Chapter 10
Kaden
Well then.
There’s a gleam of metal, a flick of a wrist and then the euphoria of blood, making my eyes see red and my gums ache. The beast inside my chest stirs, yawns and stretches, as if that little bit of blood was enough to pull the monster forward.
It’s not often that happens.
Her blood smells divine, like ripe berries on a hot summer day. Full of flavor, of juice, of life, that my mouth waters, stomach grumbling with want. Fangs drip over my lip and I have to stop myself from lurching forward, to pull the lord from the advisor’s delicious neck.
Grabbing the wall, I will the haze to lift, for the fangs to disappear. For the beast to remain shackled. I’ve never had to hold on so tightly to my control before—not since I was a young Fae.
My body shakes as I push aside the beast, and exhale, willing the scent of blood to leave.
I’ve gone too long since feeding, if the beast is this ravenous after just a few drops. If I let this continue, I’ll be nearly uncontrollable, driven mad with bloodlust.
And that’s not an option.
After a few breaths to tighten my control over my cursed soul, I glance back to the advisor. Her spine straightens, shoulders back as the lord leans forward.
Another kind of beast roars in my chest, possessiveness rising at seeing this scum closing in on this female. Judging from the look in his eye, the sneer on his face, it’s not the weather he wants to discuss.
One of his hands grabs at her ample chest and I react, body stepping forward to intercept. I’ll break every single finger that dared to touch her person.
But then, I stop, entranced by the woman as she kicks out with a vicious strike, slamming her heel into his shin. There’s a sick crack before she bangs her forehead into his nose, blood covering the fool’s face.
He curses the woman out and I grin. Her brutality is refreshing.
Then, she raises her hands over her head and the man jerks, arms pinned to his side, head at an odd angle.
How is that possible?
Tilting my head, I rest against the stone, watching her fingers dangle, like a puppeteer moving invisible strings of a worn puppet on a small stage. They bend and twist into unnatural ways, and his body responds.
She’s violent and unflinching, a beautiful menace who hovers before the man, dictating his moves. The feel of power, raw, untapped potential, slams into me.
Magic. She has magic.
She’s wicked and bloodthirsty, her blue eyes cold and hard as she moves the man. She wants to slaughter him and my beast preens at the ferocity.
I didn’t expect this from her.
It only takes a few seconds, but then the man drops and she’s on him, tiny fists gripping his collar. Putting the dagger to his throat, she seethes, spewing angry words.
My groin tightens. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. She looks so meek and mild, but underneath that mask is a lioness, ready to spill blood.
The man nods promptly, face red, spit dripping down his chin, mixing with his toxic blood.
The fear wafting from him is as intoxicating as the sight the small woman makes.
Her black, almost violet hair, hangs over her face, highlighting her blood red lips and the crystal blue of her eyes. They shine like diamonds.
But it’s the tips of her fingers that catch my attention.
So red, they look to have dipped in a bloody puddle. What power does she possess to do that?
My inner beast stills, intrigued as much as me. The power I feel, I can sense it twisting in her body, like a dark chaotic wave of fury. It calls to me just as strongly as her blood.
What is she? And why do I react like this?
Is this why I followed her out into the hall? I could sense her magic, though didn’t know it?
Shoving the man away, she stands while he stumbles, leg bent. She didn’t lay more than two hits on him and yet he looks as if he’s faced an entire legion on his own. I’m impressed. I was completely wrong about her and that makes her even more appealing.
Heaving, she leans against the wall, red fingers gripping the stone. She is a sight. A vengeful spirit, something dark and alluring with a bloody line across her chin. Such a wicked monster in sheep’s clothing.
Striding over, clapping, I watch her jump, eyes narrowed. A sheen of perspiration dots her brow and it’s those lips, so bright and lush, that hold my attention.
They look like the ripe berry her blood smells like.
“Impressive,” I murmur, tongue darting out to lick my bottom lip. “Not such a defenseless kitten after all.”
She glares. The fire in her eyes is a direct correlation to the fire in my gut at her nearness.
The same fire that dances between us. That compelled me to touch her in the hall. This pull, this heat, it sears me to the bone at her nearness. My lungs stutter as if my breath is stuck.
She steps back, as if burned. She must feel it too.
“What?”
“That display.” My eyes fall to her hands as she shoves them into her cloak, pulling the hood over her face. She’s hiding. Do others not know of her magic or is she ashamed? “What did you do to him?”
She shifts, avoiding my gaze. “Nothing. I did nothing.”
Stepping closer, I cage her against the wall, daring her to move me.
Lifting her hand, I hold it to my face. Five long fingers, some marked with pale burn scars, catch my attention. The red on her fingertips fades, disappearing right before my eyes, sinking back to where it comes from.
“Then what’s this?”
She bites her bottom lip, fear so strong in her eyes, I nearly crumble. Is this from the attack, or from me?
Smiling, I lean close, inhaling her spicy violet scent. It reminds me of the heat of my homeland and the gardens that surround it.
She may be frightened, but it certainly isn’t of me. No, she’s all predator, a twin to the monster inside my heart.
A drop of scarlet falls over her pulse point and my nose flares, eyes trailing it over the deep scar around her throat.
Swallowing, I shove her away, and with it, the temptation to drink from her. No matter how alluring she might be, I’ve worked too hard for my control to let it slip now.
Her eyes flare at the quick release, confused.
“I can’t hear you,” she whispers, voice cracking.
Her shoulders drop, exhaustion lining her face. She looks to have had a rather well night. Perhaps with the Matriarch’s brother.
I saw their touches, their silent communications. There’s a bond between them that I’m not privy too and it sours my gut, tinting my vision green.
Why would it matter to me? She’s not mine to claim.
“I said—”
“No, I heard that.” She scoffs, ignoring my glare. “But I can’t hear you.” She emphasizes, eyes falling to my heart. She stares and her opposite hand, now devoid of red rests lightly on my chest. “Well. Maybe not hear. Feel. Sense.”
Her touch scalds me and I have to fight off a flinch.
What is that?
It’s infuriating as well as intoxicating. I’m not sure if I like it.
“What is it you do not hear, kitten?” I mumble, voice deep. I grab her wrist and push it firmly into the muscles that tense under her palm. “What do you not sense?”
Like a bucket of cold water fell on us, she freezes, eyes widening in shock. Jerking away, she puts too many steps between us. The air crackles and pops, like a fire trying to be put out, tension so thick it wraps me into a suffocating hug.
Yet, I can still feel her, the sizzling heat, the embers of attraction.
When I look back into her face, those wide eyes are narrowed, mouth twisted as she gnaws on her lip. Whatever she meant, she was never supposed to say aloud.
“Nothing.” She turns on her heel, fleeing from me.
Smirking, I prop myself against the castle wall, watching her go. I may have come to find a weapon to destroy the king, but the advisor has made things that much more interesting.