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One thought from him, and her neck would snap like a twig.
He wouldn’t though, some voice whispered in her head. He needed her memories. He might’ve wanted her dead, but until Ramapheal had all the pieces of the Arch, she was valuable enough that he’d smashed Caspel’s face into that table because he’d hurt her. Enough that he’d been ready to slaughter the entire room at large before Morana had called everyone off.
Soraya wondered what else she could make him do.
The gold in Ikarus’s eye pulsed when she pushed her boot into his bare chest, the insole resting against the silver chain at his throat, the two rings there. That gold that’d been muted to near brown when he was the Demon.
Soraya almost scoffed. Ikarus. And the Demon. As different as an arrow and a mighty ax.
Was that the tell then? The key to know which one she was speaking to? Did whatever place he tunneled within himself to become the Demon wipe that strip of gold away? Did it carve him up too, to kill and maim, and this Demon was his defense against it all?
Soraya pushed the thoughts aside. There were already too many carriages on the tracks right now to add another.
Cocking her head, Soraya watched a muscle in his jaw ripple as she pressed her foot a little harder into his chest.
Interesting.
He watched her face, those strange eyes briefly flicking to the ash-stick when she brought it to her lips again.
She’d answer “no” if anyone ever asked if she enjoyed this.
It would be a lie.
Soraya had taken a seat of control within the Vordellian army early on and was comfortable commanding the legions of men and women beneath her. After all these years of war, she was no stranger to power—but with her boot pressed against Ikarus’s chest, hovering over his heart …
She’d missed this. Hadn’t realized how much until she’d caught a glimmer of it in the bathroom the other day. Missed the way it made her pulse sing to be in control of a man like this—Dar’rak or no.
The song stopped when his hands drifted to her leg. His large fingers wrapped around her ankle, the power there thrumming against her bones as if reminding her how easily he could break them if he wanted to.
“Dangerous game you’re playing here, human.” His voice was deep and gravelly enough to make her insides flip. “I’d be careful if I were you—teasing a man with his own ash-sticks might not be the cleverest idea you’ve ever had. Keep going and you may not like the consequences.”
“You can’t hurt me.” She tipped her head to the side, tight curls sliding away to show him the healing bite marks on her neck. “Injured, remember? Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your master’s favorite toy.”
Was she stupid to antagonize him now? Probably. Was she going to stop? Absolutely not.
“I already told you that they’re not yours, and I think you’re the one who needs to be careful,” she said. The ash-stick still burned in her hand, wrapping them in a thin veil of the most intoxicating-smelling smoke she’d ever come across. “You know, before that mission in the Fresurn Mountains, I was working on upgrading these boots to add a knife to a hidden panel underneath in case of emergencies.”
His eyes dipped to the knuckle-duster forever melted into the back of her left hand. “To ensure you wouldn’t be caught behind enemy lines without a weapon. That doesn’t surprise me.” He met her gaze again. “How close were you to finishing them?”
“Who’s to say I didn’t?” He tamped it down quickly, but Soraya caught that brief flicker of doubt bleeding in just for a second. “Who’s to say there isn’t a blade hidden beneath my toes right now? One false move,” she whispered, studying his gaze as she twisted her boot, pressing it deeper into his skin, “and I might just scrape your heart.”
“I’m surprised you think I have one.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” she said, oddly enthralled when he dragged his tongue across his lower lip.
His fingers tightened around her ankle. Something like excitement twitched around his mouth. “As much as that sounds like a fantastic way to die, I think you’re forgetting that our lives are still linked.”
She clicked her tongue, leaning back against the wall. “Looks like you’re safe from me for another day, then.”
He watched her take another drag. She watched him right back, tracing how the smoke she exhaled caressed the sharp curve of his jaw and mouth, how his wet hair seemed to glow dimly in the darkness surrounding them like moonlight that’d been trapped in a veil, still shining but … muted. Dulled. If he was anything other than what he was, if she hadn’t seen the terrible things he’d done firsthand, she might have thought he was beautiful.
Despite that, the air still crackled between them. You feel it too, don’t you, that look in his eyes seemed to say. This push and pull between them. The give-and-take that felt like a match about to be dropped onto a pile of explosives.
Ikarus’s eyes slid to her lips. Soraya’s pulse quickened.
His gaze briefly dipped to her chest like he could hear it, before a slow smile spread across his face. “What are you thinking about right now?” When she didn’t answer, he used that grip on her ankle to tug her to the very edge of the bureau.
She gasped quietly, her white-knuckled grip against the curved top the only thing keeping her from tumbling into him. She stared up at him, the gold in his eyes now near glowing in the darkness.
