1. Destroyer of Realms
Destroyer of Realms
CASPIAN
Iwas a sought-after man for countless reasons, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she joined the ever-growing list of those who wished to hunt me down.
But, as she held me, the subtle tremor in her hands carried something other than lethality, and I couldn’t help but smile at the weakness she unknowingly displayed.
Rohen Levitte.
My little siren.
Her presence ignited my veins and my mind, burning away at the influence Sorva held over me. Even with her preferred dagger settled against the scar I inflicted upon myself—an area that I usually butchered people for touching—I found myself grounded by the steel she pressed to my throat.
Spiced citrus and nutmeg caressed my nostrils as I inhaled, my tongue running along my bottom lip before I spoke. “Missed me that much?”
Hold tightening on the blade, its sharpened edge nicked my flesh as she snarled, “I promised I would be the one to end you, did I not? Have you already forgotten about that night?”
My brand pulsed with unrelenting anguish at the question, and upon its arrival, that endless well of wrath opened to swallow my discernment.
Threatening to devour me whole, just as it had the evening I nearly executed Alastair, every ounce of ire directed itself at her.
As its fuming heat built, there was nothing more I wished to do than to wrap my hands around Rohen’s neck and watch the light vanish from her emerald irises.
Reaching up, my palm closed around her wrist with malicious calamity. “If you truly wished to kill me, then you would have slit my throat while you had the chance. Tell me, Levitte, why are you quivering when you desire to carry out such an execution?”
“I need answers.” With a forceful yank, she battled against my strength, trying to draw the weapon flush against my Adam’s apple once more. “You’ve been keeping secrets, Captain.”
“Have I?”
“Don’t play coy with me.”
“Coy? It was a simple question,” I crooned with a slight chuckle. “We all remain selective about which truths we share. You wish to feign innocence? Fine. Just let me remind you that I am not daft.”
“There is no form of utterance surrounding my hatred for you that aligns with a lie, nor is my longing to carve your heart from your chest a fib.”
“Ah, but your ability to dance around facts remains prominent. Might I remind you that your shaking hands state otherwise.”
“You mean the hands that are trying to stave off the intoxicating lure of bathing in your blood?”
Loosening my hold to challenge her, I chuckled. “Go for it then, little siren. Slice me open. Spill my insides. Test the hues of my lineage.”
Her tone sharpened, and I could envision her expression in the back of my mind as she replied, “There’s something called common sense. With the Others prowling every inch of the godsdamned palace, I do not wish to draw attention when it is not needed.”
“Yeah?” With a huff, a deadly smirk curled the corners of my mouth upward. “Well, I do.”
Not giving her the chance to reply, I reached over my shoulder and gathered the fabric adorning her frame—silk and exquisite.
Definitely not her usual garb, but a texture I didn’t mind caressing alongside her curves.
Forcing the useless thought from my mind, I heaved her up and over me.
With a quick pivot and an easily executed flick, she collided with the nearest table.
A harsh crash followed, and hors d'oeuvres tumbled, every piece of fruit and each artistically pinned cut of meat rolling across the ground to outline her splayed body.
Her rasped cough barely registered over the unfurling chaos as those in attendance quickly dispersed to the nearest exit.
Ignoring the commotion, I relished the sluggishness it took for her to roll over.
My smile only deepened at the dark jam that lathered her neck and hair with its stickiness.
“If you missed me,” I hummed, cocking my head to the side in amusement, “you could’ve just said so, darling.”
An inhuman growl escaped her as she gritted her teeth. “I liked this dress, you fucking asshole.”
“And I’d like it better off you. Seems we both cannot satisfy what we long for, can we?” Unsheathing the sword from my back, I flicked my tongue against my canine. “Though I could easily cut through that material if you’d hold still long enough.”
“Are you flirting with me, Vayne?”
Biting my bottom lip, I offered her the grin I knew she damn well despised as I spun the pommel between my fingers. “Ah, you’re finally catching on. Haven’t you learned that my ideal form of foreplay is violence?”
She shifted, her bare foot coming to settle beside her splayed palm as she snatched her dagger. Its ruby-jeweled hilt caught the setting rays as they sliced through the open doors, bathing her in a rich golden glow. “Then let me assist you in having the best orgasm of your life, Captain.”
“Careful, my little siren, I may very well take you up on that offer because the sight of you above me—”
With a well-executed lunge, she closed the gap between us.
A warning glint rolled across the sharpened tip of her blade as it lashed toward my throat, just as hungry for blood as she was.
When I stepped out of its line of assault, she tossed it into the air, only to catch it with an overhand grip.
Without a beat of hesitation, she slashed backward, the steel splitting the fabric of my doublet and trailing a thin cut across my chest.
“Rusty, Captain?” she cooed as the burn of her carving rippled across my flesh.
It was a sensation I often didn’t mind, as my experience with torment in the form of lacerations and whippings was extensive.
But there was something about her wielding the blade, something about her marking me with her influence that caused a desire to flare—one that was difficult to pin down or identify.
It built as she swung at me again, but my sword caught her dagger, preventing her from landing another blow.
Emerald stare lifting beneath her lashes, her lips upturned with mischievous glee, and I couldn’t help but admire the sharpness of her features and the countless freckles dotting her porcelain complexion.
Shucking her weapon to the side, I took a single breath and allowed myself to fall into my greed as I examined her lithe body.
The silken crimson she wore set her auburn hair ablaze, its natural waves captivating for far too many reasons than I cared to admit.
Bodice pressed against her sides, curves that once seemed minimal had become eye-catching.
Trailing along her waist, the patterned black lace, which appeared to be designed as delicate thorns, served as another draw to her frame that I quietly cherished.
The material’s continuation up to her throat sent my mind reeling, and the sheer panels coiled around her chest and shoulders did nothing to prevent my thoughts from unfurling.
She was beautiful in an unconventional way, and while I already found her essence entrancing, it summoned the burial of my identity. The portion of myself that had been suffocated by an outside influence, by Sorva.
Longing bloomed in my stomach, and as soon as that spike of intrigue dared to caress my mind, the brand marring my skin ignited with an unrelenting agony.
It was unlike anything I’d felt, a deep-seated scorch that threatened to split my heart in two and turn my innards into molten lava.
My breath hitched to combat it, and as I tipped my gaze upward, I locked eyes with the woman responsible for my suffering.
Sorva stood at a distance, her mouth molded by the near-feline smile she usually wore.
Ember eyes blazing like two coals in a slowly dying fire, she trailed her attention between us.
As the glamour faded, her skin shifted to its usual ashen hue, the relics sprawling across it with pulsing intensity.
Each inflicted, unhealed scar seemed to beat with the tension that clung to the air, her features twisting in disapproval of the woman facing away from her.
Acquainted with the glint in her deepening scowl, I reacted out of instinct, guided by that slowly unveiling yearning.
Rohen swung once more, and I dropped my sword to catch her wrist. Trying not to stumble over my feet as the pain continued to climb to unspeakable heights, I turned and swapped positions with her.
Palm landing on her shoulder, I shoved her back a step until she collided with the wall, my frame devouring hers before Sorva could intervene.
Forearm greeting the surface with hers pinned over her head, I halted myself inches from her face.
My breath hitched at the closeness, her intoxicating scent seeming to pump more poison into my chest. With a rasp, a cough racked my frame, and I tucked my face into my shoulder to capture it.
But as soon as the attack hit, rendering me unable to speak, so did the sharp tang of iron.
“I may have only come with one weapon,” Rohen spat, “but lucky enough for me, your waist is full of them.”
Freeing a dagger from my belt, she spun it between her fingers. In tandem with her movement, I peeled hers from her grasp, and we met each other’s throats simultaneously—her weapon nestled against the scar on my neck and mine angled at her pulse point.
“Be careful how you wield your blade, little siren,” I warned, trying my damnedest to swallow the building affliction. “Because, unlike you, I won’t hesitate. Are you confident enough in your bloodlust? Do you believe yourself capable of shredding through my skin before I tear through yours?”
Lips curling into a sneer, she jutted the dagger forward just enough to nick my flesh. “You doubt me?”
Time. I was running out of time.