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And he’d watched my slaughter, time after time.
Live and live again until death at crimson night. That’s what Annon meant when he told me I was ready to find my power. Crimson night shattered the endless cycle, it ended my father’s manipulation of a natural life. This was what broke Riot Ode—he’d wiped his daughter from existence, true, because he’d made me a bleeding immortal until I was strong enough to find my power.
It worked; through the lifetimes my power grew. Each fated path added to my voice, it drew me closer to the other part of me. It drew me back to Silas.
“I chose my true name,” I said. “Does it mean . . . this is the last?”
“The final tale. There is no new lifetime here. This isyourfated path, Little Rose.”
Hells, like my royals had walked their paths, now I’d unwittingly accepted mine.
I eased back, my palms on Silas’s damp cheeks. He held my gaze, unblinking. His fingertips touched my jaw, traced the lines of my chin, my throat, as if studying every surface.
All these turns he’d watched my blood spill, unable to stop it. I could imagine the madness that might come with such solitude and gore. Affection, respect, adoration,something, was suffocating me. A sensation that raged through my veins, as though touching him was the only thing that might give me new breath.
My thumb tugged at his bottom lip; I pressed my brow to his. He needed to know. “Silas.”
“Little Rose?”
I was not bold. I was wholly inexperienced. But I knew him. Like a piece of me had slipped back into place, I knew he belonged here, with me, his hands on my skin.
“Say the word, Silas,” I whispered, tilting my head, “and I would follow you through the lifetimes.”
Before courage fled from my body, I held my breath, and kissed him.
Chapter17
The Phantom
My damn bodywas splitting in two. From the center of my chest to the top of my skull, I was on fire. A beautiful destruction of want and need and wholeness at long last.
Calista’s mouth was on mine. A first in every way, and for too many moments I was still as death. Stun bled into want. Unease bled into desire. Fear bled into obsession.
A groan slid from the back of my throat. I cupped her head and bruised her lips with my own. I’d witnessed kisses aplenty in my lifetime. Some were slow, gentle, and tender. Others were violent, wet, and rough. In this moment, I saw the merit of both.
Part of me wanted to devour her. I wanted to bite and scratch and taste my way into her. The other side wanted to study every divot, every curve, every beautiful surface of her body until the dawn.
“Silas.” My name came off her tongue in a soft rasp, as if uncertain of what we were doing, yet she couldn’t stop.
I wouldn’t stop until she demanded it.
Calista Ode took my heart and soul when we were children. First, as the heir I felt obligated to protect out of gratitude for a king who did not toss me to the cruelty of the world. Next, as a little friend. Two strange young ones no one truly understood.
Now, she took everything. My friendship, my voice, my heart, my soul. She could have it all. I was always destined to bow to her. I owned nothing, for everything I had to give had always belonged to the storyteller.
Where her touch had been gentle, her kiss was desperate. Fingers tangled in my hair; she pulled me closer.
I clawed at her waist, taking her braids in fistfuls in one hand, and circled her body with my arm. To claim her mouth, to taste her, was a thrill more intoxicating than the rush of seidr in the veins, drew more sensation than harsh ale on the tongue.
The warmth of her tongue brushed against my lips.
I pulled back, breaths heavy. “Gods, do that again.”
Calista smiled and crushed her mouth to mine. The tip of her tongue slipped into my mouth. My blood raced in a raging fire, rich desire added to the thrill of discovering the sweet seduction of her taste, like a forest after rain, fresh and sweet and free.
Her fingertips slipped down the back of the neck on my tunic. She grinned when I shuddered and blew out a rough breath too forceful against her mouth.
A hiss slid between my teeth.
