Page 61 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Only because you lack imagination,” he replies.

It’s the last straw. The anger that has been building inside me boils over and I cast about for something—anything—to prove him wrong. I throw the net of my power wide. His magic keeps attacking me from below, growing obstacles that trip and block me at every step. But plants aren’t the only thing you’ll find underground…

There’s a rocky outcrop to my left that sings to me, calling to my magic. There, beneath its surface, lies a fat deposit of silver. I can use that, I’m sure, if I can just get deep enough to move it.

It takes too long. I’m just easing my magic under the base of the silver deposit when the branch from a nearby tree bends and creaks under Ruskin’s magic, snapping forward to plow into me. The move knocks me a few feet backwards and I land right on my ass, doubled over and winded.

Ruskin bares his sharp teeth at me in what looks like satisfaction. Is this all just part of the training to him, or is he maybe taking some pleasure in it? Is this payback for leaving? Is he relishing the chance to humiliate me like I did him?

I’m still connected to the silver buried deep in the earth. In that moment my physical pain, my shock and anger, run into my magic, the high emotions giving it the fuel it needs.

The hill beside us sits green and undisturbed for one more second, then it explodes.

Chapter 19

Dark soil flies everywhere, small, sharp stones cutting like arrowheads into the ground around us.

Then comes the silver—shards of it split from the rock that held it—pelting towards the valley like beautiful, deadly rain, sparkling in the sunlight as it falls.

I’m so surprised I misjudge my magic, losing the connection with the silver for a moment. I look up in horror at the splinters of metal and rock barreling towards us as I frantically try to redirect them, but it’s too late.

Then sky disappears. At first I can’t tell why, too wrapped up in a pair of strong arms that bundle me to the ground, Ruskin’s large body shielding me. I adjust my chin to look over his shoulder, seeing thick tree branches twisting to form a roof above us.

A bower. Ruskin has grown one over us in a matter of seconds, just in time to shield us from the debris of the explosion.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the storm of rock and metal hits our shelter, the whistle and thud of sharp objects assaulting the only thing standing between us and fatal wounds. I pray it holds, clinging to Ruskin tight enough that my fingernails snag in the fabric of his jacket.

The din is deafening at first—but eventually, it slows to a clatter as the last few stones thunk against the trees, then roll off them.

I open my eyes. I should feel like a coward and a fool. But I can’t think of anything but Ruskin’s body pressed against mine. His hair tickles the side of my face and I breathe in the scent of him, letting the sweet muskiness fill my nostrils. I feel so safe here. So at home. As we sit there in silence for a moment, him wrapped around me, I realize I feel his heartbeat where I’m lying against his chest, and it’s racing.

I lift my head. It’s shadowy under the bower, which is completely solid on top, but a few strips of light stream through the sides, enough to illuminate his face where it’s positioned inches from mine. My breath hitches.

Then he kisses me.

My brain empties of everything when his lips touch mine. Everything but the way his mouth is at once soft and forceful, pressing into me, compelling access. I angle my head for a better hold as I bury my hand in his hair and allow him to devour me like a starving man. I’m hungry for this too, unable to stifle a moan of pleasure as he runs his tongue along mine. I’ve missed this so badly it’s almost torture to experience it again, to remember what’s been taken from me. Just his kiss sets me aflame, my nerve endings tingling, every inch of my body screaming for more, more, more.

How could I have ever given this up? This wild edge that only he can bring out in me, the one that doesn’t need to ask a thousand questions or seek a thousand answers, the one that can just live in the moment, only feeling, only being here with him. God, I’ve missed this—not just the physical satisfaction of his touch, but the person I am when I only exist in this plane of desire and sensation.

I don’t want to lose her again.

I prop myself up onto my knees, forcing him to sit back so that I’m straddling his lap. He makes a low noise of approval, his hand dropping from my back to my ass, gripping it, using it to guide the V of my legs closer against him, so I can feel his hardness beneath me. I grind against it while teasing his lower lip between mine, and my breathless pant is drowned out by his growl. His free hand expertly unbuckles the back of my leather breast plate, sliding up beneath my shirt and encircling my hardened nipple beneath.

He grins against my mouth, staying my kisses for a moment.

“I knew you just needed a little push,” he says, emphasizing the last word by thrusting up against me, sparking delicious friction.

His tongue meets mine again, but the moan he’s intent on ripping from me dies in my throat.

We just nearly died—or at least, were almost seriously hurt—because of my magic. Because of what he pushed me to do.

I pull back, my thoughts racing.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

“You did that on purpose,” I say. I don’t know why it wasn’t obvious to me before. The harshness of the training wasn’t just Ruskin not knowing how to teach, or even some petty revenge on me, he was baiting me, riling me up because?—

“Why?” I ask. “Why were you trying to make me angry?”

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