Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jack
Istepped out into the night, barefoot and shirtless, rock and snow digging into my feet as I thundered across the camp. My skin prickled with every whip of wind, but I didn’t care that I was half-naked. My body could handle the cold. What I couldn’t handle was the wildfire still burning inside me.
Sylvi’s scent clung to me like a second skin, one I knew I’d never be able to wash off—never want to wash off.
And gods, the taste of her… Delicate. Addictive.
Forbidden. Like vyrnabloom nectar harvested from the rare vyrna blossom that only grew once a century beneath the moon’s glow.
Sweeter than sin, enough to drive a fae male mad with desire.
That’s what Sylvi had done to me—one taste and I’d become intoxicated.
She still lingered on my tongue, making me want more and more.
More of my tongue inside her core. More of her thighs trembling, the sound of her moans vibrating off my shoulders as I took her over the edge, making her come in my mouth, her entire body shuddering with her release.
Blasted Hel, then came her whispered plea…
Make me yours. Ruin me for all others.
Náldrún curse me, I’d wanted to bury myself so deep inside her, my cock still throbbed thinking about her words, her heat, her wetness.
I’d been seconds away from losing control.
From tearing apart every rule, every vow, every obligation just to feel her tightness wrapped around me.
I’d almost taken her body, knowing full well I couldn’t keep her.
Couldn’t give her the future she deserved.
Not while I was the Prince of Skadgard, promised to another.
Not while war loomed and secrets still curdled in the dark.
And it had been those last words—Ruin me for all others—that broke the spell.
It was a reminder that while I had been her beginning, I’d never be her end.
And that truth shattered me.
Because what would be the point of all this? Of taking this moment for ourselves? Of satisfying that undeniable, inflamed sexual hunger, that need to claim each other, if tomorrow morning I’d go back to being the prince and she the captain.
There would be no point.
Joining our bodies would only invite torture. The torture of knowing I’d never be able to taste her again. Of knowing I’d never be able to tell the whole godsdamned world she was mine.
Mine. Mine. Fucking mine.
Because one day she would belong to another, and that would be the day my soul would die an infinite number of shearing deaths.
Before I realized it, I’d passed the outer ring of the camp in my haste to get as far away from Sylvi as I could.
Two guards stood at post, alert, hands resting on the hilts of their blades. They saluted stiffly when they saw me approach, but I barely nodded, and they must’ve seen the angry silver-blue light in my eyes because neither said anything as I marched past the gates.
My magic still flared over the ice walls in threads of frostfire, keeping the cursed wolves and wraiths at bay—for now.
Thankfully, now that my wounds were completely healed, my magic had returned in full force, though I’d used a considerable amount to erect the walls and to fight off the beasts in the forest.
Ahead, the lake’s surface shimmered, a mirror of fractured, frozen black glass stretching beneath a starless sky.
I came to a slow stop at the shore and stared at the stillness, my chest heaving from the roaring rage inside my chest. I looked to the heavens and begged the gods to yank this yearning out of my chest. This soul-searing need to have her, or I swore I was going to run back into that tent and ravish her body until nothing remained of either of us, damning our souls to fucking Hel.
As I continued to stare out over the lake, a memory returned: Sylvi falling through the ice, her limp form, Moonshadow gleaming in my hand as I plunged it into the wraith’s skull.
When I’d given her that blade, I’d promised her that she would be the only person I’d ever bleed for. Ever yield to.
I’d not lied. Only Sylvi would ever hold the power to knock me to my knees.
I looked back across the lake, to the gaping, scraggly hole in the ice where she’d been yanked through by that wraith before she’d disappeared beneath the water’s surface.
A knot tightened in my chest, remembering how that invisible tether had pulled on my soul, and I hadn’t thought twice before diving in after her.
In the moment I’d stabbed the creature, I’d not cared that the depths had claimed the weapon, but now?
My magic flared, and again, I didn’t think twice before diving into the lake once more, plunging into its abyss, the cold enveloping me in a silence that felt both holy and cursed.
Pressure pushed against my lungs, the icy weight pressing against my ribs. Not even my royal blood nor my magic could shield me from it entirely.
But I welcomed the stabbing cold, the ache in my chest, the pain in my ears.
Down here, in these punishing frigid depths, the edge of my rage finally dulled, and I could think clearly.
Maybe there was time to salvage things with Sylvi. Maybe there was still a way to preserve our friendship.
Perhaps what we needed right now was a little distance.
I kept sinking and sinking, the blue light of my frost magic guiding me through the darkness until I finally reached the lakebed. There, its hilt tangled in a nest of weeds, I found Moonshadow. I reached for it, and that’s when I saw the body.
Torin.
Bloated. Pale. His lips blue, eyes frozen wide in horror. His death had been anything but peaceful.
I gripped the seax and the collar of his armor, and kicked toward the surface, muscles burning with every stroke. Around me, ghostly shapes began to take form. They swam alongside me, close enough I could see their white, skeletal faces, but far enough that I couldn’t stab them.
“He returns to us… Son of Ice… Lord of Shadows… Break the curse… Free us…”
Their whispers traveled through the water, muffled, but distinguishable.
I kicked and kicked until I finally broke through the surface, gasping. I dragged Moonshadow and Torin’s body to shore, and even as I hauled Torin’s corpse up the icy bank, I still heard them.
Their voices rasped against the edges of my mind like barbed wire.
Not words, not truly. Echoes. Whispers pulled from some old place deep inside me, from whatever thread connected my soul to theirs.
They wanted me to free them from their watery tomb.
And a sick part of me, tucked away in a shadowy corner of my heart, wanted to answer their call.
I didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge them. I just hoisted Torin’s body over my shoulder and carried him back to camp.
The guards came running when they saw me. They lifted Torin from my arms and promised to prepare him for dawn. I kept walking back toward my tent, where the weight I’d left behind was heavier than anything I’d carried from the lake.
My heart squeezed tight as I pushed the tent flap aside. Sylvi lay curled beneath the furs, facing away from me. I’d wondered if I’d even find her still in my pavilion. A part of me had expected to find her at the edge of the lake, waiting for me to surface, ready to rip me a new one.
That scenario would’ve probably been better than this. An angry, ready to spar Sylvi I knew how to manage, but this version?
I stood still as a statue, but inside, every piece of me broke.
I’d allowed my sexual hunger for her to cloud my judgment, and I’d hurt her deeply tonight.
How the Hel were we supposed to come back from this?
Back at the lake, I thought maybe there was a way to salvage our friendship, but looking at her now, I wasn’t sure how I could go on being her best friend and not remember the taste of her lips, her skin. The feel of her body.
The way her moans had stirred my primal instincts. How could I even tolerate being near her and not be able to touch her and kiss her?
Her breathing seemed even, and it eased the pain in my chest a little to know she’d been able to fall asleep.
I wanted to imagine she was dreaming of the winter festival with all its treats, and not wraiths and monsters.
Of warmth and happiness, not the cold fist I’d wrapped around her heart tonight.
And that was the moment, I knew I couldn’t do this. Not to her. Even if war didn’t loom and this marriage alliance didn’t exist, there was still the harsh reality of who and what we were. I was a royal fae with a life expectancy that could span centuries. Sylvi… She would…
I couldn’t even finish the thought without wetness coating my eyes.
Wiping harshly at the tears beaded at the corners, I watched her for one more minute, inhaling the sweetness of her scent still lingering in the air.
Then I laid Moonshadow by her trunk, grabbed dry clothes for myself and my boots, then made for the exit.
Reaching for the tent flap, my fingers hovered, my breath catching, shallow and tight in my throat.
One step. That’s all it would take. Just one step forward, and I could climb beneath the furs, slide in beside her, wrap my arms around her waist, and sink into the comfort of her body, her warmth.
But if I did, I knew I wouldn’t stop there. I’d kiss her again. I’d lose myself again. And there would be no pulling back from that edge.
Not when I was this close to leaping.
So, I gripped the flap tighter and swallowed the ache pounding behind my ribs.
Because if I went back to her now, it wouldn’t be for warmth or comfort. It would be for need and hunger. For everything I wasn’t allowed to have.
And I would never forgive myself if I ended up hurting her again just to soothe myself.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the dark.
And I left.