9. Saige #3
I hesitate. Now that I’m free of the nightmarish prison, the reality of my situation hits me…
Who knows what this Azkari truly wants from me.
His kind aren’t exactly known for being forthcoming or honest. And he’s certainly less than welcoming.
I may be better off if I cut and run, and try to rescue Raven and Yevna on my own.
At the very thought, heat encircles my wrists, and I look down to find matching black rings of fire joining my hands—a flaming set of manacles.
They don’t burn—but they’re warm against my skin, almost uncomfortable.
Archer watches me with dark eyes, his expression utterly unreadable. “I was wondering how long it would take you to try.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” I reply, unable to tear my gaze away from his magic. I’ve never seen anything like it. An entire element, bending to his will, as though it’s a part of him as much as blood and bone. It’s beautiful. And terrifying.
“Not yet,” he allows. “But your intentions are only faint. A curiosity more than anything. Should the nature of those intentions change, so does the intensity of the flame.”
I gnaw the inside of my cheek.
Archer’s nostrils flare. “I’d advise against toying with it.”
I take a tentative step towards him, the heat of flame manacles lessening, until they fizzle out entirely, leaving my skin unmarked, unharmed. “I need to make something clear, General. If you betray me, if you harm anyone I care about, I will find a way to end you—bargain or no bargain.”
“Are you going to throw another book at my head?”
“A much bigger one next time,” I reply, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.
The teasing in my voice seems to trigger something in the warrior. He clams up, scowling. Even with that murderous look on his face, he’s breathtaking. Warmth pools low in my abdomen at his approach, and my breath quickens. No one has ever kissed me like that before, like I was a lifeline.
“And I need to make something clear to you, bookbinder,” Archer says, his voice low and menacing. “That kiss was to ensure the strength of the bargain and nothing more. My purpose here is singular: defeating Malevron.”
Oh.
“We are not lovers. We are not friends,” he continues coldly, his gaze boring into mine.
My cheeks flame, and I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool. I’m no fawning maiden, I know one kiss does not a lover make, even a kiss like that… But there’s no need to be a prick about it. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, General,” I mutter.
“I’m not here to make you feel special,” he growls.
“We have a mutually beneficial agreement, after the requirements are met, we go our separate ways, end of story. Listen closely, Grayson. This relationship is strictly business. I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with mortal feelings or drama. There will be no distractions, no emotional entanglements, and certainly no more kissing.”
“With an attitude like that, General, you need not worry about me getting attached. I assure you, it’s the last thing on my mind,” I bite back, surprised to find that his declaration stings.
His mouth on mine was just as hungry, just as desperate.
“You think I would ever want an Azkari? Let alone one that bears that brand?”
Archer stills as my harsh words land. My throat closes up as regret lances through me.
For a second, I wonder if I’ve gone too far.
He didn’t ask for that mark, it’s already a source of shame for him, and now I’ve gone and thrown it in his face.
I’m not usually so reactive, so quick to anger, but the General has wasted no time bringing it out in me.
His emerald eyes flare, a ring of fire encircling his irises. “Glad we’re on the same page then, bookbinder,” he snaps. “An Azkari would break you like a twig. Now can we get moving?”
It’s not until pain blooms along my jaw that I notice I’ve been grinding my teeth. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” I take a breath and straighten my shoulders. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this will be over.”
“Good. Take my hand.” He wears three rings.
A plain silver band on each pinkie, and then a signet ring on his right forefinger.
Its band is silver, dull with age and scratches, but it holds a black gem at its center.
An unusual accessory for a war general. I’m surprised he’s kept it after all these years.
“To clarify, I don’t take orders from you.”
“Orders? Grayson, it seems like you barely take suggestions.” He offers his open palm. “You may want to close your eyes.”
“Believe me, war hero or not, I’ll always have at least one eye open with the Black Flame looming over me.”
Something flickers across his face. “I didn’t choose that name. It’s not who I am.”
It’s exactly who he is. I’ve seen it with my own eyes—his onyx fire flooding the forest, the inferno he commanded with a flick of his fingertips. Yet, much to my dismay, the note in his voice stirs something in me that I want to stamp out with the heel of my boot: curiosity.
The question escapes me, a mess of contradiction and challenge. “Then who are you?”
He considers me for a long moment, before tugging me through the arch, his words sharp in my ear even as we are swept up into the wind.
“No one you’d want to know.”