Page 90 of Of Night and Blood: Special Edition

“He will always be with you, Asher. Never will he leave you and never will he blame you. Think of him every day. Do not forget how beautiful that love was, how it shaped and remade you,” he said.

I thought of the sound the chain had made as it snapped off Sipho’s neck, my hand clutching the amethyst while I flew through the air.

We lay there awhile longer, and then he told me more stories of his days when he felt lost, when he killed simply to kill. He shared tales of fear and hatred, told me of how little he felt he deserved in life. I reassured him, kissing away his frown, begging him to understand how much he mattered to this broken world.

When neither of us felt like talking further, we made love. Not the frantic sex from earlier, but a slow and gentle joining. We savored each other.

“Why do your tattoos move?” I asked after we had caught our breath, tracing my fingers along the now still lines. He shook his head, sighing at my curiosity. I had a feeling that for as long as he knew me, I would be able to pull those glorious sighs from him, an annoyance until the very end. The thought made me smile despite his clear refusal to tell me.

“Next question,” he answered. I huffed at him, pulling away my hand. Then a brilliant question came to mind.

“Fine, will you tell me what your super secret magic is?” I asked, smirking up at him. His brows furrowed for a moment, then at once his face went from confused to amused. He rolled his eyes, placing a soft kiss to my nose.

“Why is it that my initial instinct upon hearing that question is to throttle Henry?” he inquired.

I laughed at his tone, silky from the intimacy but also light from the humor. It was strange, feeling so content while simultaneously spiraling. A part of me drowned in guilt for enjoying myself when I knew so many others suffered. When I knew of the wrongs being committed by the fae royals. Another attempted to peel apart Bellamy’s lies and evasions, to piece together what he was hiding. And then there was the part of me that seemed to hum at his touch, to settle into him like I had been made to lay there.

“Likely because he is the only one of your little Trusted that is willing to share any information other than, ‘today we will be riding a horse, Asher’ or ‘did you know that the sky is blue, Asher?’” I remarked. He barked a laugh, the sound echoing back at us from the depths of the cave. “You are unnervingly joyous.”

“I was not aware it was a crime to be happy, Princess,” he teased. I eyed him with suspicion, not quite sure what to make of this sudden change in mood. Bellamy merely rolled his eyes again, flicking my nose before speaking. “Honey Tongue.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I regarded his smirk and light tone.

“Is that supposed to be pillow talk? If so, I prefer something more interesting when referencing my talented mouth. Such as goddess lips,” I quipped. Another throaty laugh, and then he was kissing me. I reciprocated, questioning how I ever refused him, how I ever denied myself this pleasure.

When we parted, our breath was once again uneven, the air charged. But I wanted answers. I deserved them. He seemed to understand my thoughts, because with a rather dramatic sigh, he leaned back.

“Honey tongue is the magic that is passed down between demon royals. Asta, whom I imagine Henry must have told you about, had a rather impressive talent. She was able to sway beings with her words. When she spoke, everyone followed. Sometimes it would take convincing, other times it would fail, but more often than not it was as if her voice was hypnotizing those she spoke to. They usually relented, submitting to her will. Many even questioned whether or not she had seduced Zohar, though he adamantly fought the rumor. At least, that is what our history says. Truthfully, I do not believe she did. While the magic is not infallible, Honey Tongues are still considered quite dangerous,” he explained.

Perhaps it was the realist in me, but I could not prevent myself from wondering if Bellamy had used that very magic on me. Was I being slowly seduced by his words? Could someone like me, with an ability to control minds, be overpowered in that way? He did always seem to have an affinity for captivating me.

Regardless of whether or not he had used that magic to sway my mind, I knew now why he was able to block me. Because he had grown up with a father, and likely a grandfather, who possessed the kind of magic that required mental blocking. Not to the extent in which my power called for, but still necessary.

“Before you ask, no, I have not swayed you in any way. I know I have said to use every power in your arsenal, but I do not believe in stripping someone of their right to choice without cause. I would never, ever do that to you,” he swore, his tone far more serious than it had been before.

I nodded, feeling guilt rise at the way I had done that very thing. No words could take back the sins I had committed, but I could be better. I would be better.

After a moment, Bellamy kissed me. Though impossibly tired, we came together again. It was rough and hasty, our attempt to show each other just how deep our love went.

We got dressed after—me putting on his tunic with my cloak over top to avoid the buttonless trousers—and when we were finished, he portaled us back to the campsite. Right into his waiting tent.

Without so much as a second thought, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down onto his cot, settling the two of us together before covering our bodies with his quilts and fur.

“Rest, Princess. Tomorrow we travel to The Royal City. But tonight, I ask that you sleep here in my arms, where I promise to keep you safe for as long as I live,” he said against my head, fingers dragging through my hair.

I nestled deeper into him, my head against his chest and my arms around him.

“Forever,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering closed. “I will keep you all safe, forever.”

I thought of Sipho, how he had once held me the same way, promised me the same things. The warmth of the demon prince and that feeling of rightness that still hummed in my chest allowed me to dream of joy for the first time in so long. Of beautiful memories rather than terrifying futures.

“Hello, Ash,” Sipho said as he approached me, the hood of his cloak not able to hide the dazzling flash of white teeth and full lips.

My breath hitched, and suddenly the autumn night felt incredibly warm. He was stunning, as always. He walked with the confidence of someone who knew their worth and would accept no less.

Trying to remain calm and mysterious, perhaps even sexy, I simply gave a small nod of my head. “Sipho.”

His smile turned devious, the moonlight glinting off the amethyst at his neck, a piece of jewelry I had marveled at more than once. It had been his mother’s, but when a demon attack led to her death, his father had gifted it to him. Admiring it up close had become a regular activity of mine, though I was not always afforded the chance to see it, or Sipho, daily.

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