8. Saige #2
“Don’t listen to him,” Archer commands sharply. “Grayson, you need to choose. Now. As soon as he realizes my magic is returning, your only chance to escape is gone.”
From somewhere above, I can hear the rattle of keys, and the clinking of armor. Heavy footsteps fall upon the stone steps, several pairs.
“Ke-Vor! They’re coming for her,” shouts Rook in the distance. “A dozen—maybe more!”
“My power isn’t at full strength. I won’t be able to fight them off or take your place this time… And if they take me, you’re never getting out of here,” Archer’s voice dances across my skin. “Last chance, Grayson.”
At last, even though I know in my bones it will spell my doom, I steel myself and nod.
“I need to hear you say it,” Archer sounds closer than before. “Do you have an answer for me?”
Cold air whistles between my teeth as I inhale sharply, as I brace myself for what will follow my next two words. “I accept your terms.”
As the consent leaves my lips, the advancing guard freezes, suspended in time, as though under some sort of spell, and Archer’s voice blooms in the darkness. “Then the deal must be sealed properly.”
I hear a splash in the water as Archer steps towards my cell. Archer’s rich timbre vibrates through my bones as I offer my hand to the darkness. “This is a binding oath between us. It requires... more.”
“More? How convenient that your deal requires whatever suits you best. What do you want? My firstborn?”
“Good gods, no.” He sounds genuinely revolted. “You’re stalling.”
The faint torchlight outside my cell suddenly gutters and dies, plunging everything into darkness.
Before I can react, I hear the scrape of metal as the door to my cell opens and sense rather than see a powerful presence slip inside my cage.
I am left frozen in the pitch black, my hand pressed to my pounding heart, mouth dry, my boots soaking wet.
I can retreat no further, and so I lift my chin in defiance.
I hear the whisper of fabric as he shifts and catch the barest outline of broad shoulders blocking what little light filters through.
He wades through the water straight through Malevron’s face, disrupting the glassy surface, dispelling the enemy’s likeness in a single stride.
“Is he gone?” I breathe, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.
“Not for long.”
Archer is here. The Azkari prisoner of war who took my place on the torture tables, who held my hand while he slept, is here, in my cell. I can feel the searing heat of him right in front of me, all around me.
I startle as he takes the hand shaking at my side, as though he can see perfectly in the inky black of the cell. A single finger traces a line across my palm.
“Blood would be the traditional way to seal our bargain,” he murmurs. “But for one of this magnitude… It will need to be… a kiss.”
I blink into the dark. Never bargain with the Azkari—not with words, not with blood, and never, ever with a kiss. Shit.
“To seal with a kiss is the most powerful of oaths,” Archer explains, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “Don’t think for a second that a kiss has anything to do with you.”
“I can’t believe I’m actually considering this madness.”
“I’m flattered,” Archer says dryly. “A common human deigns to consider me.”
“You said so yourself—I’m stalling.”
An intense flicker of heat surges around me and then just as suddenly, it’s gone.
The garbled hissing noise of Malevron’s monsters draws near, the strange language so eerie and vicious that the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“I don’t make the rules,” Archer growls. “The Weave has its own laws.”
I rub the goosebumps from my forearms. “Like you’ve never broken a law.”
The heat radiating from him intensifies, and I realize he’s close enough that if I reached out, I’d touch him. The thought sends an unwelcome shiver through me.
“There’s time for that yet,” he murmurs.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse, hating how breathless I sound.
“Why shouldn’t I? I’ve learned to take the little pleasures in life where I can. If that includes tormenting a beautiful woman when she falls into my lap, so be it.”
“I haven’t fallen anywhere. I’m making a calculated decision.”
“Keep telling yourself that. We both know you’ve already made it.”
Archer crowds me against the cold stone wall, and somehow, even in the dark, I can see his eyes.
Emerald. Something ancient and wild flickers behind them.
My pulse quickens for reasons that have nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me—like he can see straight through to my soul. Like he knows… too much.
It’s a game. It’s all just a fucking game to him.
The click of a key turning in a lock breaks the silence, announcing that I’m out of time as it turns and the iron hinges creak as the door of my cell swings inwards…
Every instinct screams at me to find another way. But when his thumb brushes across my cheekbone—my resolve wavers.
“Your choice, Grayson,” he whispers.
When I remember to breathe, his scent floods my senses—agarwood and amber, with a hint of orange blossom.
I dip my head in confirmation, but my next words are barely audible. “I still don’t trust you.”
“Good.” He traces my jaw, tilting my face to his. There’s something almost broken in his touch. “Trust is just another word for delusion.” He leans closer. “But want? Want is undeniable.”
And then his mouth is on mine.