Page 62 of The Fae Lord

In my other hand, I am holding my weapon. An icicle. Sharp, pointed, deadly if I can get close enough to use it with force.

That is my first plan... Sneak up on him in his sleep and stab the ice blade into his heart before he even opens his eyes.

My backup plan is to throw all my magic at him and see if Finn is right, and I truly can be the one to take his power from him.

If I can, and I do, then he won’t stand a chance against me.

I bend down and remove my boots, then step inside. The flagstone floor is cold against the soles of my feet. My toes twitch at the contact. I am in a small, dark room. As my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I realise it is a study.

I cross to the door, pause, then push it gently open.

Now, I am somewhere I recognise.

Memories dance in front of me as I take in the armchair, the fireplace, the couch. All the places I sat as Eldrion talked at me and questioned me.

I have not been this close to him since we were in the tunnels together, and suddenly, with his scent embedding itself in the deepest parts of my body, I can barely breathe.

He is here. I can feel him.

I cross the room silently, glancing towards the door, which is sealed shut.

I know where his bedroom is. I watched him standing there, pleasuring himself while he watched a vision of the two of us. I still don’t know if it was a premonition or a fantasy.

I hope it was the latter, because if it was the former it means we are going to be intimate again. Because that scene hasn’t happened yet.

When I reach the bedroom, I pause. I lean closer and strain for sounds of movement. I hear nothing. But I still feel him. I know he is there.

I slip into the room, holding the icicle close to my heart.

And then there he is.

He is stretched out on the bed, one arm up above his head, wings spread wide behind him as if they themselves are forming a bed made of thick black feathers. The sheet is lying across his waist, hiding his lower half from view.

Like this, with his silver hair splayed on the cushion of his dark wings, and his eyes closed, he looks almost beautiful.

He is beautiful.

But how can something so beautiful be so deadly?

My heart races as I move closer to the bed. He does not stir. I watch his chest rising and falling, and try to ignore the pull deep in the base of my spine that makes me want to touch him.

Instead, I levitate above the bed. The air moves, and Eldrion grumbles something, turns his head, but does not wake.

I lower myself until I am lying in the air, parallel with his body.

I study his chest. I can almost hear his heart beating. He looks so peaceful.

I hold the icicle above him. One quick movement, and it’s all over. The visions, and the running, and the torment.

Not just for me. For Finn and all the other Shadowkind.

One quick movement and it’s over.

My arm twitches. I bring it back, then plunge it towards his heart.

Its tip meets his skin.

And then he opens his eyes.

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