Page 52 of Prince of Ruin

I tuck my smile between my teeth.

“What?” he asks, his own mouth curving into a small smile.

“It’s just…I’m usually the one who takes control in the bedroom. But I think it’s because I’m surrounded by fae and vampires and creatures far more powerful than me, who could end my life in moments, even if it’s by accident. I want to show them I’m not weak. I want them to know they don’t have to be gentle with me, so I take control, exert dominance. Yet they’re gentle all the same, no matter how rough or dominant I am with them.” I lick my lips and turn to myside to fully look at him. “But with you…it’s different. I like you taking control. I love how rough you are with me. I love that you know that I can take it.”

He blinks, then reaches out with his hand and cups my cheek. “This is going to sound fucking sick, but sometimes I have fantasies about you and Tarsus fucking me at the same time…while I’m a prisoner. I’m not usually into BDSM or kinks, but, like, when I had those chains around my wrists that first night and Tarsus was inches from my face, I got so hard imagining them kissing me. Fucking me.” He huffs. “That’s fucked up, isn’t it?”

I can’t hide my smile. “Sounds like you’ve been reading too many books with a long list of trigger warnings.”

A husky chuckles escapes him.

“Maybe one of these days we’ll reenact this…fantasy,” I add.

“Not sure Tarsus would be on board.”

“I’ve seen the way they look at you. I’ve felt the way they fuck me right after they see you. I don’t think it’ll take much to convince them.”

The way his eyes shine warms my heart. Clav has this magnetic energy about him. A joy that filters off his body like sunlight in summer time, and apparently I’m deficient in Vitamin D.

He moves closer, closes his eyes as he leans in for a kiss, but then he flinches and jerks back. The smile is wiped off his face, a look of pure horror taking its place as he stares at his hand.

I follow his gaze…and…oh.

Oh no.

His pinky—his last pinky—the one he swore with hours ago—has turned an ugly shade of gray. He sits up abruptly, his eyes wide and his mouth open as if in a silent scream. My chest tightens. Has he been lying all this time? I scoot away from him, nearly falling off the bed and stumbling back, hands up in defense. His gray eyes dart to mine and he shakes his head.

“Aden—I-Iswear—” He throws his head and releases a guttural scream as his pink slowly peels off his hand, dropping to the bed. A dead appendage. “Fuck!” His voice is on the verge of tears as he stares at his now-four-fingered hand. He lifts both hands in front of his face. Both hands without a pinky. And now…now a tear slips down his cheek. His shoulders convulse with fresh sobs as he covers his face with his four-fingered hands. “Tarsus is going kill me now.”

His low, husky voice rips my heart in two, and I tentatively move closer, wanting to comfort him, yet heeding Tarsus’ warning that all this is an act. If I touch him, will he pin me to the bed and strangle me?

“C-Clav?” His name is a gentle whisper on my lips. “Please, tell me why your pinky is gone, if you claim to not remember anything.”

He lowers his hands and looks at me through red-rimmed eyes. “I swear, Aden. I don’t remember anything. I don’t know why—” His voice chokes off in a sob and he pulls his knees up, crossing his arms over them as he buries his face into his folded arms. “Never mind. You won’t believe me anyway.”

I stare at his shuddering body, listen to the sobs wracking out of him because he thinks he’s going to die in the morning. My heart goes out to him. Like, it legit feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest while I watch him sob like this. And fuck it. If this is all an act, then fuck him. But fuck me if I just stand by the boy I’ve come to care a bit too much for when he needs me.

I slowly crawl back onto the bed, settling beside him while I stroke his back comfortingly. I’m not sure if he’ll pull away and put up a wall, ignore me, or tell me to fuck off, but I’m surprised when he leans into me. Wrapping both arms around him, I hold him while he sobs, telling him not to panic, that we’ll figure it out, until his body stops shaking from the sobs.

“Let’s think this through,” I whisper into his hair, trying to ease his panic. “Why do you think your finger would fall off, Clav?”

He pulls away from me, his cheeks blotchy from crying, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed as he looks at his hands, as if verifying that he truly lost his other pinky.

“I swore that I didn’t remember anything of my past life,” he says, lowering his hands. “And, I mean, I don’t remember anything…tangible.” He chews his lips and lifts his red-rimmed eyes to the ceiling. “But since I came to this realm, I’ve been having these nightmares and visions. When I picked up my father’s skull, when I first saw the bone palace, when I was momentarily knocked out after leaping off the balcony….”

His voice trails off and he shakes his head as he stares across the room. “I guess they must be some sort of ancient memories. And I told Tarsus, IsworeI didn’t remember a single thing.” He looks at me. “But I guess I lied. To him…and to myself. Because I do remember the way my father looked at me just before I drove my sword through his heart. I chose the sword over the obsidian dagger, because I didn’t want him to turn to ash. I wanted to carry his severed head into the throne room with me. I wanted everyone to see what I’d done, so they would fear me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, leans his head back against the headboard. “And when I sat upon the Throne of Bones, with the Crown of Teeth upon my brow…I remembered what it felt like to rule the world and hunger formore. I remember the look in Tarsus’ eyes…when he still loved me.”

Reaching over, I link Clav’s long fingers through mine while placing my other arm around his shoulders.

“It’s like you said.” His voice is husky as he looks at our linked fingers. “I feel like a stranger is trapped deep within my marrow, and he’s trying to get out. When I’m asleep, he fills my head with terrible memories. When I’m mad, he clutches my heart in his fist and urges me to act on my rage.” He swallows and shakes his head, a teardrop slipping down his cheek. I reach up and brush it away, my heart splitting in two when he meets my gaze. “I don’t want him to come out, Aden. I’m fucking terrified that if he takes over, if this Clavicle somehow gains control of this body…the real me, the mortal me, will just disappear. Or worse, be trapped in the mind of a ruthless killer.”

I cling to his hand. “I won’t let that happen. I have so many powerful friends. So many people who work with all kinds of magic. There will be a way to stop that from happening, I swear it.”

But even as the words leave my lips, I’m not so sure. Because curses take things and twist them around to how they’re not supposed to be—like taking a fae and turning him mortal. Light Magic takes those same things and makes themright. And if Sovereign Clavicle was the original owner of this body, then thisbody is his by right. No amount of Light Magic will turn him back, no matter how fucked up this king might be. Which means Wolfsbane, the Terra Witch who sold their soul to their Shadow, might be our only option at keeping my precious human Clav here.

The only question is: will this human version of Clav be able to sway Mother Terra from demanding human sacrifices the same way SovereignClavicle would?

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