, and I close my eyes again, trying to let my mind drift.
When I breathe in, pain screams through my chest until Rion slides his hand under my shirt and his warm magic starts to radiate over my body.
Gently, he cradles my lower ribs. Heat pours from his palm, seeping into my bruised flesh and broken bones.
His hand moves slowly along my side. I gasp at the sensation of his touch on my skin, like molten honey sliding through my body. As I close my eyes, I inhale slowly. His magic is spring thawing the hard frost of pain.
Now, as I fill my lungs, each breath feels like a gift. Warmth licks along my skin, and his magic kisses my chest.
He’s leaning closer to me, studying my face, and my eyes lock on his as he heals me.
My pulse races faster. I realize his hair is soaking wet, just like mine, and the water makes his eyelashes cluster into dark peaks.
His face moves nearer, and my eyes trace droplets of water dappling his golden skin.
My gaze slides down to his sensual mouth, slightly parted.
My blood heats. When he uses his magic, he’s mesmerizing.
This close, I see the way the silver in his eyes bleeds into a frosty blue. But the most surprising thing about them is a buried pain beneath that ice.
“Breathe slowly.” His rich, velvet murmur makes my lips part.
Desire slides into my belly. The gold on his cheekbones seems to burn brighter, like it’s responding to me. I try to keep reminding myself that this is just his magic.
He’s my enemy, and I’m going to kill him someday.
I can breathe easily now, and his hand moves down to my broken thigh. Desire cascades through my body. Under my shirt, my nipples tighten into peaks.
His fingers move over my bare skin, where the leather has ripped away, and pleasure radiates out from the point of contact.
Hardly aware that I’m doing it, I grip his shirt and pull him closer to me. Our breath mingles, and his lips are only inches from mine. His beauty is overwhelming.
Staring at him, I inhale the scent of smoldering cedar embers.
I lick my lips, and my eyes flick down to his mouth.
As his pupils dilate, the silver darkens into iron blue.
Lazily, his thumb strokes up and down, gliding higher toward the apex of my thighs.
What a wicked, dangerous sort of magic he possesses.
Languidly, his fingers skim over the surface of my inner thigh.
Gods, it’s like my dreams where he pins me against a tree.
It’s wrong, I know. Even in my dreams, I know he’s a monster, and I still want to taste the salt of his skin. I want to rake my fingernails down his back, leaving my mark.
But those are the dreams I try not to think about, because what if it means I’m as broken and brutal as he is?
Gods, I need to stop this. I clench my teeth.
“I think I’m healed,” I finally manage.
I’m still clutching his shirt like it’s the brambles I needed to keep myself alive. I think Rion’s thorns would cut deeper.
Heat from his body washes over me, and I have the strongest impulse to lick the water droplets off his throat.
“Are you going to release me?” he whispers.
Now, I can see his faint, sly smile—
I loosen my grip on his shirt, and he sits next to me on the mossy earth. Slowly, I sit up again and take in my surroundings. My heart is still racing wildly.
Oaks loom tall above us. We’re on a rocky slope beside the river, on the far side from where we started. But I don’t recognize the landscape anymore.
Water drips down my skin. “What happened?”
“You plunged into the river. I got you out. But not before the current took you about a mile past the cave.”
I turn to stare at him. “How did you find me?”
“The forest speaks to me.”
“Right.” I quirk a smile. “And I’m useful to you.”
His eyes sparkle. “And if you were willing to admit it to yourself, you’d see that I’m useful to you, too. I’ve made you significant to the noble houses, and only I will grant you lands and a title. Without me, love, you’ve got nothing.”
Only then do I catch the movement of the metallic moths sweeping around us and remember that the nobles are watching. Of course, this is all for their benefit—saving me, healing me. I’m sure he looks like a real hero now.
But while Rion wants to impress them, I want the grail in my hands.
“Well, I’m healed now. It’s done.”
His gaze sweeps down, pausing on my breasts. Through my sodden silk shirt, I know he can see my hard nipples, and my cheeks flush.
His gaze darkens, lingering for a beat too long.
“Did the forest tell you where the grail is?” I ask.
He arches a dark eyebrow. “In the cave. Let’s make sure we get there before Mabon, shall we?”
As I stand, I realize I’m still armed with my sword. No wonder I couldn’t swim out of that fucking current. Slowly, I pull on my dragon-scale armor. “Thank you for that.”
He rises and peers down at me with a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You’re welcome, my lover.”
I fasten my armor.
For the benefit of the moths, I smile sweetly up at him. I move closer, touching his cheek in a pantomime of affection. “What happened to Elizabeth? Did she make it?”
“She’ll recover. Aneirin brought her to safety.”
I stand on my tiptoes, my mouth close to his. “Your friend Igraine is a fucking arsehole.”
His powerful, warm body presses against mine, and he studies my face. “She’s a survivor.”
“If she tries to kill my friend again, her surviving days will be over.” I turn away from him. “Let’s go.”
We break into a sprint.
Minutes ago, I was half dead. Now? I feel amazing, and strength pounds through my body. I’m grateful to Rion’s healing powers, even if he only did it for the benefit of the moths. My feet hasten over the mossy stones as I run along the riverside.
But we don’t get far before I hear a howl—a sound that echoes like the screams of a hundred tormented souls.
My blood freezes, and a sharp tendril of dread coils through my chest.