CHAPTER 14
KADE
Two Hundred Years Ago — Goreon Kingdom
GRACE JAMS THE TIP of a blade into our dining table as the two of us sit down for a late lunch, my fork rattling on my plate from the force of it.
The knife gleams beautifully, its black hilt honed with the Hunter crest and gold inlaid throughout, mimicking Hunter magic. It’s one of the most stunning weapons I’ve ever seen.
Then she stabs another into the wood beside it, its cream hilt carved with the same.
Twin blades.
“His and hers,” she croons.
I twist to look at her. “Which one is mine?” It’s a fair question, considering her favorite color is black.
“Your choice.”
I pluck the cream-hilted blade from the table and twirl it in my palm. “It’s lovely, Grace. Thank you.”
“Want to test it out?” she asks, stepping back.
I adjust my grip and fling it across the room, the blade landing dead center at the top of the doorway to the living room.
Riot halts midstride through the frame, mouth popping open and eyes narrowing on me. “Are you trying to kill me?!” he yells, reaching up and yanking the blade from the molding.
“Not today,” I deadpan.
Riot spins the blade on his palm, leaning against the wall. “She’s a beaut.”
“Give it back,” I demand.
“Or what?” he challenges.
Grace’s blade is airborne before his teasing smile fully forms, the edge of his tunic now pinned to the wall at his waist.
Riot scoffs. “Seriously, Grace?! This is my nicest shirt!”
She shrugs. “Give the blades back. I got you something, too.”
Riot’s face lights up like a child’s on Winter Solstice.
“Well, where is it?” he asks, spinning to glance around the kitchen, his shirt shearing.
He groans, looking back at the torn fabric.
After freeing Grace’s blade and his shirt, he flings both blades at us, and we catch them with ease between our fingertips.
Grace jerks a chin toward the door. “Check the hall closet.”
Riot’s lumbering form is gone before I blink.
“Oh. My. Gods!” he yells from the entryway.
Boots rush back our way, and Riot reappears with a crossbow custom built for his size, which is large.
“You shouldn’t have,” he drawls, cheeks rosy as he eyes Grace over the weapon aimed at my face. The crossbow fires, and my body sings with magic as I snatch the bolt from the air an inch from my nose.
Riot pales and backs up a step, clearing his throat. “Guess the safety was off.”
“Guess so,” I growl.
Grace doubles over in laughter as Master Hull saunters into the kitchen, Riot stepping behind him and using the old man as protection.
“What’s going on in here?” Master asks, eyeing our weapons.
“Just appreciating Grace’s excellent taste,” Riot says, face scrunched in apprehension.
I shake my head at him. “Just our Central station leader failing the basics today, Master.”
Riot’s eyes grow wide in embarrassment.
“It’s nothing, Papa,” Grace says. “Can I serve you lunch?”
“Don’t fuss, I’ll get it,” he says, grabbing a bowl.
Admiring my new blade, I turn to Master at the stove. “Did you get what I asked for?”
“Aye,” he says, setting down his bowl and unclipping a ring of keys from his belt. “Standard sizing and all twenty options we know to exist in the stronghold. Might take you a minute, but I’m confident they’ll open that door.”
“Thank you, Master.”
He grips my shoulder. “You’re welcome, son.”
I swallow the scratch in my throat, thankful for the forgiveness he seems to have given me over Sam’s capture.
“And I’m going with you tonight,” he says, squeezing my shoulder harder.
My eyebrows pinch. “No, you aren’t.”
He pins me with a stern look. “I have a handful of years left at best, and my legacy is not dying in our fortress overseeing the dead, dusty books and sweaty trainees. I will fight to rescue my own son. And no one will take that from me.”
Fuck. Can’t argue with that.
I swing my attention to Grace. The death of her father puts her in charge.
A tear slides down her cheek. “Papa, I’m not ready to lose you.”
“Lose me?” Master shakes his head. “That’s uncertain. But participating in the opportunity of centuries is certain. I want my own chance at that king, too.”
Grace shudders an exhale, like she’s already trying to battle the grief. “Nothing will change your mind?”
“I’m as sure as your mother’s ashes are in the Sereia Sea.”
Grace’s emerald eyes gleam. “I understand.”
I wrap a hand around the back of Grace’s neck, and her beautiful face turns to me. “We should get ready.”
She nods. “Aye.”
Taking Grace’s hand, I lead us down to the basement, where our armor and weapons have been staged so we can dress in private.
“May I adorn you?” she asks softly, eyes skirting to the cabinet at the edge of the room.
I swallow. “I’d be honored.”
Grace glides across the basement to the credenza and pulls open the drawer, fetches the satchel, and pulls the brushes first, then the tin.
“Stand near the light,” she commands, face solemn.
Stripping my shirt, I pad over to the torch and turn to face my wife.
Grace runs the handle of the brush down my sternum before meeting my eyes.
“Are you ready, Captain?” she says, her smile reaching in and consoling my nerves around what’s ahead of us tonight.
I nod, eyes gleaming, and my voice comes out low and certain: “Yes.”
Grace dips the tip of the brush in the tin held in her palm and touches it to my skin, drawing the brush tip up my arm, the staining paint trailing in a thin blue line along my muscle.
“Listen to me, Captain Kade,” she demands, and I lose myself in her eyes. “Your mind is as strong as the physical body you’ve honed.” She drags the brush across my clavicle. “You’ve mastered both, and you will lead us into our future tonight. You will become the man this world needs.”
The brush travels down my chest and over my heart.
“You are brave. You are worthy.”
She dips the brush into the tin, scooping paint before dragging the tip up my neck, over my jaw, and up my cheek, her smile cracking through her fervor. “You will herald the era of the Hunter.”
Every bristle of the brush is fire to my skin, and my magic twirls, listening to Grace and responding with the same fervor.
“Be sharp, be fearless, be the warrior you were born to be.” Grace crosses the brush over my chest. “May your blades carry you to victory.”
Her eyes pin to mine, and I capture her green gaze like I’m starving for the adoration in it.
“Forever may we reign, Captain Kade.”
I swallow, my voice hoarse. “Forever may we reign,” I promise.
Grace sets the brush in the tin while I draw my fingertips up her arm, bumps crawling in my wake.
“Your turn,” I whisper.
Adorning a Hunter is one thing, but adorning an Heir—not many get that honor, and I’m the only one in this generation who will. I’ve looked forward to this day our entire relationship, and I’ve thought about every word I would say.
Grace turns away so I can work the laces loose on her bodice.
I tug the fabric over her head and then her shirt, and my eyes consume her, bare before me.
My fingers trail her spine, the curve of her plunging me into primal worship as I run my hand along her waist, gripping her hip to spin her gently.
“Are you ready, Grace Hull?”
Sparkling eyes meet mine. “Yes,” she says, conviction reverberating in the silence of the basement.
I take the tin and brush from her and dip the bristles. My forefinger lifts her chin, and I grin as I press the brush against her temple and draw the first line across her brow.
“You are the Heir,” I begin. “You carry the blood of our ancestors in your veins and ruthless warrior strength in your heart.”
I draw the brush down Grace’s throat. “You are the soul of the Hunters, the beat of our rhythm, the breath in our chest.”
The paint leaves a line of blue down the center of her sternum, and I stroke across her ribs.
“You possess the strongest magic, the fiercest voice, and the will of us all. We will follow you into any battle and defend you on any cliff. Our swords will be the first to fall for your victory.”
I paint around her joyful, tear-filled eyes.
“I honor you now, Grace Hull, Heir of the Hunters, with the paint of our people and the love in my soul. Forever may you reign.”
Her mouth parts, and she grabs the paint tin and tosses it to the side before slamming her body into mine and kissing me with a fire I’m privileged to try to handle. I savor the feel of her lips and the press of her against me, needing her more than ever.
I lift Grace, and her legs lock around my hips, gripping me with everything she has as her hands tangle in my hair and tip my head back from her lips.
“We’ll change the world, Kade. We were brought together for a reason.”
I smile into her mouth. “Yes. We were,” I say and pull her back to my lips.
My magic celebrates, golden raindrops splashing.
Grace moans into my mouth, tongue threading with mine, her hands everywhere, leaving fire in their wake. She writhes against me, clutching me with her entire being, and rips a groan from my throat at the feel of her.
I lift Grace off my hips, our paint blended from our passion, and fall to my knees before her, tugging off her boots and snatching down her pants, throwing them behind me.
My fingertips sweep up her legs, and I dip my head to graze my mouth along her inner thigh, touching the soft skin that makes her buck and beg.
“You’re perfection,” I growl, my lips trailing to her upper thigh, soft skin teasing me toward insanity.
Grace hums, eyes closing as her head tips back, and my fingers find her center—the core that beckons me every waking moment.
A gasp escapes her alluring mouth, my want becoming feral, and I watch her intently as I slide two fingers inside her, curling into her favorite spot.
“You’re so ready for me,” I say as satisfaction ripples through me.
Her hands grip my shoulders, and the gleam in her eyes makes me throb against the constraint of my trousers.