64
When Shadows Meet Light
Melody
Caryan is behind me. “Stand,” he murmurs into my ear. “You can let the lake glow without your hand touching the surface. Your fingers must be cold already.”
My breath catches when I gently pull my fingers away. He’s right: My hand is freezing from the long contact with the ice. He takes it in his briefly and gently lets his magic seep into my flesh. My fingers are warm in an instant.
Thanks to him touching me, my magic has no problem continuing to flow out of me, sustaining the spectacle and glowing more glittering and brighter than before.
“Now let’s put on a little show for them, shall we?” he asks into my hair, damn close to my ear.
My breath hitches when his fingers slide along the deeply cut back of my dress.
His other hand rests on my hip, touching the stretch of skin just where the slit of the dress reaches up, exposing my leg.
It’s an intimate touch. When I turn to look over my shoulder at him, I find his cloak is gone.
He’s standing there with his wings out, his irises glowing with my magic as he looks back at me.
“You look beautiful in that dress,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my lips for a second. “I knew it would suit you.”
“ You sent it?” I ask incredulously, suddenly feeling mortified. I didn’t know. And it leaves me with the strange question of whether I would have worn it if I had known? The answer is yes.
And the fact that Caryan took the time to choose a dress for me….
“Who else?” he asks sharply, and it suddenly sounds like a threat.
I involuntarily turn my head back to where Riven was standing, but he’s gone. My heart aches and dances at the same time, torn between the two feelings, not sure which of them to follow.
But my skin is alive with Caryan—his magic, his touch, his closeness—until it begins to glow beneath his hands.
Too late, I realize that everyone is staring at us. And that they are actually kneeling, because they spotted Caryan. My heart pounds even faster.
Caryan hears it and chuckles quietly. “Do you like people kneeling at your feet?”
I swallow. “Not particularly.”
“Liar,” he breathes back, his hand splaying over my belly, evoking the keen memory of how his fingers fucked me the last time when he touched me like that. When we shared our magic to repair the wards.
As crazy as it sounds, part of me wishes he would fuck me again, right here.
Part of me needs to feel his hands and mouth all over me, as much as I need breathing.
I suddenly no longer care about everyone watching us.
It’s the strangest feeling, the strangest sensation, but all that matters is his closeness and too many layers of skin separating us.
I need him everywhere. I need him deep inside me.
Gods. I’m burning alive, and he clearly knows it, by the way he laughs quietly again.
“I promise you get used to it with time,” he murmurs darkly, referring to the people still kneeling. Probably. Before I can retort, he orders, “Now let me in.”
I stifle a moan when more of his magic fills me up. I let my walls down, let him in, let mine flow into his. Our two magics embrace inside me, weaving back together like two halves of the same soul.
I gasp when shadows trail off his wings and shoulders, washing over me in the most torturous way before pooling at my feet like dark smoke.
Those tendrils of smoke spread, and students gasp as the magics keep flowing until they cover the whole surface of the lake, only to rise slowly like black flames, licking up the students’ legs and hips and faces, because they’re all still kneeling.
It’s impressive. And beautiful.
And also terrifying.
Because everyone knows Caryan could will those shadows to kill in the blink of an eye. It’s only his mercy that keeps them tamed and harmless.
There’s a moment of silence where everyone seems unsure.
“Stand,” Caryan commands, his voice magnified by magic.
They all obey immediately, their eyes still transfixed on us.
“Welcome to the Ball of the Blue Moon,” he says.
Finally, the tension seems to dissipate. Caryan’s fingers circle my hipbone, drawing my attention back to him. To where he is pressing hard against my body, our two magics still a wild storm inside me.
As if he felt it, too, as if he knows the turmoil that he and his magic are causing in me, he murmurs, “Now let it out.”
I do. I let go, and our two magics shoot out of us together, wisps of black smoke and silvery tendrils wrapping and curling around us in the air.
My magic dances along his smoke-flames, lacing and curling around the black fire burning at the students’ feet.
Everyone cheers and stares. Above us, the magical creatures of red and lilac magic are still circling, but Caryan’s shadows rise.
Everyone lifts their heads to watch how shadows wrap around them, and, in the blink of an eye, they are gone.
Extinguished.
Snuffed out like stars by a black hole.
A quite impressive show of power. And a statement.
“Now surprise me, little painter,” Caryan whispers.
Again my stupid heart stutters when I feel his breath on my neck. Knowing his fangs are mere inches away. His lips so close he could kiss my skin.
Before I can think too much about it, I obey and conjure silver wolves from thin air, letting them chase each other through the silvery snow.
It’s all my silver magic. I let the wolves dart between students, pawing and biting each other playfully, just as I did that day in the woods with Ryder’s pack.
I draw the scenes from memory, let all the joy I felt that day pour into my magic, and I swear they are glowing even more, spreading glitter over the students everywhere they go.
People laugh, others try to touch them.
“More,” Caryan suddenly commands in a whisper, which evokes a very different memory.
He said the same word when he made me kneel over him in the throne room of his castle once.
When I was still his slave and everyone knew.
When he wanted to show the world that he had the daughter of the woman who almost killed him serving him in every way he wanted her to.
When his eyes first shone like molten gold.
Just because he touched me. Because we were that close.
I can’t help but recognize how much has changed between us since then. As cruel as he was, despite all the threats, he’s never treated me like a slave here.
He hasn’t let anyone know that I am still his slave.
No. He stands here as the Dark Lord, and I’m right there beside him.
He doesn’t make me kneel. Serve.
I don’t let my mind dwell on that. Instead, I give him what he wants. Craves. He wants a surprise, and I deliver.
I concentrate, envision Aris in his most magnificent form, then let my magic take it.
Hushed whispers billow over the crowd as three enormous dragons appear—well, demons in dragon shape, since I know there aren’t dragons with four horns.
Each is taller than the tree in front of the campus.
They dive in and out through the plumes of Caryan’s darkness, which has started to gather thicker and thicker around the students, immersing them deeper in the magical spectacle.
My creations circle closer and closer to the blue moon, dispersing his darkness wherever they fly, their wings shedding silvery light that rains down on the crowd like falling stars.
Even I stare at Caryan’s and my magics, because they are unspeakably beautiful.
“Good girl,” he rasps into my ear—the same words he used back then—and, Abyss, I melt into him as he pulls me close, his hardness pressed against my backside.
My breasts suddenly turn sensitive, aching for his touch, straining against the tight confines of my dress. A slow, molten warmth spreads through me, betraying exactly how much I want him.
He presses one kiss against my neck. A move no one else detects because my hair hides it.
Then he steps away and vanishes.
The crowd cheers and claps as our magic slowly disperses.
My friends find me where I’m still standing rooted to the ground, Caryan’s kiss lingering like a brand. Everyone moves safely back to shore, and we watch the water finally melt back into its steaming form once the students loosen their grip on their own magic.
It’s still summer, still warm, but I can’t help feeling cold and unreactive without Caryan.
“Well, that was something I’ve never seen before,” Ryder drawls, and my gaze flicks from him to Cassius.
They are both clad in shining suits, cut in Avandal fashion, with jeweled lapels and cuffs stitched with silver thread.
They wear matching silken shoes stitched in different patterns.
Cassius only has eyes for Shay, while Ryder compliments me on my dress before he says, “Don’t tell me it was the Dark Lord who just—”
One look cuts him off, thanks to his wolf instincts. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I snap, knowing by Shay’s expression that I just hurt them by not telling the truth. But hells, after that, everyone probably thinks I screwed Caryan, and I’m not ready for that.
Because…maybe they’re not that far off.
Damn.
Not that I didn’t bring this upon myself. But if I’m very honest with myself, another, very dark part of me, deep down, thrives on it. As if I’ve somehow left my mark on Caryan too. Now they all now know that he is mine too.
It’s all so fucked up.
I’m glad when my friends start talking about the ball and the moon and I can trudge along in silence back to the campus. I look out for Blair, wondering what she’s thinking.
She suddenly reappears by my side just as we enter the ballroom. “Nice show,” is all she says with a long glance at me. Then she spots someone over my shoulder and whispers a See you later before heading off after them.
I bite back my grin when I spot Meanara in a deep-red gown that has everyone turning to look at her. Blair snarls at them behind her back and sends them scattering in all directions.