Page 2 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

His hands roamed her curves, feeling the warmth of her skin through the damp silk.

It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Everything.

They stumbled backward until her back hit the willow tree. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of her throat. He nipped and sucked at the delicate flesh, marking her. Let the world see, let them all know?—

But no, this was a dream.

Come morning, she would be gone, and he would be left with nothing but the memory of her taste on his lips and the lingering scent of roses.

“Don’t go,” he murmured against her skin, his words a desperate plea.

Please, don’t ever go.

1

In the heat of battle, Skylar became a whirlwind of steel and secrets. Her blade, an extension of her iron will. Her heart, a fortress guarding forbidden truths. A woman’s body, hidden beneath the weight of a Duke’s responsibilities. Desires, burning bright, forever locked away.

“Left flank’s breaking!”

“Hold the line!”

Shouts pierced the air, urgent and desperate. This hellish symphony had been playing for weeks, with no end in sight.

Skylar’s sword met flesh, and she felt the sickening give as it sank into another Thorncrest soldier. The scrape of metal on bone made her insides crawl. Hot blood sprayed across her face, its warmth shocking against her cold-numbed skin. She watched the light fade from the man’s eyes, a final gurgling sound escaping his lips before he crumpled to the ground.

Disgusting.

Revulsion churned in her stomach as she yanked her sword free. The blade made a damp, slurping noise that turned her insides. There was no time to dwell on it. Another attacker was already upon her, his weapon raised high. Skylar’s musclesscreamed in protest as she ducked under the wild swing. She drove her pommel into his gut, feeling the impact reverberate up her arm. As he doubled over, she brought her knee up hard. The crunch of cartilage beneath the blow made her wince.

The bindings across her chest felt like bands of fire against her skin. Two days of constant fighting had left them damp with sweat and blood, chafing with each movement. Skylar longed to loosen them, to take just one full breath. But she couldn’t risk it, not even for a moment. Weakness wasn’t an option. Not when the entire kingdom believed her to be Duke Skylar Anathemark, protector of the realm and loyal servant to the crown.

A man.

Skylar pushed through the pain, gritting her teeth until her jaw ached. Her secret bore down on her, as suffocating as the leather armor that concealed her true form. Yet beneath her stoic exterior, Skylar sensed it—the Divine Beast stirring restlessly in the farthest edge of her consciousness. A phantom sensation of talons scraping against her ribcage made her shudder. The Divine Beast was growing impatient, begging to be unleashed. To end it all at once.

No. Not now. The cost was too high.

The battlefield stretched before her, a hellscape of mud and gore. What were once lush grasslands now lay as a churned wasteland. Bodies littered the ground, their lifeless faces turned accusingly toward the leaden sky. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Carrion birds circled overhead, their raucous cries a grim promise of the feast to come.

A flash of movement caught her eye. Arye. The Crown Prince of Regalclaw cut through the enemy ranks like a scythe through wheat, his blade a blur of silver and crimson. His raven-black hair whipped in the wind, stark against the golden armor thatgleamed even in the dim light. His face was a mask of cold fury, gray eyes glinting with merciless determination.

Their gazes met across the chaos of battle. For a heartbeat, Skylar saw a flicker of something softer pass between them, a silent communication born of years spent in each other’s orbit. Her heart skipped a beat, warmth blooming in her chest despite the carnage around them. Then it was gone as quickly as it had come, both turning back to the grim work at hand.

Skylar fought her way towards him, each step a struggle against the sucking mud and fallen bodies. Her muscles burned with exertion, but she pushed on, cutting down foes with ruthless efficiency.

“Your kill count’s rising, Your Highness. Trying to impress someone?”

She sensed rather than saw Arye’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Keep up, Duke,” he replied, his voice a low rumble. “I’d hate to see you fall behind.”

Skylar snorted, shaking her head even as she parried another blow. “Just try not to get yourself killed, Your Highness. I’d rather not face your father with bad news.”

Their banter, sharp as their blades, was cut short as a fresh wave of Thorncrest soldiers surged towards them. Enemy banners, blood-red thorns on a field of black, fluttered ominously in the wind. Skylar readied her stance, ignoring the burning pain across her chest.

“Left!”

Skylar ducked instinctively, feeling the whoosh of air as a blade passed over her head. She spun, her own sword finding its mark in the attacker’s exposed neck. The man’s blood gushed out, splattering her face and seeping into the short strands of her wig. The metallic scent filled her nostrils, making her stomach churn.

Damn it.

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