Chapter 33
The sky is transitioning to pink when Isra and I stumble our way back to the fortress. Whiskey burns on my tongue still as I walk on sluggish steps up the front gardens, now restless in the early hour.
“Gods, Nova, Smoke sounds horrible if I’m being honest. How in the ten hells did you withstand it that long?
” Isra takes a swig of the half empty bottle he swiped from behind the bar.
Abe’s bartender—who I still haven’t learned the name of—growled a string of profanities but got real quiet when Isra slipped a stipennote across the sticky counter with a devilish grin.
We’d been meandering through the sleepy streets of Shadow since, shit talking and stumbling. Neither of us have any business being this intoxicated, not with every obstacle the morning will bring, but an escape of normalcy is one I welcome with open arms.
“It’s easy to build up walls, and mine are maybe a bit too fortified.” I wrap my arms around my chest. The chill in the air is ripe and yellowed leaves scatter on the breeze as we approach the courtyard gate, its iron hinges sparkling with frost.
“Is that why you haven’t mentioned what happened in Storm? With Lightbrood?” Isra’s expression softens with understanding. The mention of Yaris’s name catches me for a moment, stealing my breath. His lifeless eyes. The blood tinting his silver hair. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Yes.” My chest aches with the pain left ignored. I know eventually it’ll break through—my demons always do—but I pray I’m far from here when that day comes.
“You don’t have to grieve alone, you know? Just because I almost killed you once doesn’t mean I’m not going to support you,” he says.
My brow raises. “If I recall correctly, it was more than once.”
He chuckles and brings the whiskey to his lips. “Okay, maybe twice, but you’re deflecting.”
“You’re right, I am.” My fingers tighten their grip around my biceps. “I can’t go there yet.”
“And that’s fair. When you’re ready—Jace, me—we’ll be here. I can’t speak for the little viper, but she’ll come around.” He passes the bottle to me.
The whiskey burns as it trickles down my throat, igniting goose flesh on the back of my arms. My head spins with a sleepless night as we follow the winding path to the side entrance, and slip quietly into the arboretum. The interior slumbers under unlit sconces and a quiet warmth.
Isra slides into an armchair by the window. His chestnut curls fall over his brow as he drapes his arms behind his head. The twin lines sculpting his hips peek from his waistband with the stretch.
Fuck.
I rip my eyes from their wandering stare and sink into the armchair opposite him.
Maybe it’s the whiskey talking or the lazy way he’s watching me, but gods the man is breathtaking.
Strong muscle and smooth skin. Soft and compassionate all at once.
Of the three of them, Isra’s shown me kindness without doubt.
He’s been here this whole damn time, without any indication he intends on leaving.
My body clenches around the devious thoughts unraveling in my head.
I am way too intoxicated for this.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He draws his tongue over his teeth.
“Like what?” My cheeks heat and I take another swig from our shared recklessness.
“Like you want to come over here and see where the night goes once we’ve reached the bottom of that bottle.” He throws me a pointed look, flecks of golden mischief gleaming in his eyes.
He’s right. I do. I want those massive hands on me, exploring every inch of my skin, but I can’t. Not like this. I’m drunk and lonely, and he’s right there. The glint in his eyes tells me his thoughts match my own, but I keep my ass firmly planted in my seat.
“Is, I…” My throat dries. He stares at me with nothing less than scorched desire.
“I know. You don’t have to say anything. I’m not your type,” he says, parroting Roe’s words from earlier.
“No, it’s not that. I just…I’m not a good person. And this”—I gesture between us—“is something I can’t ruin. You’re my only friend here, and I won’t risk that. Besides, I’ll be gone in a few weeks, and if we did this well…”
“It would be harder to say goodbye.”
I nod, if only to keep from spilling the truth of it. Fucking Isra would be easy. All I have to do is take the few steps between us.
It’s not a difficult goodbye that keeps me still. Regardless of if he shared my bed, walking away wouldn’t be difficult—no second thoughts, no lingering glances over my shoulder. I fully intend on disappearing, leaving this place, these people behind, and he doesn’t deserve that.
“Let’s get some sleep. I’ve definitely had too much to drink.” He clears his throat and offers a hand to me.
“Thanks,” I whisper, gluing my eyes to his. The silence between us begs to burn. Dawn’s light tints his face in warm, gilded hues, and my skin fucking pleads to be touched.
“For what it’s worth Nova…” His lips part, watching me battle my body and mind. “I don’t think you’re a bad person.”
“Goodnight, Isra.”
My head spins as I climb the steps to bed, storming with reckless thoughts. I almost fucked Isra…the one ally I truly have here. I need an escape, but I couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to cross that line. What would it have made me? Heartless? Reckless? Cruel?
But those hands, those eyes, those lips. Isra was right fucking there, ready and willing. I sigh and click the lock behind me as I enter my bedchamber.
My skin blazes hotter than brimstone as I peel off the sweat-glistened tunic. The cotton fabric scrapes down my hyper-aware skin. I don’t bother picking it off the floor before falling into bed.
The fireplace hums with dying embers, leaving the room somewhat chilled, but my flushed cheeks welcome the crisp air. I clamber under the covers and close my eyes.
It’s been months since I’ve shared my bed or even pleasured myself. By nature, humans crave physical touch, and right now even the scratch of the sheets against my bare nipples sends a shudder up my throat.
First it’s my own hands that follow the curve of my breasts.
Then they’re Isra’s. Then they’re Jace’s.
Pleasure jolts through me almost instantly as I imagine them tracing my nipples, sensitive with a need gone unmet.
Delicious wicked visions clarify in my mind as I let my head fall back onto the goose feather pillow.
Isra’s lips on my neck. Jace’s fingers laced through my hair. Both men, voracious and frantic, ready to devour my every breath.
My fingers trace the lines of my stomach and settle between my thighs. I don’t have to touch myself to know I’m already soaked and reeling.
“You’re so ready for us already, starling.” Jace’s imagined whisper against my ear sends a ripple over my skin, and I cling to my traitorous thoughts like they’re a lifeline. Maybe they are. Maybe this escape is one I can grant myself.
It’s a harmless secret. So, for the first time in a long time, I let go.
I crawl into the darkest parts of myself as I slip an index finger through my slick heat and find my center. That bud of nerves is already swollen and throbbing with the anticipation of my climax.
Fuck, I need this release like it’s air.
My other hand finds my nipple, pinching and swirling, like it’s Jace’s. I bite my cheek to silence the moan growing in my throat. “Quiet starling, wouldn’t want to wake the dead with those beautiful little whimpers of yours.”
My index finger presses to my clit like it’s Isra’s tongue, stroking and circling, until the tension building is damn near unbearable.
Isra’s perfect lips wrap around my sex, sucking in my clit.
My breath shallows. Release offers little shudders of anticipation through my body as I slide a finger inside me.
My walls stretch when I slip in another.
What would it feel like to have Jace? Would I tense around his cock as he filled me entirely?
I retract my fingers, drenched and glistening with arousal.
A moan slips from me at the thought. Dangerous, delicious, dark.
Jace sheathing himself to the hilt while Isra worships each inch of my body like I’m the only godsdamned deity he prays to.
Fuck, I can’t breathe.
My release climbs higher and higher as I fill myself again and again.
“You’re taking me so well, starling.”
My thighs tense and my toes curl as I reach my apex. I can’t stifle the groan spilling from my lips. “Such a good girl. Let go for us, Nova. Let go.”
Then I shatter. The shockwave of pleasure crashing through me is like falling from the fucking cosmos until I’m limp and satisfied.
Before I drift into sleep, though, a glass shatters somewhere down below.
What the fuck was that? I jump from the sheets and throw on the bathing robe draped over the bedside chair. Some piece of me begs to stay put. I have no business fighting an intruder in my current, half-drunken state, but another crash has me sliding through the door.
“You heard that too, then?” Isra appears from his own bedchamber. The blood drains from my face as our eyes lock.
“I thought you went to bed,” I whisper, panic curling through me. His door is directly opposite mine and I hadn’t been nearly as quiet as I should have.
“I was about to, but—”
Something heavy thuds downstairs, rattling the walls.
“Stay behind me.” Isra’s eyes narrow and we descend the steps. The temperature plummets with tendrils of a frigid mist, coiling around us as we reach the last step. I don’t breathe, don’t make a sound.
When I slip into the foyer, the intoxication muddying my thoughts fizzles, leaving only a full force of sobered apprehension.
“Fuck,” Isra whispers. I file in behind him, eyes washing over the dark entrance. Scattered glass shards refract the sunrise across the floor. The delicate curtains, once adrift with a crisp midnight breeze, now hang shredded and off balance.
Good gods. Hunched over the central table, is Jace. His midnight strands blanket his face, but the rise and fall of his chest is evidence enough of the visceral rage now shedding from him like a second skin.
“Are you alright?” Isra takes a cautious step toward him, holding out a palm for me to stay put. My feet refuse to move, and so does my gaze.
Blood drips from Jace’s lips, pooling on the table beneath him, and his hands…onyx ink stains his fingertips, just as it did back in Storm.
“Get away…” Jace growls, but the voice isn’t his own. It’s laced with a darkness that quakes every cell in my body. “Get her away from me.”
Isra’s head snaps to me. “Go back upstairs. Lock the door. Don’t let anyone in until I come for you.”
I can’t breathe, not when Jace’s claws curl into fists, shredding the wooden tabletop like it’s thinner than parchment.
“Go, Nova, please!” Isra repeats and the desperation in his tone hits me like a shockwave.
“Nova…” A predatory growl rumbles in Jace’s throat as he cranes his neck toward me.
Our eyes lock, and I damn near piss myself. Gone are his glorious midnight irises. They’ve been replaced with a shade of garnet, dark and deadly.
Malevolent and soulless.
My heart leaps up my throat. Nausea floods in. He’s no longer human, no longer Jace Ashborne, but a creature of nightmares. His lips stretch into a dangerous grin, revealing stark white canines—elongated and sharp.
“Go upstairs,” Isra hisses.
“Nova…” Jace whispers, the multitude of voices dripping with deathly promise.
Isra’s body blocks him as he lunges for me, snarling and snapping like a rabid wolf. I don’t waste another second before breaking into a sprint up the stairs.