Page 34 of Fate and Fury

Emboldened, she pressed her lips to the Mark, and Niko gasped. She ran the tip of her tongue along the interlocking circles, tasting salt, and he shook against her.

He cupped her face, tilting her head back. His eyes had gone ink-dark, the gray swallowed by the black of his pupils. She had seen him look this way before—in the heat of a fight, before he struck the blow that brought his opponent to their knees. It had filled her with an odd, unspoken thrill then. It did the same now, vibrating through her bones and settling low in her belly.

Niko inhaled, taking in the shift in her scent. He nipped at her lower lip with sharp, white teeth, his hands weaving their way into her hair.

Katerina thought of other things she had seen those teeth do—in human and canine form—and knew a sensible person would be afraid. But fearing Niko was an impossibility. Far more reasonable that he should fear her. Or what Baba would do to the both of them should she come into the clearing and find them this way.

If Dimi Zakharova saw this, she would use it to end Katerina. To the Saints with exiling her from the Kniaz’s bed; this would be ammunition enough to destroy her. But the consort was miles away, her threat toothless. Right now, all that mattered was Niko, here in Katerina’s arms.

She lifted her chin and nipped him back, a challenge. A faint coppery taste filled her mouth and he growled in warning, pulling her hard against him. Like called to like, as Baba had always said: Her body recognized his blood and called to it, wanting more. The amulet throbbed like a second heart, a throbbing that ran through her veins, a question that demanded an answer.

Niko’s hands tightened on her hips. He lifted her, walking them backward toward the flat stone that stood in the clearing, where they had picnicked when they were children. Then he lowered her down, as carefully as if she couldn’t destroy the forest around them with a single thought. The stone still held the heat of the day; she drew against it with her magic and a circle of rowan-fire sprang up around them, holding the rest of the world at bay.

He held himself still above her, his weight on his elbows, searching her face. “I swear on all we hold holy, Katya, you are the other half of me. You are my blood. You are my blade.”

The blaze raged higher still. At his sharp intake of breath, she looked down: its red glow outlined both their shapes, as if they had truly caught aflame. The light was a live thing between their bodies, twining, casting shadows. When he bent his head to kiss her, she tasted blood and fire.

Her hand rose, red in the firelight. It slipped under his shirt, tracing the length of the scars she knew as well as the lines of her palm, as Niko’s leg slid between hers. His dark hair came loose from its rawhide tie and fell forward, tickling her cheeks. The pressure of his hard body against hers felt both as natural as spellcasting and unbearably new. It felt too big for Katerina’s body to contain, spreading outward into the flames and the wind that swept through the forest.

She drew on the wind, letting a tendril of it creep through the circle. The breeze licked at Niko, brushing over every inch it could reach.

“Saints, Katya.” His voice was hoarse. “How could I want another woman, when everywhere I go, I feel your touch on my skin?”

“Do you give yourself to me, then?” The words were a caress, her lips tracing the line of his throat as he reared over her.

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Only if you want me,” he whispered. “Only if you want this.”

She flattened her hand on the small of his back, pressing him down to her. He came, letting her bear his weight. His eyes flickered open, meeting hers, the question in them clear.

He’d promised to throw himself into the face of danger if it meant she would survive. When they’d taken their vows, she had accepted his sacrifice as her due. But now—was his life worth so little, and hers so much? What would be left to her, if she lost him?

What would be left of him, if he failed? And what if they were caught? What then?

She thought, then, of the final lines of the prophecy:So will they forfeit what they love the most: Lost demon. Witchfire. Wandering ghost. So shall she burn as she brings his demise: The Dark will fall. The shadow will rise.

Niko seemed so sure it was an old wives’ tale. But what if it wasn’t? Could she really put him at risk for the sake of her selfish desires?

What if it meant Katerina would lose her magic, and her final act would be to bring about Niko’s death? That the Dark would be destroyed, but at the expense of his life? That he would ascend to the Saints and leave her behind, powerless to help?

She wouldn’t bear that. Shecouldn’t.

Hands braced on the rock, he drew back to see her face. “Katya?” There was doubt in his voice, uncertainty. Her heart broke at hearing him sound that way—Niko, whose bravado was as much a part of him as his grace with a blade or his need to protect anything defenseless.

She loved him. She wanted him. He was everything to her.

And this would have to end, wouldn’t it—when he married Elena, prophecy or no prophecy? For he would never walk back his engagement to the Vila. Say what he would; his father’s betrayal had marked Niko deeply. Every day, Niko fought to reclaim his good name. To atone for what had been done to his mother. This was temporary, and so she would savor it while it was hers to have.

She would give herself to him this one time, then. Once only. A single betrayal that surely wouldn’t be enough to bring the prophecy down upon them—for she still believed in it, even if Niko didn’t. She would keep the memory of this moment close, a precious thing, no matter who came between them.

She ran her fingertips over the silvered line that ran from his temple to his jaw. “A blade cuts deep, and leaves a scar. So, too, may what lives between us. Do you still want me, then?”

His lips rose in a fierce smile, tempered by sadness at what his words might cost them both. “More than my next breath.”

“I’m yours, then,” she said, and, lifting her shift above her head, let it fall. “But just this once, my Shadow. We can’t risk more.”

His eyes on hers were hot and hungry as he mirrored her, slipping free of his clothes. Under the Bone Moon, his Mark glowed, and around her neck, her amulet pulsed. She felt the echo of it everywhere, throbbing in her body, passing through her into him. He shook as he arched above her, as her witchfire lapped at his skin. “Just this once,” he vowed, and made of their bodies one twining, yearning thing.

Beneath him, Katerina burned. And deep in the woods, unseen by all but the owls roosting in the trees, the Darkness bared its teeth and uncoiled, feasting on the chaos to come.

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