Page 26 of King of Fire and Flames

“I predict you’ll live to regret those words, Princess,” he said, hissing the title like a curse, a promise. A husky threat that slid along my spine and dampened the skin between my thighs.

Self-disgust rose, hot bile scalding my throat. How could I find anything that faithless wolf said remotely exciting? Habit, I guessed. My body was used to responding to him. Used to reacting to his voice, his touch, remembering them as sources of pleasure and joy.

But no more.

I’d rather die than let him touch me like that again.

And he could threaten all he liked, but it wouldn’t change a thing. My face would still be the last thing he saw as he drew a final breath, and I tore his entrails from his gut.

“Enough dancing.” Azarn rose, clapping his hands together once. “It bores me.” He nodded at Esen. “Take the human away. I have much to discuss with King Arrowyn before I allow him to rest from his travels.”

Arrow bristled at the king’s words, his hands falling away from my body. He cut me a bow, facing away from the dais as he whispered, “Have they hurt you? Tell me now, Leaf.” His gaze tracked over the gore on my tunic.

Ignoring his question, I dropped my gaze to the dark marble.

“Arrowyn,” barked the Fire King.

Arrow spun on his heel and stalked away, the weight of his fury enveloping me, as if he’d wrapped his brand-new cloak around my shoulders. A prickly burden I neither wanted to feel nor would let affect me.

As he mounted the dais, the hand by his side flexed twice. Two spasms of either disgust or anger. Disgust that he’d had to touch me? Or fury that Azarn wielded some kind of power over him?

As Esen led me past the flame-lit faces of the tittering crowd, I felt Arrow’s gaze on my back, my Aldara mark pulsing in response. An answer to a question neither one of us wanted asked.

Thanks for marking me, fuck face, I thought, and for ruining both our lives.

My limbs weak with exhaustion and shock, I leaned on Esen as I walked through the corridors of the palace, feeling Arrow’s presence all the way back to the tower room.

“Get some sleep,” Esen said as she locked the door, leaving me to scrub the blood from my skin in a hot bath before climbing into bed, every bone in my body aching.

I’d been asleep for a while when the sound of clicking locks woke me. As the door creaked open, I bolted out of bed, then crouched beside it, ready to leap onto my assailant’s back and claw their eyes out.

Silence followed. No steps. No movement.

Who could it be?

Arrow stalking toward me through the shadows? My inactive Aldara mark told me it wasn’t. Perhaps Esen had decided to finish what she’d started back in Coridon. But that didn’t make sense. Her sharp personality had lost so much of its edge since I’d been in Taln, I was beginning to suspect she liked me.

“Where are you hiding, little murderess?” said a tall slender shadow with a silky-smooth voice. “I’m not here to kill you. I promise. Hurry and show yourself.”

With a sigh, I got to my feet. “Prince Bakhur, what could be so urgent that you must disturb my sleep?” I asked, even though I was certain I knew the answer.

At the flick of his wrist, a wall sconce burst to life, and he prowled toward me. Refusing to cower, I kept my bare feet planted wide and raised my chin as if I were dressed in Mydorian armor, rather than a too-thin nightgown.

“I found your fight with Dorn rather… stimulating, Princess of Dust.”

I laughed. “You couldn’t have seen much through the flames.”

“In Taln, we are fae of the sun. Flames illuminate all things to our vision. I saw you clearly. I witnessed your fierceness, your determination, and I longed to congratulate you on your win. So here I am.”

“Congratulations could have waited until morning.”

His amber eyes glittered as he gripped my chin, tilting my face up. “Congratulations could wait, yes. But this required immediate attention,” he said, seizing my wrist and guiding my palm to the hard bulge in the front of his trousers.

Something sizzled, the scent of burning flesh watering my eyes as Bakhur spat out a curse, stepping backward and away from me. “Fuck the Storm King and his mark.”

“Does it hurt to touch me?” I asked, unable to hide the joy in my voice.

Bakhur grimaced and glanced at his groin. “Depends what I’m thinking about at the time.”

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