Chapter 24
RYLAND
Ireleased a breath when our boots hit the frozen, muddy bank, when I knew Lyrae was reasonably safe, and the tension in my chest finally stopped crushing my heart like a vise. Even the familiar limey smell of the island was a welcome contrast to the choking atmosphere of Gravespire.
“We need a plan,” Lyrae, already in motion, paced away along the icy shoreline. “We know where the Triune is, but that room…”
“…isn’t just impenetrable,” Varian cut in. “It’s a trap. If we force our way through the ward, we’ll trigger every defense surrounding that temple. Gravelock’s soldiers will be on us before we ever touch one of the artifacts.”
I stared out over the unbroken expanse of ice extending all the way to the mainland, formulating my argument for her never going back to Gravespire. What I really needed to do was put her under lock and key so she couldn’t go anywhere at all, but she’d definitely carve off my balls.
“What we really need is time,” I said. “If Gravespire was left unguarded today, even for a few minutes…” I looked to Varian.
“I could, potentially, get inside that room if I knew what kind of magic I was dealing with,” Varian hedged.
“I’d need time to disarm the ward, of course, or bypass the door altogether without triggering an alarm, gather up the artifacts…
I mean, how much could they possibly weigh? With no guards posted, we could…”
A brisk wind ruffled the hair on the back of my neck, carrying a foul, unnatural odor, reeking like brimstone. “Do you smell that?” My sword hissed out of my sheath. “Grimbeasts?”
“Too foul,” Varian whispered, scanning the desolate island, the ice, the sheer walls of the castle as we ducked down behind a pile of tumbled rocks. “This is something else.”
“Look. There.” Lyrae crouched lower, pointing at the wide-open doors to the castle, the muddy track leading inside. Twenty sets of boots, maybe more. A dagger appeared in her hand from out of nowhere. “I’m going in, getting a better look.”
Without a backward glance—or permission—she stalked away.
“You are not,” I hissed, lunging forward, intent on dragging her back, but she was too damn fast, slipping between my fingers like smoke. Then we were sidling along the castle’s wall, until we reached those flung-open doors.
“Don’t you dare go in there, Lyrae. It’s too dangerous.”
“Both of you stay here. I’ll go see what Rooke’s doing. Back in a minute.” Varian hissed, then vanished.
“Since when do you tell me what I can or cannot do, Ryland Storme?” Lyrae hissed, poking me in the sternum with her blade. Hard. “Since when does Varian’s life mean less than mine?”
“Since right the fuck now,” I grit out, going toe to toe with her. “Since we’ve already lost you once and the thought of losing you again…” I cut myself off before I sounded stark raving mad. “It’s too dangerous,” I repeated stubbornly.
For a moment she considered me, head tipped to the side, that long, black braid draped over one shoulder, the wind picking strand after strand of black hair free.
Out here, with the pale gray sky overhead, her eyes turned the color of ice chips, a pale blue, cold enough to freeze, rimmed by thick, black lashes.
“Did you know I was on the dais when Raziel killed the Shadow King?” She stepped closer, tipping her chin up to hold my stare, one hand winding into my shirt, twisting the fabric tight around her fist.
Shoving me back against the wall. Hard.
“Do you even know who the Oracle was, Ryland? She wasn’t some ancient spider, addicted to power. She was one of the Old Gods.” I swallowed down my horror and she nodded, as if pleased.
“That’s right. You and me and Var were marked by one of those monsters before Anaria killed them.
So if you think, for one minute, I’m afraid of going in there”—like the weapon was an extension of her arm, she used the knife to point toward the door—“and face whatever’s waiting for us… you don’t know me at all.”
Her lips crashed hard into mine, stealing every thought in my head, swallowing the growl rising in my throat. One hand went around her throat, circling that delicate column as I fucking feasted on this female whose taste had been my own personal wet dream for too long.
And this…
This is fucking heaven.
The press of her lips on mine was the balm to my starvation, every sweep of her tongue was the answer to my prayers.
I devoured every carnal detail of this moment, the desperate little pants exploding between her lips, the way her hardened nipples scraped through my shirt, her fingers tearing open my waistband, nails scratching skin before slipping between my legs and cupping my balls, wrapping cold, clever fingers around me with a dark laugh.
Then my brain stopped working altogether as her teeth closed on my bottom lip, tugging painfully as she slowly withdrew, challenge in her eyes.
“That’s for caring enough to try to stop me, not that you would have succeeded.
” She ran her hand up my cock, one rough, claiming stroke that had me groaning.
She ran her thumb through the bead of precum, my balls tightening as my whole body surged toward her demanding touch.
“And that’s just a taste, Ryland. I’m done dancing around. The first chance I get, I want you inside me. I want…”
“I know why we didn’t run into any guards at Gravespire.” Thank the gods, Varian’s voice preceded him as he reappeared, gasping and bent over, hands braced on his knees as he caught his breath. We burst apart, rearranging clothes, my cock throbbing.
We used to be faster at this, I thought, catching her eye with a grin.
Out of practice, she seemed to say back, tucking her braid down the back of her coat.
“Gravelock’s here, with a full contingent of his soldiers, which is why Gravespire’s unguarded. If we want that chance, Ryland…this is the time.” Varian’s gaze bounced between Lyrae’s flushed cheeks and my obvious erection, then narrowed on me. “What the fuck, Ryland?”
Lyrae wasn’t looking at either of us. She was measuring that messy trail of footprints, her grin terrifying. “You two go and get the Triune. I’m staying to help Rooke. If Gravelock came here for his blood…”
I had a hundred arguments I wanted to make, but she was right.
We couldn’t pass up this chance, and again, I thanked the gods Gravelock hadn’t brought the Triune with him, which meant Rooke wasn’t dead…yet.
“The only good thing about this is, he didn’t bring the relics,” she went on, already way ahead of me. “Varian’s right. This is the only chance we’ll get, and I’m not wasting it. Neither should you.”
Before I could say another word, she darted through the doors. I made it one step before Varian cut me off.
“Let her go, Ryland. She can take care of herself. We’re going back to Gravespire. Besides, do you think I’m letting you go in there and continue…whatever the fuck this was?” He flapped his hand at me, shaking his head like a disappointed uncle.
“We had a deal. The next time you’re not cutting me out, you fucker.”