Chapter 30
After meeting the godsdamned tyrant king of the fae, I followed Dion through the corridors of Alaiann Palace, silent as a mouse.
Even though he sauntered in front of me, his arrogant, superior, and aloof presentation impeccably executed, his minuscule tells gave away his true mental state.
The muscle feathering in his jaw, the fist in his pocket, clenching and unclenching, and the heavy steps, their intensity barely visible—for everyone but me—all of this spoke a language of its own.
Dion’s pace was brisk as he led me back into his quarters without delay. Once the door had closed, his mask dissipated, and he was shaking, a seemingly perpetual growl leaving his throat. He was hanging on by a thread.
“Can you help me? I lost track of time. How long until winter solstice?”
Not true, but I needed a hook to reel the creature, who was on the edge of succumbing to his feral nature, back in.
Dion’s jaw worked, and if he didn’t relax his face soon, he’d likely break a bone.
Fists balled and spine stiff, his body was taut like a bowstring.
I was no stranger to this expression, usually reserved for when he was moments away from losing his temper, often because Thain behaved in a way he hated—like being alive.
New, though, was a certain primal lethality, highlighting the danger he posed.
The next warning sign was his failure to reply to me.
“Dion? Did you hear me?”
“Can’t—speak—”
His voice was almost drowned out by the subliminal growl, which hadn’t stopped since we’d entered his quarters, and the clarity that he was about to lose control cut me to the bone.
Yet I wasn’t scared.
Deep down, I trusted Dion not to hurt me.
Once before, his blind rage had ended with me injured because the prince had pushed me out of the way when I’d attempted to stop him from murdering Thain.
I’d earned a sprained wrist while Dion, the male I’d believed to be unable to have a bad conscience, had been devastated.
The promise never to endanger me again in his fury was one he wouldn’t break, I was confident.
So, I didn’t flinch when he darted forward and crowded me into the wall. Before I could crash against the solid surface—with a force which would have cracked my skull—he cushioned me with his large hands and with his magic erupting in thick, inky tendrils coiling around me, absorbing the impact.
Surprise and shock must have been written all over my face.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the attempt was squashed when Dion’s lips collided with mine.
He was a force of nature, a primal spirit, ancient and unyielding, forever untamed.
All I could do was surrender, and as I kissed him back, there was nothing soft or tender in the clash between him and me.
His power around us thickened, the strands pulsing and undulating, and the only beacons visible in the darkness were two dots of bright amethyst light, shining with the strength of two purple mini-suns.
Gravity lost its meaning. I was weightless, only grounded by the connection of our lips, by his smell of a rainstorm in a forest just as immemorial as he, and by the taste of shadowy darkness so unique to Dion.
We were the beginning and the end, the void, and yet infinite—discerning where he ended and where I began was impossible, as this dance, older than time itself, overwhelmed my senses and dragged me asunder.
And then his lips abandoned mine. Instead, a fiery trail of fluttering kisses trailed along my jaw to my neck, descending at a steady pace.
Before my lungs collapsed, I gasped. My body had forgotten that air was needed for survival, and light-headedness still had me in its grasp as Dion nipped at my pulse point. His sharp canines against my delicate skin delivered a delicious pang of pain, and they almost broke through my skin.
As the pressure vanished, a tendril brushed its tip against the lingering sting, soothing the tender spot. Another audible gasp propelled from my throat into the void, encouraging Dion and his magic to repeat their undertaking.
An inferno had roared to life in my core, and rational thinking threatened to abandon me in favor of endless desire.
No one had set me ablaze like this; no one had enchanted my senses, enraptured my body, and entranced my soul but him, and deep inside of me, the awareness that no one would be able to instill even a fraction of this rhapsody of delight ever again emerged with intrinsic clarity.
This male, this fae prince, was ruining me. And I—
I welcomed my ruin willingly, eagerly.
“He’ll meet his end soon.” Dion’s voice dripped like dark honey onto my skin between two biting kisses. “Racist, elitist pile of worthless fucking shit.”
The magic withdrew only slowly, exhibiting a reluctance befitting a creature unwilling to obey its master, and resembling a being sentient and alive.
Dion’s arms alone remained a fixture, banded around me unyieldingly.
Shudders ran down my spine, and every nerve ending sang a beautiful melody of surrender.
Suddenly, his lips disappeared. Instead, his forehead touched mine, a gesture so tender, the intimacy of the contact stole my breath while his chest heaved.
“One syllable from you, and I’ll defy him. Ask me, and I’ll take you to the ball.”
“Don’t. My comfort in this isn’t worth the trouble, Dion.”
His eyes blazed with an inner fire, and a very displeased growl accompanied his words. “No one talks shit about you, not even yourself.”
“Please. Somewhere underneath this angry, primal—I don’t even have the right term—beast must be some intelligence.
If you challenge Galrach, he’ll realize that we’re closer than we want him to apprehend.
But this charade is necessary. Only because of that did I lie to your grandfather as if my life depended on him buying into my act—which it probably did. ”
“And you were glorious. I’m still in total disbelief at what a liar slumbers in you, which is, by the way, somewhat unsettling.
” Dion raked his hand through his long hair in an almost boyish gesture.
“As far as I could tell, he didn’t even consider that you would dare not to speak the truth.
Hopefully, he assumes that you’re fully under my control, although I tricked you. ”
“So, you admit to tricking me, princeling?” My eyebrow rose, but I kept my tone teasing. He was still teetering on the edge, and enlivening his mood seemed like the right thing to do.
I was still trying to regain my sanity but wasn’t very successful, thanks to the fae prince who didn’t stop crowding me into a hard surface with the wall of muscle he called his body, his forehead glued to mine, and his breath tickling my face.
“No.”
“In a way, you did.”
“If I’d intended to mislead you, the rite would have failed.”
Oh Gods. Yes.
How could I have forgotten this piece of information the entire time? He…he’d never schemed to deceive me.
The last tiny fractures marring my trust were mending, not rapidly, but steadily.
Undeniably, Dion had omitted his heritage and his status, but as much as I’d pondered about everything during the past few days, I couldn’t find any malicious intent in his actions.
And gods, the confirmation that we wouldn’t have been tied if he’d manipulated me for power was the final missing snippet.
Even Amalach—after I’d met the High King, I couldn’t help but wonder if Dion hadn’t had a choice concerning his role in the destruction.
Although he was murderous, morally bankrupt, and ruthless, annihilating the entire population of a city without a reason?
As shrewd as he might be, uncertainty was buzzing under my skin. “Amalach. Did you…enjoy the attack?”
“Back then? No. That wasn’t an act of war, but slaughter.
Plus, I loved the City of Air. The whole place was beautiful.
Alive and different. So, the order hit me hard.
But in all honesty, not because of the lives lost. Those never held much value for me, and if I exterminated a city out of my own volition, one that deserves my ire, I’d take pleasure in the carnage. ”
My sight was hazy, and I stayed silent instead of trying to piece an answer together.
Dion then sighed. “Galrach called back most soldiers and loyalists before the massacre and schemed, on the other hand, so that a multitude of the loved ones of those who opposed his rule were in Amalach during the attack. But—that’s a story for another day.”
“In your own time,” I said, and the pads of my fingers caressed the silky softness of his nape.
“I’m here, and I’m not leaving.” A sigh formed in my lungs as I realized I was doing it again—I justified Dion’s atrocious morals by concentrating on the less gruesome facts and ignoring the other parts as best as I could.
And although I called myself out on this behavior, I couldn’t stop finding excuses for the prince.
Was I developing a blind spot for his cruelty?
I’d ponder over this at another opportunity.
Dion buried his face in the crook of my neck and relaxed against me.
We held each other, and when we let go to relocate over to the bed, day had already turned to night.
Not a single protest left my lips when Dion tucked me into his chest as if I were an oversized pillow, nor when a tendril wrapped around my wrist, resting its tip under my collarbone.
And even though we were far in enemy territory, sleep found me easily, deep in the embrace of my friend.