Page 65 of Hallowed Games

My mind flashed with a memory of a silver pendant etched like a butterfly.

“Sunlight.” I gasped. “Is that the only way to kill a vampire?”

His hand slid deeper into my underwear, touching me where I was wet. I gasped, moving against him. He spread me open, and the erotic ache grew.

“Wooden stake to the heart.” The words were practically a moan, and he pulled my hips down against his.

The ache inside me made it almost impossible to think now, and I rocked my hips against him. He lowered his mouth to my throat, kissing me with languorous whorls of his tongue. He might not have a soul, but the man knew how to use his mouth.

A very dim part of my mind wondered what kind of trouble I’d be in if someone opened the door and found me half-naked, riding the Raven Lord. But I also didn’t really care right now.

When I felt his fangs slide over my throat, my heart skipped a beat. I was completely vulnerable to him now, but I craved that danger.

With a hand gripping my hair, he tilted back my head. I slid my fingers into his hair. He grazed his fangs over my skin. At the same time, he was cupping me between my thighs, feeling my arousal. “I want you as mine to command, Elowen. I want to fuck you night and day.”

Deus Invictus, Archon Magne.

“You really think I couldn’t kill the Pater,” I murmured.

With a sudden jolt, he pulled his mouth from my throat. “No!” He gripped me by the biceps, his eyes pure shadows. “You can’t kill him.” His eyes shifted to an agonized expression. “I can’t do this.”

He shoved me off him, and I fell back into my chair, gasping for breath. Pain etched his features, and his eyes had darkened to pitch. “Elowen, you need to leave. Now. I know what you’re doing.”

I missed the warmth of him, the feel of him already.

Forcing myself to focus, I snatched my cloak from the chair. I still wanted more of him, and a traitorous part of me wished I could have kept it going longer. But he was the Raven Lord, and I’d come here for information.

I pulled my cloak around myself and stepped from the whispering chamber, a warm glow lighting up my body. I hadn’t learned anything about the next trial, but I’d still gained some information.

As much as I loathed the man, the Baron had taught me well. So why did I feel an emptiness carving through my chest?

CHAPTER 30

Twilight spread its silvery veil over the kingdom, tinging the mist with indigo. Sion led us over a winding path of broken cobbles to a remote part of the sprawling castle bailey, an enclosed area with walls as high as the battlements.

A cold breeze whipped over the grounds, rushing into my hood. We’d all been handed tapers, but no one had yet explained why. So we walked in a silent procession toward the next trial, holding unlit candles.

Crooked graves lined the path, and the mist shifted around them.

Up ahead, towering walls loomed before us, stretching out of the fog toward the darkening sky. Moss and sinewy tendrils of ivy snaked over the walls. The sight of them made a shiver run over my skin. The grandiose size of everything here boasted of the Order’s power.

We’d been whittled down to just under fifty people now, and a heavy sense of dread hung in the air.

Sazia shivered as she walked next to me. “Any idea what the bloody candles are for?”

I shook my head. I’d been able to tell them about Maelor’s strategy—stay focused by chanting to the Archon. But I didn’t know anything more than that.

“You remember the chant?” I whispered.

She nodded.

Clutching my taper, I looked around me, wondering who would be left by the end of the trial. My gaze landed on Lydia, who stared back at me with an unreadable expression.

I glanced ahead. As the mist thinned a little, I could see through the gates to what the walls enclosed: a cloistered garden of overgrown plants, gnarled and wild. Light and shadows writhed from torches fixed in iron sconces at the gate’s entrance.

Maelor stepped from the garden, the firelight caressing his beautiful face for just a moment. He cradled a brass chalice, and his cold blue gaze slid to mine. For a moment, I thought I read anger in his eyes. Apparently, Maelor did not appreciate being used for information…

My heart started racing at the sight of him, and I nearly missed the fact that Sion had already started speaking, or that the Pater stood behind him, draped in white. A silent phantom.

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