A light in the flame

My eyes went wide as a sword came down, and the night spread out. I blocked the bone-rattling blow, holding my ground as the black mist rose above me. If I ran, I would likely go right off the Rise. I pushed back, and a rough laugh came from within the darkness.

And then, in an instant, it smothered the stars above me. There was no light. Nothing but darkness, my pounding heart, and the throbbing embers. It was like a blindfold had been placed over my eyes—a blindfold.

The exercise helps you hone your other senses. That was what Holland had said when I’d asked him why he had me practicing with one. I almost laughed, thinking Holland really did walk that fine line of interference.

I tightened my grip on the spear. I didn’t think my other senses were up to par as I vainly searched the utter stillness of nothingness around me. The only thing I heard were shouts of pain, swords meeting swords—

A brush of air stirred in front of my face, and I ducked, feeling the blade cut through the air above me. I swiped out and up with the spear, hitting nothing. I froze, a fine sheen of sweat gathering on my brow. The stirring of air came again, and I darted to the left.

A flare of stinging pain lanced my side, nothing compared to the agony of a fallen god’s fangs. I gritted my teeth as I swung out with the spear. The broad side of the shadowstone struck legs. The heavy thump of the Cimmerian landing on their back came from my right. On my knee, I pivoted and jabbed down. The grunt of pain told me I’d struck some part of the bastard. The night began to break apart, becoming grayer than—

Air stirred behind me, and I whirled, jabbing up and out with the spear. The blade hit the resistance of armor and then sank through. I jerked the spear free, rising as an arm clamped down on my throat. Years of training and instinct took over. I let myself go limp, catching the wounded Cimmerian off guard. He stumbled, and I twisted, breaking free of his hold. Enough of the night had cleared for me to see the head, and that was where I aimed, shoving the spear as hard as I could. The crunching sound turned my stomach. I pulled the spear free and turned.

A hand clasped my arm, stopping the blow. I was spun before I could even take a breath. An arm went around my waist, and my back hit the hard wall of a chest as the darkness on the Rise continued to scatter. I sucked in a startled breath—

Citrus. Fresh air. The foolish ember in my chest wiggled even more fiercely.

“Striking me with the spear would not be how you should repay me for ensuring you live to see a crown upon your head.” Nyktos’s smoky voice was in my ear.

My grip on the spear immediately loosened. “How should I repay you?”

His arm tightened. The awareness—the feel of him so close that I felt his deep breath—stirred more than the embers. He didn’t answer, and for a moment, it was just us standing there, without so much as an inch between us as the stars began filling the sky once more.

Nyktos moved without warning, whirling us around. He trapped me between the parapet wall and his body as a rush of air swept up from inside the courtyard of the Rise. Large, powerful wings swept over our heads. My heart tripped over itself as a spiked tail grazed the top of the parapet wall that my cheek was now pressed against. A draken had just arrived, but I wasn’t thinking about that. My mind—good gods, there was something wrong with my thoughts because they immediately went to a wholly inappropriate place, conjuring up the memories of Nyktos behind me, his large and powerful body caging mine just as it did now, leaving no space between us. No opportunity to even move my head. There had been no clothes between us then either, when he took me from behind, branding my skin, claiming me. The memory was fresh and acute, sending a bolt of dizzying lust through me.

“Fuck,” Nyktos growled, his breath hot against my cheek. “You will be the death of me.”

I must’ve projected, but this was a rare moment when I didn’t care. “We both know that’s not possible,” I whispered as the draken landed on the other side of the Rise.

He made a rough sound as the hand at my wrist slid up my arm. I opened my eyes, able to see the row of pointed horns framing Nektas’s head. His grayish-black wings swept back, pushing Ector and Rhain to his side. The world below turned silver as fiery eather poured from the draken.

“You’ve been injured,” Nyktos growled low in my ear. “Again.”

“Barely.”

“I can smell your blood.” His palm grazed the side of my breast. I jerked. He skimmed his hand down my side to where there was a burning ache. “It makes me want to taste you.”

His words sent a wicked pulse of desire from my pounding heart to my core. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t.” The arm below my breasts flexed. “You don’t value your life.”

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“It has everything to do with that.” His breath was a caress against my throat. “If I tasted you again, I don’t know if I could stop.”

“Yes, you would,” I whispered, believing that more than I did anything in my life.

Nyktos made that sound again, part growl and curse as he dropped his arm, angling his body as he turned to the road. Surprised to find that I still held the spear in my hand, I willed my heart to slow as I peeled myself away from the wall and followed Nyktos’s gaze to the road—

Nektas snapped forward, catching a Cimmerian between his powerful jaws. He shook his head, severing the god in two.

“Ew,” I uttered.

“I’ve seen him do worse.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that,” I murmured.

“Try to listen for once and stay here,” Nyktos said, and then he was gone, leaping over the side of the Rise.

I shot forward, grasping the stone edge. Nyktos was on the road, prowling past the bodies of his fallen men. Five had…five were gone. The warmth swelled in my chest as I stared at them. My palms heated—

Nektas’s head swung toward me, his crimson eyes with their thin, vertical pupils locking onto me. His lips vibrated, pulling back with a warning growl. I swallowed hard as I rested the spear against the wall. It was as if he’d sensed the eather gathering inside me. I pressed both hands against the stone, pushing down the urge and burying it as deeply as I could as Nyktos stalked toward the only standing Cimmerian.

Dorcan’s balaclava gathered at his throat, no longer shielding his face. The man appeared to be in his third decade of life, but as a god, that could mean he was hundreds of years old if not more. “I’m assuming you have a message you want me to deliver to Hanan.”

The way he spoke as Nyktos approached him made it seem as if this were something that had happened between them before.

“Nyktos,” Saion called out from where he knelt by one of the soldiers. “He’s seen her.”

I tensed.

“Then my generosity has come to an end,” Nyktos said.

Dorcan showed no reaction. “I don’t know what you’re thinking by refusing Hanan, but whatever it is, it will end badly for you. He’ll go to Kolis, and more will come.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Nyktos unsheathed a sword, striking as fast as a pit viper and severing the Cimmerian’s head from his shoulders.

Chapter 12

Rhain eyed me as if he expected me to run out of Nyktos’s office at any given second and into the middle of a firestorm. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me longer than it took to blink. Ector, on the other hand, was sprawled across the settee, eyes closed and quite possibly napping.

“It would calm my nerves if you sat,” Rhain advised with a tilt of his golden-red head. “Instead of pacing.”

“Pacing calms my nerves.” I made another pass in front of Nyktos’s desk. “And trust me when I say you’d prefer me to have calm nerves versus the opposite.”