Chapter 19 Delilah
Chapter nineteen
Delilah
He came toward me like a charging bull, all flaring nostrils and narrowed eyes. Archer looked like vengeance incarnate but he felt like a dare.
Something inside me seemed to rise as he approached. No longer content with being pushed and pulled by the whims of a broody demon, the long-empty void inside me began to stir, a sense of anticipation filling my veins.
If Archer was looking for a fight, I meant to give him one.
“Is there something I can do for you, Archer?” My tone was bored, almost dismissive, but I could feel myself practically vibrating with eagerness.
I was hoping to push some buttons today.
“Yes,” he snarled, stopping only a few inches away from where I stood, forcing me to have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. An intimidation tactic, but one I wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated by. “You can stop throwing yourself at Mal.”
My eyebrows shot up, the surprise I felt at his accusation entirely authentic.
“Throwing myself?” I laughed. “Is that what men are calling friendship these days? How unfortunate.” Shaking my head, I blew out a frustrated breath. “I was simply checking on him. Mal seemed...out of sorts. I just wanted to make sure he was alright.”
“And last night?” Archer’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, swaying toward me in a move that seemed almost unconscious, and it took everything I had not to reach out and touch him.
To rest my hands on his powerful body and feel for myself just how strong he was.
“I supposed you were just checking on him then, too, weren’t you?
Half naked in a bedroom, it didn’t look like there was much in the way of friendship happening.
Not with the way you were clinging to him. ”
He said the words with such vehemence, that for a second, I could only stare, my confusion likely written all over my face.
Then, in a moment of shocking clarity, I understood, and all I could do was laugh.
“Are you...jealous?”
“Never.”
“I think you are.” Tilting my head to one side, I squinted at Archer, noticing that the flush across his pale cheeks was looking less and less like rage and more like embarrassment.
“I think you’re jealous that I’ve gotten closer with Mal.
Vine, too, right?” I chuckled again at how ridiculous it was.
“I assure you, there is nothing more than friendship between any of us.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, seeing as how Archer was technically talking about the guys and not himself specifically.
Because I wasn’t entirely certain what I would have told him if he’d asked.
How did I explain the strange pull I’d felt to him since that first night in the graveyard? That for the first time in my life, I was feeling like there might be more to me than the paltry slight of hand and herbalist tricks that Heidi had been able to teach me.
That something about Archer just felt right in every sense of the word, even while I was still trying to decide if I could actually trust him.
“There is no way that I’d ever be jealous over a witch.” He said it so aggressively, the words leaving his mouth on an angry breath, that I almost believed him.
“Liar.” The look on his face when I used his own accusation against him was priceless.
Lifting my hand, I gently traced my finger over the shadow collar, the now-comforting feel of it responding to my touch and making me smile.
“I think you are jealous. I think you’re domineering, territorial, protective, and very possessive.
” Moving slowly, I reached for his hand, taking it in mine as I turned it over, my gaze falling on the nearly-healed laceration that slashed across his palm, the evidence of his inability to hurt me plain to see.
Lifting his hand, I placed a gentle kiss to the shiny pink skin, biting back a smile at the way his breath hitched.
“And,” I said, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “I think I like it.”
My heart raced in my chest, the tiny spark of something dancing frantically beneath my ribs, begging to be set free.
“I—” he breathed, his gaze dropping to my lips. “I don’t—”
Around us, Archer’s shadows writhed, leaping and dancing at our feet, as though they, too, were enthralled by what was happening.
In my chest, a bright white heat began to pulse, each rapid beat of my heart seeming to lurch in his direction, the warm glow I was feeling practically visible to the naked eye.
As though in a trance, Archer lowered his head, his lips a hair’s breadth away from mine, the smell of smoke invading my lungs as I breathed in his every exhale.
The warm glow rose between us, Archer’s shadows mixing with what I could now tell was a soft white light to form a swirling fog of lust and magic.
Regardless, I couldn’t focus on anything but the intense need to feel his lips on mine.
Lifting onto my toes, I closed the final distance, sighing when we finally made contact, but my delight was short-lived.
“Succubus!” Archer hissed, yanking his hand free of mine, placing it on my shoulder and giving me a shove. “You infernal seductress. Was this your plan from the start?”
“What?” I swayed on my feet, my desire snuffing out like a candle flame as I took in his enraged face. “Archer, I’m not—”
“Stop lying to me!” The shadows were out of control now, a thick cloud of darkness that flooded the small yard, rolling across the dead grass and splashing against the fence like a silent ocean, ready to drown any unsuspecting victim who attempted to navigate them.
“All you ever do is lie! I suppose that was your plan all along. Infiltrate the Brotherhood, seduce your way into my bed in search of secrets.”
“You’re mad,” I gasped, my eyes on the sea of shadows around me.
It was a scene out of a nightmare, and yet, I wasn’t afraid.
While Archer’s shadows likely spelled death for anyone who wandered into them, it didn’t feel that way for me.
The collar at my neck hummed, giving me a sense that it was eager for this confrontation.
I supposed I was too.
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” I insisted, keeping my own voice level even as that warm spark within me rose to meet his anger head on.
It was overwhelming, trying to navigate this precarious conversation while at the same time attempting to come to terms with the fact that finally, impossibly, it looked like my magic was finally making itself known.
After nearly two decades of training, studying, fucking begging my magic to cooperate, it chose the absolute most inopportune time to make its grand entrance.
Typical, right?
“No, witch. I think I’m finally seeing things clearly.
” Taking a deliberate step toward me, Archer quietly seethed, his icy countenance the exact opposite of his frenzied shadows.
“Did you think to make me your Samson, Delilah? That you could charm me, seduce me with your feminine wiles, all while plotting my downfall?”
“Archer.” I raised my hands, begging him to see reason. “You need to listen to me.”
“Enough! I am tired of your lies. From the moment I met you my entire life has been upended in the worst possible way. My brother’s lives have been put in danger, my friend has died, and the Dark Lord’s secrets are being spilled to our enemies.”
Raising his hand Archer pointed a finger at me, the accusation in his eyes more cutting than any blade.
“Everything that has gone wrong can be tied back to one common denominator. You!” He was huffing now, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he raged at me, and still, I felt no fear.
Archer needed to say his piece, but his words changed nothing.
I was not who he thought I was, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, it appeared we were on the same side.
“I am in just as much trouble here as you are, demon.” I sneered the word the same way he always sneered the word witch.
I couldn’t help my nature anymore than he could help his.
“I have lost everyone and everything that ever mattered to me. I am alone, surrounded by people who apparently think the very worst of me at all times, and I have no choice but to stay, because no matter how many times you want to curse my name, I am not your enemy!”
“Deceiver!” he hissed, his eyes wild.
“Ghoul!” I shot back, refusing to be cowed by him
“Sorceress!”
“Fiend!”
“Enchantress!”
“You are the biggest pain in my—”
My words were cut off when Archer reached for me, his fists clenching in the fabric of the hideous dress, and hauled me against him.
“And you refuse to leave my thoughts.”
Then he slammed his mouth against mine.
All thought left my head, my entire world narrowed down to a singular focus: Archer’s lips.
Every twist and pull of his kiss was like a spell I happily fell under. His lips danced against mine, the subtle taste of smoke lingering on my tongue and giving me a thrill of the forbidden.
At my throat, the shadow collar hummed in what felt like satisfaction.
That warmth in my chest ignited into an inferno, and as I closed my eyes, I imagined it as a supernova, the light exploding between us as Archer ravaged my mouth and clutched me to him like he simply couldn’t get close enough.
I whimpered when he pulled back, but he didn’t leave me bereft for long. Repositioning his hold, Archer secured one hand on the small of my back, the other moved to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair and pulling deliciously tight.
Lifting my own arms, I raised them to his shoulders, draping them around his neck as I pulled him down to me, my sensitive breasts pressed tight against his rock-hard chest. The growl he released at the contact had my nipples peaking beneath the rough fabric in a way that made me want to beg for more.
I probably would have, too, if not for the loud clearing of a throat from somewhere across the yard.
Gasping for breath, I rested my head against Archer’s chest, a bit dazed and a lot turned on. Finally regaining some composure, I blinked my eyes open, expecting to see Archer gazing down at me, a smirk on his handsome face.
Instead, he was frowning, not at me, but at the ground beneath our feet.
“Archer?” I asked, pulling back reluctantly. Before I could question him further, I realized what he was staring at, and my own frown formed as a match to his.
Beneath our feet, in a near perfect circle, the dry autumn grass had been charred to ash. Spinning, I cast around, noting with muted surprise that all of Archer’s shadows somehow disappeared, too.
“What did you do?” I asked, kneeling down to touch the still-warm grass. The blackened blades were brittle, crumbling beneath my fingers and leaving behind dark streaks of evidence which I hastily wiped on my dress.
“Me?” Archer replied, his tone accusatory. “You’re the one who is responsible for this. Whatever you did also chased my shadows away.”
“I didn’t do this!” I gestured to the mess at our feet. “I have never done anything like that bef—” Clamping my lips together, I shook my head, not wanting to reveal my greatest shame under his recriminatory stare. “I didn’t do this.”
“If you would both please put a fucking sock in it,” Corson called, and I spun to see him standing in the doorway, looking between the two of us like he’d never seen us before. “Nathaniel’s back. Archer, we got a fuckin’ problem.”