Page 86 of Ashen Wings

My fingers search for the dagger sheathed at my side, but Jace’s ink-dipped grasp holds it secure. He turns us back to face the crowd of howling souls.

“Mine.” The growl pours from his lips like smoke.

Then, he goes wholly still.

Wholly rigid.

“No, Jace, please…” I whimper. Terror whips through me like an arctic blast as the soulless King of Shadow brings his lips to my neck. I writhe and wriggle against his hold, but those dagger sharp claws pin me in place. He brushes a thumb across my waist, maybe in reassurance, but I don’t care. He’s going to drain me. To kill me.

I’m no more than prey, trapped and flailing against death’s wicked grip. The soulless riders roar as Jace laces his fingers through my hair, angling my head to further expose my neck.

Half crazed, I swing out my boots. Jace doesn’t flinch, nor does he loosen his grip in the slightest.

“Mine.” The word is a hot breath against my skin.

Then, his lips are on me.

Nothing short of need crashes through me. My body stills, entirely consumed by his mouth against me.

The confusion, panic, terror, all of it is swept away by an overwhelming swell of desire pumping through me. I grind my teeth, fighting the losing battle against my body’s reaction to him. An ache blooms between my legs, intense enough to have me reeling. His tongue traces the two puncture marks left from the earlier attack, washing the skin in slick warmth.

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I draw in a shallow breath, wrapping my hands around the strong forearm holding me in place.

Fuck, what is happening? I’m near seconds from death, yet I find myself biting my cheek to keep from crying out.

Jace pulls away from my neck, his lips stained crimson.

Gods above, he draws his tongue over his teeth then across his bottom lip, lapping up my glistening blood like it’s sweeter than honey. My chest heaves with short, controlled breaths. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t move even the slightest. Part of me fears he’s turned to stone when he shifted, but his fingers loosen their grip around my thighs.

The soulless riders rumble, each one falling to their knees in a gesture of honor. Jace crosses the distance between us and our exit, filing through kneeling creatures.

A king and his court.

Death and his souls.

Morvayne incarnate.

He holds his chin high, but his hands tremble. When he sets me down, just out of sight of the others eagerly awaiting us beyond the tomb’s exit, he finally offers me his gaze. It’s returned to its normal midnight shade, but my breath catches. Those swirling inky eyes are glazed with an unmistakable lust as he draws a canine over his lip.

“I’m sorry. If I didn’t make a spectacle, they might not have believed me,” he says, voice strained and low. “Then we’d both be dead.”

“Next time, maybe clue me in before you try something like that again.” I clear my throat.

Jace dips into the shadows, and I dare look at the hand resting by his trousers. He grips his fist until his knuckles whiten. No claws. No ink-stained fingertips.

“That won’t happen again,” he says, eyes scanning mine. “Things can get intense when I’m in that form. Are you okay?” I swallow the residual lust thrumming through me.

“Fine,” I reply.

“Good.”

We sink into silence. One mistaken glance toward his trousers has me falling from the fucking cosmos. The laces stretch around his bulging arousal. So he felt it, too—this uncontrollable need tethering us together. My blood reignites through my veins.

“Go, before Isra or Roe come after us.” He smooths back his midnight locks. “I’ll be right behind you, I just need a minute to collect myself.”

I nod and glue my eyes to the floor. Only the sound of my footfalls echoes through the corridor as I finally find my way back into the fresh night air.

“What the fuck happened in there?” Isra’s panic stricken voice booms through me, pounding right on my temples.