Chapter Thirteen
Alaya
The sound is deafening—a boom from above that shakes the entire Ballroom. Glass rains down in a deadly shower, tinkling bright against the marble floor.
Kiernan’s hand rips from mine. He’d just spun me in the dance, and I claw desperately to hold on, but my fingertips slip.
The last thing I see is his outstretched hand, the pain in his eyes.
Then I’m airborne, my dress billowing as I fly backwards.
I hit the marble floor hard, the crack against my spine instant and all-encompassing.
I keep sliding across the smooth marble until my head collides with something solid.
The dull thud makes my ears ring, layering fresh agony over everything else.
Then—nothing.
I come to propped against the Ballroom wall, panic flooding through me.
Have I damaged my ears?
I can see the chaos, but I’m watching it like a muted dream.
Faces everywhere, mouths open in silent screams.
A dark-haired Fae in a light blue dress crawls across the floor. The back of her gown hangs in tatters, the skin underneath shredded. Blood blooms like an opening flower, turning the silk crimson.
Thorn Guards swing their massive black shadow swords through the air, cleaving into flesh. Blood sprays. Body parts fly.
I push myself up the wall and try to stand, but my legs shake so violently I can’t hold my weight. I collapse back down.
Sound seeps back slowly, then roars all at once. Screams and shouts. The clashing ring of metal on metal. The insistent screech left over from the explosion. I clap my hands over my ears, trying to block it out as pain reverberates through my skull. It barely muffles the mayhem.
I force myself to focus on who the Thorn Guards are fighting, and a new wave of horror awakens in me.
The nearest Thorn Guard battles a tall, powerfully built Fae.
Pure strength—enormous muscles straining as he parries the Thorn Guard’s attack.
Thick leather straps crisscross his wide chest where a glowing green gem glints.
Leather vambraces cover thick forearms. He wears tight leather trousers, a belt low on his hips weighted down by an empty scabbard.
Long boots pound the floor as he leaps forwards again, brandishing a wicked curved sword.
His skin is tanned, smeared with dirt. His face scrunches with anger, highlighted by ungodly bright green eyes that seem to glow. But his features are otherworldly. Godlike. Handsome.
I’ve never seen one before, but I know instinctively what he is.
Equitae. Horse Shifter Fae.
The Thorn Guard gains the upper hand as they both whirl away into the chaos.
I know I need to get up or I’ll likely die here if the Equitae are here.
I try again, managing to stand upright while gripping the wall.
Pain radiates through every nerve, but I need to move.
When I feel more stable, I spot a fallen sword on the floor.
If I’m going to survive this, I’ll need to fight my way out.
I pick it up and grunt at the weight, but it will have to do.
I start towards the golden doors, staying close to the wall, out of the worst of the fighting. I trip over something and stumble. When I look down, I stifle a cry.
Daphne. The General’s wife. Wide-eyed and still, a jagged hole in her chest.
I gag, tasting bile, but swallow it back down. I step over her and continue.
This damn skirt is hampering me. I grab it with my spare hand and tug, ripping it in swathes.
It ends up short and ragged, but I can move freely now.
I swing up quickly to block a blow coming towards me, the clang reverberating down my arm.
A Thorn Guard brings his sword down on my attacker.
His head falls from his body. Blood sprays—hot drops hit my face and bare arms. His body crumples, and the Thorn Guard carries on, eyes devoid of emotion.
“Alaya!” I hear my name faintly across the noise.
I look over towards the voice and Kiernan stands near the main doors, sword in hand, face and hands covered in slick red blood. He has the audacity to grin wickedly at me, motioning to my dress alterations and nodding his approval. Sick bastard. But I’m glad he’s alive.
I continue towards him.
Then I feel it—an unusual pull in the pit of my stomach. A dull ache like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Not painful, but alive. It writhes like a living entity, pulling against my body towards the centre of the room.
Time stops.
An Equitae stands there, staring at me. The moonlight catches him in the middle of the room, surrounded by the bloody mayhem yet untouched by it all. Like he exists in his own bubble of reality.
He takes a few steps closer, confusion and wonder on his face. He doesn’t break my stare.
My mouth drops open slightly as he becomes clearer.
He is violence personified.
Long black hair, shaved close on the left side, exposes an ear pierced with several hoops.
His skin is tanned, marked by small, raised scars.
His eyes are blazing yellow, glowing faintly against high cheekbones.
Full lips curve in a smirk, his tongue playing with two hoops pierced through either side of his lower lip.
He’s tall but lean, his body lithe and graceful.
Black leather straps cross his chest where a bright yellow gem pulses.
His hand trails down his body with deliberate slowness, drawing my eyes to where a bulge strains against black leather trousers.
He’s the most beautiful Fae I’ve ever seen.
That strange pull inside me strains towards him, writhing tendrils trying to reach across the space between us.
My feet begin to move of their own accord, carrying me forwards without thought or permission.
His eyes go wild. That look of confusion and wonder morphs into something feral. Hungry.
We step towards each other. When he’s only a few paces away, I feel it—a blast of power that washes over me, making my skin erupt in goosebumps. The pull intensifies, a physical ache in my belly that demands I close the distance.
I’m about to take another step when fingers grip my forearm tight and spin me away. I collide with a hard chest. I look up quickly—Kiernan. He looks at me strangely, and I panic, wondering if he saw what just happened. But his arm comes up and embraces my shoulders.
“Run!” he shouts.
We run.
As we do, I feel another blast of that power—fainter this time, but still there. I look back over my shoulder.
The Equitae stands motionless, still staring after me. His yellow eyes burn through the chaos.
Then I hear it. A husky, sensual voice, so clear it’s as if spoken directly into my mind.
“Until next time.”
The words wrap around something deep inside me, and I know with absolute certainty—this isn’t over.
Not even close.
Prince Kiernan
She’s just standing there, staring at him.
I watch in horror as she turns and starts walking towards the Equitae.
I race forwards, stumbling over debris and bodies.
He’s so close he could grab her when I finally reach her side.
I spin her away by the arm, pulling her against me.
She looks up at me strangely, her gaze languid, almost sleepy. Then her eyes go wide with panic.
I need to get us out of here.
“Run!” I shout, my arm protective around her shoulders as we bolt towards the golden doors. We stumble and slide on blood that coats the marble like rivers.
Relief shoots through me as we blast through the doorway into the empty hall beyond.
We don’t stop. Our legs pound in unison, our breaths sharp and quick.
I remember a room I found while exploring the library—small, with a thick metal door that bolts from the inside. Hidden in the dark wooden panelling.
Perfect.
The library door bangs against the wall as I slam it open, making for the dark corner.
I pry my shaking fingers into the small gap and pull.
The door opens slowly. The room is pitch-black, thick with the smell of musty old books.
I leap in, pulling her behind me, and manage to slam the door shut and throw the bolt.
We slide to the floor, backs against the far wall. I pull her closer. She’s shaking. Our breaths are raspy as we listen for anyone who might have followed.
We’re safe.
We’re alive.
We sit there for what feels like ages, the only sound our breathing. The darkness presses in, oppressive.
“Kiernan—” Her voice trembles.
“Hold on.” I stand, hands searching the walls for the Faelight switch. When my fingers find it, I press it. The room fills with soft, glowing light.
She has her head down in her hands, shoulders shaking with soft sobs.
I walk over and crouch in front of her, my hand reaching out, caressing her cheek.
She looks up. My heart lurches. Her eyes brim with tears, and one traces its way through the blood splattered on her face. I wipe it away with my thumb.
“We’re safe, Princess.”
She cries for a while. My legs start to shake, so I stand and lean against the shelf lining one wall, giving her space. The room is small but not claustrophobic. Boxes of books fill the shelf. A dark wooden desk sits against the opposite wall.
Eventually, she wipes her face and stands.
“Sorry.” She smiles over at me. She’s a mess—blood splayed across her face and chest, her gown ripped and dirty, her hair a riot of curls with debris stuck in it.
She still looks hot as hell.
She walks to the desk and perches on the edge, leaning back and tipping her head up with a deep sigh.
I stare at that long, creamy neck, down to where her breasts strain against her bodice.
I bite back a groan as my cock stirs. This feels so inappropriate, considering what we just escaped from, and both thoroughly covered in other Fae’s blood, but I can’t help it.
“What happened back there with that Equitae?” The question comes out before I can stop it. I sound like a jealous idiot.