Page 32 of The Demon Tide

“He’s notmyDeath Fae,” Tierney snaps back as Viger’s thrall engulfs her. She turns to glare at Viger.

Sweet gods, what is going on here?

Viger turns his terrifying stare on Tierney, but she’s too incensed to be intimidated by either one of them.

“Get hold of your thrall, Viger,” she seethes. “I fight my own battles.”

Viger has the audacity to bare his teeth at her in response.

“Really?” Tierney marvels, incredulous. “Are you going to bite me, then?”

Viger’s head gives a subtle flinch back, his mouth closing as the black smoke and every sense of his thrall withdraws.

“You two stay here and tear each other to shreds if you want,” Tierney snaps as lightning crackles through her internal power. A storm cloud forms above her head, spitting rain as she levels a glare at Fyordin. “Fight your allies, Fyordin Lir. It’s what you do best.”

“Where are you going?” Fyordin demands.

She takes a confrontational step toward him, fists balled. “To the bottom of the Vo.Alone.And, yes, I realize the Vo has claimed you too. But tonight, the Vo ismine. Stay out of my waters.”

Tierney turns away from them both, leaps onto the railing, dives off, and lets the cool waters of the river close around her.

When she emerges well past midnight, Viger is waiting for her.

He’s sitting high up on the tail of the Vo dragon sculpture, the stars above splashed across the sky, the warm breeze a subtle caress. River and air traffic is sparse, the city’s lights dampened, the rune-lit terrace deserted.

Tierney pulls herself from the water, throws the wet off herself, then crosses the terrace as Viger silently watches. There’s no sense of his thrall. Just that bone-deep silence that so often surrounds him that Tierney suddenly craves.

She climbs onto the dragon sculpture and takes a seat beside him. His horns and teeth are retracted, his snakes absent. But his claws are out. She turns and meets his dark eyes, and he makes no move to pull her into his thrall.

Are you going to kiss him at the bottom of the Vo?

She can sense that Viger’s thought escaped him, unbidden, from the sudden tension in his features and how the thought is whisked into oblivion, and she realizes how much fear must be wrapped around her attraction to Fyordin. Or Viger wouldn’t have been able to read it in her.

Do Death Fae kiss?Tierney wonders.Has Viger ever been kissed?And if we’re mind-connected by my fears, could I follow that connection into his fears, as well?

Do Death Fae even have fears?

Feeling reckless, Tierney inhales bracingly and opens herself to her fears—her fear of Vogel’s incursion into her waters. Of losing the last of her family to war. Of never being seen for who she truly is. Of falling for Viger Maul. Wave after wave of fears come flooding in, and she senses Viger engaging with them, like a lock clicking open.

She follows the connection into him.

Where a single fear hovers, connecting them, his snake-tongue senses returning to this same fear of his over and over, his thought slipping into her mind.

I want to court you.

Tierney draws back, stunned, as a look of pain flashes across his features and she reads not just this fear, but how much physical desire is wrapped up in it.

Viger turns into dark smoke and begins to drift into the night as Tierney’s emotions scrabble for purchase.

“Viger, come back,” she calls to the trace of misty black.

The mist vanishes, and an inexplicable sadness wells up in Tierney as she drops from the sculpture.

“Asrai.”

Tierney pivots to find Viger leaning against the dragon sculpture, his expression guarded.

“Viger,” Tierney offers, feeling awkward yet firm in what she needs from him. “It may be true that...well—” she fidgets, a flush blooming “—that we have some thoughts of interest toward each other.” She levels her gaze at him, ignoring her unbidden rise of feeling. “But I need you to be my friend right now. Nothing more. Can you be that for me?”

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