Chapter Twenty-three #3
For she knew the darkness, and the darkness knew her. It was already inside her, coursing through her veins, wrapping around her heart.
And then it started.
The transition to becoming a half-wraith.
The little girl fell to her knees as brutal pain speared through her back, her fingertips, her chest. Everything was on fire and the agony was so great that her screams were silent.
On and on it went, the darkness demanding to be felt as it made its way through every part of her, battling her body into submission.
In the shadow of a fallen kingdom, in the eye of the storm
A daughter of darkness will wield a blade in one hand
And rule death with the other
Thea didn’t know when she came back to herself, didn’t know how long they stood there watching the torture unfold, unable to help the poor girl in the throes of agony.
Little Anya writhed and begged, screamed and crawled across the floor.
When talons sprang from her fingertips, she panicked, clawing at her skin, her face, her eyes.
At some point, older Anya touched her arm.
‘It’s over,’ she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.
The younger version of her had passed out, membranous wings protruding from her back.
The present day came rushing back to Thea. The damp rocky walls of the cavern were all too close, the flickering light of the fires all too bright. Her heart was racing, sweat dampening her brow, as she tried to wrap her mind around all that she’d seen.
Anya watched her closely. ‘ That was why I didn’t try to find you and Wren,’ she said quietly. ‘ That was why I have stayed hidden in the shadows. Until now.’
Thea’s hands were shaking at her sides, but she didn’t know what to say. No words could undo what had been done to her sister.
‘Now do you see?’ Anya pressed. ‘He’s been setting us up, blaming us for the darkness all along. It’s him . King Artos is the blight on these realms.’
‘Beware the fury of a patient Delmirian.’ Malik’s words came back to Thea once more in a whispered rush.
The Delmirian in question was patient no longer. And Thea couldn’t say that she blamed her.
She met Anya’s gaze, a storm of desperation, sorrow and regret. It was like looking into a mirror.
‘At last.’ Anya exhaled. ‘We are seeing eye to eye.’ And with that final word, she walked off, her people parting for her as she made her way through the camp.
Thea watched her go, wondering if she should follow, unsure of what she could possibly say if she did.
‘Could have been worse,’ an unfamiliar voice drawled. ‘Could have been better, too.’
Feeling sick, Thea looked to her right to find a winged man observing Anya, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his striking features lined with apprehension.
Delicate shadows danced around him, as though moving with his thoughts.
He looked to be around Wilder’s age and was handsome in his own rugged way.
At Thea’s scrutiny, his bottle-green eyes slid to her.
‘We haven’t officially met,’ he said in that same almost lazy drawl, as he offered her a wide hand. ‘Dratos Castemont. Dratos the Dawnless, if you like.’
Thea reached for his hand, quietly stunned.
She’d never seen one of his kind up close before.
Whenever she’d been near Anya, she’d been too focused on everything else to even register her sister’s wings.
But Dratos… He looked like some sort of terrifying aerial warrior, ready to cleave through the skies.
‘No one fucking calls you that,’ Wilder interjected, rolling his eyes at the general.
Dratos shrugged and stuck a small pipe between his teeth, his shadows coiling around him. ‘They will, my friend.’
‘I’ll believe it when I hear it,’ Wilder said gruffly before looking at Thea and surveying the torn ballgown that left much of her exposed. ‘We should get you something to wear.’
Dratos’ eyes lit up. ‘But she looks ravishing .’
Wilder was already pulling her away from the shadow-touched general. ‘That wasn’t in question,’ he muttered.
Thea’s stomach fluttered at that, and at the warmth of his hand as it grasped hers to lead her through the camp.
The hour was late. Long gone were the laughing children and constant movement between the canvas structures, but the quiet that had settled over the cavern was comforting, nothing like the eeriness Thea had experienced on the road for the past year.
Here there was warmth and life… and her actions had jeopardised that.
How many times had she saved Artos’ life now?
Twice? Dread lurched low in her gut as she thought of poor Jasira.
Did she know what her father was? What would this mean for her when it all came to light?
Wilder took her to a tent on the far side and opened the flap for her. Inside, it was large enough for even Wilder to stand upright, and from the weaponry and maps on the table, she guessed the tent was his and his alone.
He pointed to a rucksack on the floor. ‘There’s a spare shirt and pants in there. I’ll find you something more suitable in the morning.’ He turned to leave.
‘You’re going?’ Thea said without thinking.
He tensed, his silver gaze like liquid heat as it met hers. Thea felt him in her blood, under her skin.
His muscular chest heaved, as though it was taking every ounce of his willpower to stay rooted to the spot. ‘Whatever you’re thinking… I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
Thea took matters into her own hands, closing the distance between them, resting her palms on his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath her touch.
‘Wilder…’ She relished the heat of him against her, savouring his scent.
His hands cupped hers and drew them away. ‘I… I don’t think we’re there.’
Thea’s throat grew painfully tight and her lungs constricted as her arms dropped to her stomach, clutching the pressure there. ‘But you said…’
She was mortified to hear her voice crack. She was not that girl. She had been that girl once before and vowed never to be so again.
‘You didn’t trust me with the truth,’ she said instead, peering up at his face, willing the tears not to fall.
‘You didn’t trust me, full stop,’ he countered, nostrils flaring.
‘I could have, had you just told me.’
Wilder stared at her, his expression pained. ‘I didn’t know the truth myself. I wanted to make sure before I threw you into all this chaos.’
Thea raised her voice in desperation. ‘Then that’s what you should have told me. You should have told me that you didn’t know.’
Wilder’s brows shot up and he started to pace, exasperated. ‘And what? Put your future at Thezmarr at risk? Liaising with the shadow-touched is treason! You wanted to be a Warsword more than anything —’
Thea drew a ragged breath. Still on the verge of tears, she grabbed him, forcing him to look at her. ‘Not more than anything,’ she said quietly. ‘ You are what I wanted. More than anything. I know that now.’
Conflict warred in Wilder’s eyes as he towered over her and lifted her chin with a single finger. ‘Is that so?’ The melodious depth of his voice made her toes curl. ‘Prove it.’
Thea went rigid for a moment, before she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and slammed her mouth to his.
His lips were intoxicating. He tasted like fire and temptation, like home.
His mouth moved over hers in a fervour, their kiss intensifying, out of control as his hands slid down her spine, curving over her backside and lifting her up.
Impossibly fast, he had her on the table, maps cast aside in one swipe, her legs wrapped around him, the tattered remains of her dress riding up.
‘Thea,’ he groaned, voice ragged with need.
She arched up into him, pressing her breasts to him and rubbing against the hardness she could feel beneath his pants.
Every nerve in her body came alive, fraying beneath the slightest friction.
Gods, she wanted him – she wanted him with everything she had.
She shoved his shirt up, raking her nails down the ridges of his carved abdomen, determined to mark him as hers, until he hauled the fabric over his head and cast it aside.
Desperate for contact, she spread her hands across the breadth of his chest, revelling in the heat and hardness of him, passion coursing through her, dampening her core.
With a moan, Wilder slid his rough palms up her thighs, spreading her wide so he could grind against her, pinning her to the table as his mouth devoured her.
She sucked in a sharp breath as he bit her lower lip and dragged his teeth down the column of her throat, ripping the bodice of her dress down to expose her breasts.
‘Furies save me,’ he murmured at the sight before his mouth lowered to her nipple.
Thea cried out, her whole body becoming molten beneath his touch, beneath his tongue. Her hands went to his belt. She needed to touch him, needed to taste him, needed to feel him inside her after all this time.
He gasped as her hand slipped inside his pants and wrapped around the rock-hard length of him. She stroked him, imagining that first thrust inside her, imagining the force of him unleashed upon her —
With a muttered curse, he pulled back, removing her hand, panting slightly.
‘What is it?’ Thea said, pulling her dress up to cover herself.
He ran his fingers through his hair and snatched up his shirt from the ground. ‘I… We’re not there, Thea. So much has happened, I don’t…’
Thea’s heart seized. ‘You don’t feel that way about me anymore?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ He buttoned his shirt with trembling fingers, the evidence of his arousal still bulging in his pants.
‘Then stay,’ Thea murmured, biting her lip and ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes.
‘I could stay. I want to.’ Wilder’s gaze raked over her like a starved man’s. ‘But I won’t. Not yet. Not when you’re unsure.’
‘I am sure —’
‘You’re sure about sex, about distraction.
But not about me. About us. There’s still a lot that needs to be said between us, and I won’t fuck you again until you’re certain.
Until you know there’s no coming back from this.
’ His eyes darkened as they drank her in once more before he opened the tent flap. ‘Night, Thea.’
Thea stared after his muscular back as he disappeared outside, her blood still hot, still burning for him.