31
Her Monster
Riven
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Kyrith drawls—just before my hand fists in his hair and I slam his head into the wall, nose first. “Uh, someone’s out for blood,” he spits, laughing.
“You have no idea,” I growl against his ear as my Nefarian talons slide from my fingers and into his flesh.
He chuckles, unfazed, even with blood running down his face and my claws buried in his skin. “I always wondered which of us would win if it ever came to this.”
I smash his head into the wall again, savoring the thud—the sickening give of bone. A blink later, he’s standing in front of me, grinning through the blood like the lunatic he is.
He winks. “Teleporting, bat boy.”
My black flames roar up over his shoulders in answer.
“Mm,” he hums, tilting his head as he gives himself a leisurely once-over, utterly unbothered.
He brushes imaginary ash from his shoulders, the gesture slow, theatrical, his smile widening.
“Looks like you’ll have to be faster,” he adds lightly, his eyes flicking back to me.
“Why don’t we see if your fire can keep up with me. ”
I drag the darkness of my magic up from deep inside, shaping it with half a thought. Black fire snaps into existence in a blazing ring around him. Heat singes the ends of his pale hair, and he hisses, teleporting again—
—straight into the waiting jaws of flame I left behind.
“Clever,” he says, still laughing. “You’ve always been clever. But I must say, I’ve never seen you this angry.”
He has no idea. He doesn’t know that, every time I close my eyes, I see Melody’s face—furious with me, cold as arctic ice.
He doesn’t know that I can still taste her perfect scent, like vanilla and flowers blooming under starlight and everything that’s ever been good in this world.
That I know she belongs to Caryan, that she is his mate, and that that knowledge is tearing me apart.
Yes—at this point, I don’t have much to lose. And men like that tend to be dangerous.
“Time you learned,” I snarl, hurling a spear of shadowfire at him.
It slams into a wall of solid ice. He’s good—too good—but I’m already gone, stepping from the shadows behind him.
My talons close around his throat again. “Let’s see how you like heights.”
The Nefarian steel ring on my finger bites deep into his neck, cutting off his magic. He chokes, eyes widening as he realizes what I’ve done.
“What the fuck?” he spits, panicked when he’s unable to summon his power.
The Nefarian steel blocks him off from it and locks it deep down in his body.
If he breaks the rules with his teleporting tricks, I’ll break them back—with forbidden steel.
Once Nefarian steel draws blood, it nullifies a fae’s power—for a while.
I summon my membraned wings and unfurl them.
Then I launch into the night sky, hauling the bastard with me.
The wind tears past us. Kyrith thrashes, his elbows slamming into my jaw, my ribs.
I snarl and drive my claws deeper into his throat, pinning him there, crushing and piercing, one heartbeat from ending him outright.
“It fucking hurts,” he growls.
“Good,” I retort. “This is just the beginning. Now enjoy the flight.”
When the highest tower of the campus looms beneath us, I drop him.
He plummets from the sky like a stone, reflexively throwing out his hand to cast magic and stop his fall—in vain, because the Nefarian steel will cut off his access to it for at least half an hour longer.
The crack of bone when he hits is almost satisfying enough to drown out the part of me that aches for something else—for someone else.
Her. Always her. Every breathing and thinking minute.
I land gracefully, dismissing my demonic wings, and stalk toward him. Somehow, he’s on his feet, one bloody hand leaving a print on the ancient stones as he fights to keep upright.
“You fucking cheat,” Kyrith rasps, blood flecking his lips. His gaze locks on the black Nefarian claw-ring glinting on my finger, its razor-sharp tip extending over my nail.
“Where did you get that?” he demands.
“That’s the least of your worries,” I say, my voice smooth and lethal, and seize his throat again.
“What, you going to kill me now?”
“I’m tempted.” And I am—gods, I am. But Caryan would have my head, and I can’t afford his wrath. She needs me. Even if it’s only to protect her. “I think Caryan would prefer to do it himself, once he learns what you did to her.”
Kyrith coughs a bloody laugh, spitting out a mouthful. “Yeah? Caryan’s the one who assigned me to train her.”
“And last time you hurt her, he nearly killed you.” My long talons dig deeper.
“Yeah, you think so? Where is he, then?” Kyrith snarls. “Why not call him, bat-boy? And tell him to stop me.”
When I say nothing, he grins at me, even with his blood running down my hand and almost choking on my claw penetrating his flesh, digging in one side of his neck only to protrude out the other.
“Not even you know where he is, isn’t that right?”
I don’t confirm it, but it’s true. Caryan has disappeared to gods know where, without telling any of us anything.
This has been going on for months now. Sometimes I see him when he shows up to hold court in Niavara for a few hours before he’s gone again.
And that bond between us, that living thing, aches worse than ever from the lack of contact.
It’s damaged, and I suffer.
Kyrith starts to really struggle for breath, and I retract my talons before I can kill him. He collapses to his knees, blood pouring down his throat.
I crouch, my shadow falling over him, biting back the snarl that wants to rip free.
Her face flashes in my mind again—Melody’s fury, her disappointment, the way she looks at me now every time she sees me, as if I’m a monster.
I can live with being her monster. It’s the better way.
The only way, because she’s Caryan’s mate.
And whatever has been between us has to end.
We never stood a chance anyway. Yes, I can live with my heart being torn out by her.
I can live as a husk, hungering and longing for her.
And if it’s easier for her if she hates me, I can make her hate me.
I will do anything just to make her happier, her life a little bit easier.
Yes, I can live as her guarding shadow with a bleeding heart for the rest of my miserable life.
But I could never live with seeing her hurt.
I fix my gaze on Kyrith. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to end you. Slowly. Permanently. You’ll be so dead not even Caryan will be able to bring you back. I’ll tear you apart piece by piece and feed what’s left to Aris.”
I straighten, fix the lapels of my jacket and turn away.
Behind me, Kyrith wheezes through his torn throat. “I will keep training her, Riven. My way. And while Caryan’s gone, you can’t stop me. I know he ordered you to stand back. You’re already pushing those orders by coming for me. I can feel the strain on you.”
I’m back at him so fast he can only blink.
My hand lifts, almost on its own, going for his neck again.
But he’s right—the magic of my oath to Caryan hums through me, keeping me from snapping his neck right here and now, keeping my fingers from curling a little bit further to finish him off. Once and for all.
“You’ll regret that,” I say softly, and leave him bleeding in the courtyard.