Chapter 5 Buried Dagger
Buried Dagger
CASPIAN
Drenched from the storm, goosebumps covered her barren skin as she shivered. Like a glass doll, easily breakable if it came to it, her petite body thrashed helplessly in my arms.
A pathetic attempt at escape.
Inhaling deeply and wholly unbothered by her struggle, I tightened my hold, pressing every inch of myself flush against her.
The smell of citrus welcomed me—spiced and bitter.
Humored by her scent’s accurate depiction of her demeanor, I chuckled, clenching my jaw to curb the hunger coursing through my veins.
Nipping at her ear, I hissed, “I’d prefer not to put my hands on you. My men don’t like their fruit bruised before they even get the chance to—”
Her teeth sank into my hand, the back of her head colliding with the center of my face. Pain shot through my nose, cartilage exploding with the impact. In tandem, a searing burn roared through my flesh, a slew of curses tumbling from me as I instinctively shoved her away.
She shuffled to the side, putting distance between us while she still could, leveraging the moment of anguish that consumed my senses.
Even though affliction blinded me, I caught the brush of her palm against my thigh.
The touch alone ignited my wrath, and the instant she snatched one of my many daggers free from my waist, it exemplified tenfold.
A low growl came from my throat as I wiped my nose with the back of my arm.
Crimson greeted me, staining my linen sleeve with its ruby hue.
At the sight, nightmares flashed, dungeon walls and my own remembered screams threatening to send me spiraling.
Doing the only thing I knew would shield me from my darkest vulnerabilities, I settled into the very essence of indignation—the aura of my soul.
Manic laughter fell from my blood-coated lips, echoing through the barren streets as my glare settled on her. “You fucking bitch.”
Courtesy of the rain, her already minimal clothing cinched around her frame.
Clinging to her waist with near-desperation, the bodice stretched over her minimal curves, and the sight alone was enough to have me salivating in desire.
While she wasn’t my type, I could appreciate a beautiful woman when I saw one, and she was no exception.
But her godsawful personality was another beast entirely, traits that would undoubtedly get her killed if she continued to refuse to tread lightly around me.
“I’m the bitch?” Sneering, she cocked her head to the side, unbothered by the cosmetics trailing down her cheeks and staining her skin. Her dark brows lifted as she pointed my weapon at me. “Last I checked, pirate, you have no rights of ownership over me, because I’m not for fucking sale.”
“Oh?” Stepping toward her until nothing remained between us, I whispered, “Last I checked, any whore beneath the roof of Seirdra’s Veil has a price tag, and I had to up-bid that blonde asshole who was panting over you like a mutt in heat.
There was even another piece of shit watching from afar.
Considering neither bothered to challenge my offer with any coin of their own, you’re damn well mine. ”
Her nose scrunched with confusion. “There was someone who watched—”
“Not that it's of any importance,” I started, my canines nicking the inside of my lip with heightened annoyance. “But Malrik Ravelle, the Overseer of Assassins, fondled himself over the mere sight of you. I mean, for fuck’s sake, the man adjusted his prick in his trousers far more times than I—”
Before I could react, her knuckles slammed into my jaw with a ferocity I’d never expected from someone her size. The impact settled, and a sharp ring erupted through my ear, its pitch high enough to drown out her barefooted retreat.
The uncomfortably familiar tang of iron was quick to follow, flooding the back of my throat and forcing me to recall the insurmountable times I’d lain on Elaros’s doorstep.
Ignoring the ghosts of my past, I spat out a mouthful of my unknown lineage, a life force I never had an interest in tracking down.
My audible vexation escaped me as a guttural snarl, the only sound left to fill the silencing night.
With the thunderous skies and torrential downpour, the thin, breathable material I wore suctioned to my skin, trying to shield me from something—from her.
Craning my head to the side, each vertebra popped, attempting to soothe the tension that was nearly drowning me.
We were departing from the port at the first sign of dawn, and with how things had gone, I knew I had little time left to acquire the bitch I’d bought.
A bitch who lured me in for gods knew what reason.
Allowing the frigidity to level me, I moved, prowling down the cobblestone corridor.
The sword, forged only for my touch, bounced against my waist, my sharpened knives chiming with each stride.
Every second-nature skill I’d refined surged forward, and I slipped on the mask I preferred over any other—the mercenary.
The atmosphere absorbed my wrath, and with darkness working on my side, something metallic scraped against stone.
A bin filled to the brim with trash rolled from around the corner and into my line of sight, its contents spilling into a heaping pile of wretched filth.
As if my billowing indignation commanded the wind, the slightest gust encouraged a strand of scarlet hair to sway out from the jagged edge of the building, giving away her failed hiding spot.
A smirk formed, and I softened my footsteps, ensuring that the weapons I’d adorned myself with didn’t provide an audible cue of where I was coming from.
With the gap closing, I wrapped my palm around one of the intricately patterned hilts, tearing it from its sheath with every intention of using it.
Leaning against the wall, various textures nipped at my back, prodding the countless scars littering my skin.
Broken exhales greeted me, the rhythm of someone struggling to catch their breath.
Humming, I leaned forward, my body brushing against the side of the tavern she’d chosen to hide behind.
Carried by the wind, her near-intoxicating scent greeted me, threatening to drive me mad, as if the gods crafted her to be the poison that would ultimately lead to my downfall.
Maybe Arthur had been onto something.
The burning inferno that churned within her contained something I couldn’t decipher. When I’d spotted her in Seirdra’s Veil, I’d been able to tell she was different.
Enjoying a drink with Syoran and planning to end up in a room with one of the other escorts—one who would’ve willingly let me have my way with her—she’d been easy to spot with her vibrant hair, but it was the power behind her aura that drew me in.
Where the other women walked with a pep in their step, eager to suck a man of his seed, she stalked, watching people with an analytical eye.
And, as the well-off prick spoke to her, she solidified my assumption: someone else had her attention.
Not just anyone, but a man of high caliber.
The king’s advisor.
Between that and her reaction to the Overseer of Assassins, it became far too easy to uncover her truth. She’d had no choice but to reveal her hand if she wished to stand a chance against me, but I was just as deranged.
If not worse.
The countdown to her explosion began when she perceptibly shifted, her body tensing in acknowledgment of my presence and the borrowed time she was running on.
She sank into the gut-churning realization that she wouldn’t be getting away, no matter how hard she tried.
And with that recognition, her arm swung around the corner as I’d anticipated, the moonlight glinting against the blade’s tip.
Perfectly timed, I dove forward, the space between us vanishing.
Avoiding the sharpened edges of the steel, I wrapped my arms around her, sending both of us tumbling onto the street.
Our bodies met the unforgiving stone, a searing agony shooting up my back as she fought against me for the upper hand.
Moving quickly, nearly faster than any other opponent, her hands explored every inch of my lower extremities.
With a swift tug, she freed yet another dagger from its home, flipping it in her hand with ease.
The crystal hilt danced between her fingers as she handled it with familiarity, wielding the blade as if it were her own.
Lightning cut through the sky behind her as she lifted her arm, driving the frigid metal into my side with expertise that could only belong to one—an assassin.
A roar of agony erupted from my chest, and I reached up, grabbing hold of her throat.
Tossing her off me, her barely clothed frame slid across the rough concrete, its granules shredding through her skin with ease.
Crimson bloomed, macabre flowers coating every inch of porcelain, marking the start of many blemishes I knew my crew would leave behind as a note of their touch.
Biting my bottom lip with enough force to detect an iron tang, I pushed myself to my hands and knees, ignoring the pulsing throb that threatened to rob me of my vision.
Coming to stand, I growled deeply as I wrapped a shaking hand around the dagger and ripped it from flesh and muscle.
The blade tore free with a suctioned squelch, crimson spewing to coat the rain-soaked stone.
Without wasting time on the potential damage or blood loss, I wiped its length on my trousers and returned it to its rightful place.
Glaring down at her beneath hooded brows, the syllables I spoke came out laced with venom. “I have killed people for less,” I spat, palming the gaping hole in my side. “And I have been far too generous with you. At this point, I should string you up by your intestines and leave you for the crows.”
“Sounds far more appealing than being anywhere near you,” she hissed, disgust coating her features.
I laughed, tipping my chin skyward and shaking some of the water from my hair.
“Here’s the ironic thing about that claim, little siren.
I am not foolish enough to believe you are anything close to a whore willing to sell her body for gold.
I knew that the moment I sniffed you out, and every interaction since then has confirmed it.
” My tongue swept across my lips with a hunger I knew became further illuminated by my glower, a hunger that felt ancient.
“So, enlighten me, since you are one of Malrik’s preferred cunts, and I am so unbearable to be around, why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? ”
Shock briefly flashed in her gaze, her jaw clenching as she sneered up at me from her knees.
There was no denying it; she was breathtaking in an unorthodox way.
The near-pastel hues of her seafoam irises suggested a softness I imagined she may have had if Ravelle hadn’t molded her into a killer like me.
Freckles lightly kissed her cheeks, an attribute I couldn’t see beneath the gloomy night sky, but when she had been close enough to me in the brothel, I could spot each dusting.
Her copper hair perfectly fit her personality: stubborn and fervent with a yearning for control—something she’d never experienced.
Nor would she.
She was mine, and gods, it was such a fucking shame she was so violent because taking her…
“So what, Caspian?” she crooned, batting her eyelashes in a way that made me contemplate exploring my temptations.
“Do you want me to suck your cock as a reward for you putting the pieces together? I hate to say it, but I don’t enjoy climbing into bed with men who could never trigger my gag reflex. ”
Matching her fire, I stepped forward, parting my legs to stand over her. “Is that what Malrik did? Stimulated your gag reflex?”
Wrath consumed her senses, and she swung.
Catching her fist with my own, I held her hate-filled gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.
Her nose wrinkled with revulsion, answering the question for me without her having to utter a single word.
The story in her gaze walked too close to mine, and it was one of the most influential reasons I’d elected not to indulge in her, but that didn’t mean I was a man who broke promises.
“I’m glad to hear that your owner did an immaculate job of throat fucking you, but I can promise you, little siren, the pleasure and time I take with women would far surpass anything any other man has even considered exploring with you.
” Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I yanked her forward until our noses touched.
“I’d fill you until I consumed your mind and soul, becoming the only one you ever thought about, but it’s a shame I didn’t buy you for myself. Isn’t it?”
“I will kill every single one—”
The back of my hand met the side of her face before she could continue, the impact enough to knock her unconscious.
Slumping forward in my grasp, blood trickled from her nose, trailing down to snake between her slightly parted lips.
With a quick heave, I pulled her from the ground and tossed her over my shoulder, grunting with the spike of agony that came with the sudden movement.
Blinking through the stars, I inhaled deeply, letting the rainfall draw me back to consciousness.
With a deep exhale, I took the first step toward the docks, muttering, “I’d love to see you try, little siren, because I would have no issue submerging you in the depths of my indignation until my essence consumed your lungs. ”