48. Thyra
Chapter Forty-Eight
Thyra
Antony’s lips crash against my throat, his sharp fangs sliding across my vulnerable neck.
A heartbeat later, his fangs retract, his hungry lips moving from the base of my throat up to my earlobe, his tongue grazing my skin, his kisses sending pulsing shivers down my spine and into my suddenly throbbing core.
One of his hands cups the back of my head, the other pressing against the small of my back, aligning my pelvis with his hard length while his tongue plunders my mouth and he devours my suddenly dizzy breaths.
“Was that thorough enough?” he rumbles against my lips, inhaling deeply against my skin before he plants a final, light-as-feathers kiss on my tingling neck.
My core aches and my heart hammers and I want, more than anything, to say, No, not nearly enough.
The pain in his eyes shakes me from the grip of desire.
Prying his hands away from my back, I rise, my feet planted on either side of his thighs, and stand over him.
His hands curl around my calves, his thumbs stroking the naked skin that my armor exposes to his touch.
With effort, I turn my focus to Stellen, holding out my arm to him. He has remained on his guard, his swords ready, and thank the Goddess for that, because I could have easily lost my mind to Antony’s kisses.
Stellen’s upper blade glides across the air, landing the lightest prick on my wrist.
So expertly performed that the cut is near painless.
Blood rises to the surface of my skin.
Antony’s hands tighten painfully around my legs, his eyes flooding black again and his fangs rapidly descending.
If I thought I might be in danger before, I was delusional.
Now is when the danger starts.
Extending my arm downward and curving my palm, I direct the blood to flow to the tips of my middle fingers, dripping directly between Antony’s lips.
He jolts as he swallows, one hand jerking away from my calf and up toward my bleeding hand, as if he would yank that hand toward himself. He stops when Stellen moves closer, his blades ready to strike.
“You already kissed me, remember?” I whisper to Antony, allowing my blood to flow, ensuring every drop reaches Antony’s lips. “Drink.”
With every drop, the color returns to his cheeks and his skin begins to knit, new skin forming across the burns.
I watch carefully the wound at his heart. The real test will be whether or not my blood can heal him there.
My hope fades when the wound on his chest remains raw and red, although his skin does pull together, closing a little.
I can’t hide my disappointment, but Antony doesn’t seem so bothered. Probably because his fundamental strength is returning, his eyes brightening, his mind clearly working faster because he shoots a glance at Stellen before saying, “Don’t cut off my hand.”
With that, Antony reaches for my bloody fingers, slowly lifting himself up onto his knees, gradually drawing my hand toward his mouth.
He pulls my forefinger between his lips, sucking gently on the least bloodied digit before dipping his tongue into the blood now pooling in my cupped palm, lapping at my skin.
“You’ve given me enough, Thyra,” he murmurs, casting another sharp glance at Stellen, who swiftly returns his swords to their scabbards and takes my bleeding arm.
Stellen’s frost power razes sharply across my wrist, cauterizing the wound, a swift pain I welcome, as it stops the blood flow.
He passes my hand back to Antony without spilling a drop of the final trickle of blood gathering in my cupped palm.
Antony buries his mouth against my palm, licking off every last smear and then lingering, planting small kisses around the sealed wound at my wrist and along my arm to the crease inside my elbow.
Lifting his gaze to mine as he continues kneeling, he presses my hand to his heart, right across his wound.
The black poison drains from his eyes, leaving his irises emerald green but somehow more shadowed, a haunting that pins me to the spot.
“You are my hope, Thyra,” he says. “I would rather lay down my life than hurt you. Let the blood bind take my strength. I don’t fucking care. My life is yours.”
My throat tightens, my heart hurting as he rises to his feet, keeping my palm pressed to his chest, his gaze unwavering. A fierce conviction burns in his eyes.
All of my fears well up within me, but now they rise like a dam before it empties and drains away. I struggle to speak through my tears, my relief, and then the enormous weight of trust both Antony and Stellen are giving me.
“I want… I need…” I bite my lower lip, trying to find the words when my body has other ideas and my legs buckle.
Both Antony and Stellen move in, Stellen’s arm wrapping around my stomach from behind and Antony’s arm wrapping across the small of my back, each of them closing in tight before I can fall.
Slowly, we sink to the floor together, their heads bowed on either side of me, their embrace supporting me. Wrapping me in a safety I never expected to feel.
Quietly, so softly I’m not sure if Antony will hear, Stellen breathes the lightest melody at my ear, his power soothing the ache in my heart.
I breathe in the warmth, the comfort, and what feels like…love.
“Stay with me,” I whisper. “No more fighting. No more conflict.”
I listen for a change in their heartbeats, uncertain if they’ll pull away from me, but they remain calm.
Antony rumbles at my ear. “Stellen, do you remember what I said to you in the Frost Kingdom?”
Stellen replies, “Too well.”
When they fall silent again, I ask, “What did you speak about in the Frost Kingdom?”
Neither man responds immediately.
Then Stellen says, “We have power over your fate.”
Antony continues. “The least we can do is ask you: what do you want?”
What do I want?
Another sob tears out of me. I don’t try to suppress my tears. I’m not afraid to cry in front of them both. They’ve made me feel completely safe. Allowed to become a sobbing mess if that’s what I need.
My throat is tight with both pain and warmth. Oh, these conflicting sensations. “I need to stop this blood bind and heal your hearts. I will fight this dark magic with everything I have until…” My eyes widen with a sudden realization. “Wait…”
“Thyra?” Antony’s voice rumbles at my other ear, his lips pressed to my neck, completely unthreatening.
I speak carefully, working through my thoughts.
“The blood bind strikes when I’m sleeping.
Or if I’m awake when it strikes, it sends me into a dark sleep.
But the last vision I had was… I don’t know, three?
Three days ago. I spent two of those days unconscious.
Has a blade vision struck either of you during that time? ”
Antony’s shoulders move in a shrug, but he doesn’t budge, staying right where he is. “I was unconscious for most of that. I couldn’t tell you.”
“Unconscious? What happened?”
His kiss soothes my sudden agitation. “I can tell you later. Not important now.”
Stellen’s hold on me hasn’t changed, both men seeming determined to stay right where they are, cocooning me, but he says, “I spent that time working with Maxim. He wasn’t in my sight at all times, but I wasn’t pulled into a blade vision and I don’t think he was, either.”
An intense hope rises within me. “Two of the kings.”
“Thyra?” Stellen nudges my ear insistently.
“I broke through the blood bind’s darkness during my last blade vision,” I say. “The False Queen was unsettled by it. Oh, she hid it well, but I’m certain she was startled. She let slip something about two of you being with me. That was you and Antony.”
“That’s true,” Antony rumbles. “I was surprised when you collapsed, but the vision didn’t strike me.”
I’m near trembling now. “These threads that connect us, the blood bind must be using them to drain your power. But somehow, if two of you are together, the dark power can be disrupted. Which means…”
I don’t know if it’s enough that two of them be together in the same place or if they need to be with me. I have no certainty at all, but I’m not taking any chances until I can remove the bind altogether.
Suddenly, I’m trying to wrap my arms around them, both at once, a sharp command leaving my lips. “You’re staying with me.”
My arms aren’t big enough and even with all my strength, I can’t pin these two men down, expecting them, even now, to try to extricate themselves from this embrace.
Neither of them moves, but I’m not taking any chances. Turning my head and trying not to collide with either of them as my gaze clashes with theirs, one after the other, I say, “I need you both to stay with me.”
They draw breath at the same time, as if they would speak, but I’m not finished. Urgently, I plant a kiss on Antony’s jaw. “I need your ruthlessness and your uncompromising violence. I need your ability to weave lies and your limitless capacity to endure and inflict pain.”
Turning my head, I press my lips to Stellen’s cheek.
“I need your icy power, your heartrending songs, and your fierce loyalty. I need the kindness you hide beneath a cloak of cruelty and the ferocious protection you offer those you love.” I try to breathe.
“I need you both. Here. With me. Fighting beside me.”
“Thyra.” They say my name at the same time.
I’m suddenly acutely aware of a deep silence between them. The nearly imperceptible inclination of their heads at each other. Some sort of unspoken agreement.
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Antony says, and it means a lot coming from him.
“We may not be kings anymore,” Stellen whispers, “but you are the kingdom we would serve and lay down our lives for.” The corners of his mouth twitch upward. “Queendom, if you wish.”
“I can’t promise we won’t question you or challenge you or sometimes we might even defy you,” Antony says, “but you are the heart of our world now, Thyra.”
He exhales against my neck, the lightest tingling sensation. “For a long time, all I wanted was to break the curse. Then I struggled with the good you brought into my life. Now, all I want is you.”
“Command us, Thyra,” Stellen says, his voice growing in strength, his power ringing in my ears like a sweet chime, making me catch my breath again, but this time with anticipation.
Stellen’s lips curve upward before he presses a seductive kiss to my shoulder, the melody of his voice and my suddenly ragged breathing parting the threads for his mouth. “Tell us what you want.”