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And somehow, the emotion that bubbled up in me in response was … anger?
It was sharp, that feeling. Bitter and disconcertingly violent. Aimed not at him – at the shaking of his wings and shoulders and the crinkles of mirth around his eyes – but at these years and years of silence, every single time I’d seen him laugh and believed I’d known the depths of that scarred black heart. Most of all …
At his mother.
His gods-damned mother.
‘Oh, I’m going tokillher.’ The bitter promise burst over my lips before I could think twice, the only way out for that fury building, burning in my chest. At once my feet were moving again; I stumbled towards him with a wide swing of my hand, flung up at the world above. ‘The bitch – how could she? Howcouldshe? I—’
His hand closed around my wrist.
He pulled me against him with one swift movement, and then his lips were on mine – a kiss smothering my every bloodthirsty oath, drinking in the fire of my rage. His free hand knotted in my hair. His mouth was hot on mine, seeking entrance. I opened up to the coaxing demands of his tongue, and he swept in, releasing the roughest, quietest moan as our bodies melted together.
It turned out I had not yet forgotten those messy moments on the beach.
Heat stung my core, not anger but something far more dangerous. I nipped on his bottom lip, and he growled into my mouth in response – a brand new sound so ferocious that I had to grab his shoulders to keep my knees from buckling. His hand vanished from my wrist. Fingers clawed into my bottom the next moment, yanking me flush against him, pressing me so close I could not fail to notice the hardening bulge against my lower belly.
I gasped. I couldn’t help myself.
‘So violent,’ he muttered, his warm breath brushing over the skin just below my ear. His fingers were inching down over my thighs, all the way to the hem of my dress – the strangest thing, to feel him and hear him at the same time. ‘Did I ever tell you how utterly irresistible you are when you’re threatening bloody murder in my name, Em?’
‘It wasn’t a seduction attempt!’ I managed, the words coming out on a moan. ‘Iamgoing to kill her.’
‘Oh, I know. It’s just …’ Calloused fingers found my bare skin, slipping below my skirt the next moment. His wings flared out around me, enveloping me in an embrace of shadows. ‘You don’t have the faintest idea how relieved I am to have my little warrior back.’
There was just the tiniest crack in his voice – an almost inaudible catch, yet gods help me, it hit me like a fist to the throat. His signs I was used to. His wounded glances I’d seen before. But that little tremble, the hurt in it that he didn’t fully manage to suppress … As if every shield had fallen from around him and I was speaking directly to the fragile creature inside, that child so starved of love it had believed itself unlovable.
Guilt burrowed its claws into my heart so suddenly I winced.
‘I’m so sorry.’ The words came out on a choked whisper. ‘Fuck, Creon, I was such a fool to ever think—’
He kissed me again.
‘Hey!’ I tore away from those sweet lips, breathing heavily. His arm around my waist wouldn’t allow me to put more than a handful of inches between us, but his fingers stilled on my thigh as I glared at him. ‘You’ll have to at least allow me to properlyapologise, Your Highness. I’m not going to let you pretend I didn’t do anything wrong when I almost broke us up over—’
‘You didn’t break up anything,’ he cut in – hell, thatvoice, the edge of roughness and the warmth below. ‘You made mistakes and fixed them. Entirely different story.’
‘I shouldn’t have made the mistakes in the first place,’ I flung back, ‘and also, what do you mean, fixed them? You don’t even know what I told Tared!’
He shrugged, the gesture too languid for my agitation. ‘I know how you feel.’
I speechlessly stared at him, those almond-shaped eyes so close I could distinguish every sliver of colour in the black of his pupils – stared at him, andfelthim look back at me, the weightof that demon gaze piercing far deeper than my bland ditchwater eyes and the lines of my face. Seeing me. Knowing me. Reading me like an open book.
The whirl of my emotions quieted obligingly, like children skittering off under a stern gaze.
‘I barely know how I feel myself,’ I breathed, standing unmoving in his arms. ‘I haven’t had time to figure it out.’
He sighed, closing his eyes. ‘You’ve been a bundle of anxiety for weeks – no matter what else you were feeling, it’s been brewing beneath the surface every moment of the day. Whereas right now …’ He parted his lips, hesitated – as if to taste the air around me. ‘Exhaustion. Anger. Guilt. Little bits of arousal. And triumph, mostly. Blazing triumph, no fear to be found.’
The breath had caught in my throat.
‘So …’ He smiled faintly and opened his eyes, gaze wandering down to my arms against his chest. ‘I assume the blood isn’t yours.’
A shivery laugh escaped me. ‘It … it isn’t.’
‘Excellent,’ he muttered, and gods, that was an entirely new tone of his voice – like the deepest, richest cherry wood, unpolished but brimming with fire. ‘No need to break every bone in his body, then.’
‘Oh, no.’ I managed a grimace. ‘He apologised.’
