Page 106 of A Kingdom of Destruction

Nerves at being in bed with Cillian disappeared in an instant, replaced by a flash of fiery alarm when he turned to her with the knife in his hands. The dagger glinted, hungry for her blood.

She had to move.MOVE!

Aven scrambled off the bed. Cillian lunged, grabbing her ankle and hauling her back toward him.

Aven screamed and turned around on her back to face him, her hands unable to find purchase in anything other than her discarded dress.

Cillian drew her with unmatched strength and a rippling wave of his fae power. She had just enough room to draw up her free leg before he was on top of her. She ignored the punishing hold on her ankle and the way the dagger glinted in the glow of the overhead chandelier.

She pushed every thought aside that had nothing to do with getting the hell out of here. Despite the black panic rushing in, she kicked out, managing to land a blow against Cillian’s chest.

No.

This wasn’t happening.

Not today.

Not at the hands of the man who claimed to love her.

Lies. It wasalllies.

Her chest tightened, each breath a struggle. Cillian’s nails bit into her flesh as he pulled again. If she didn’t get out, he’d flay her alive.

Aven kicked repeatedly. “Stop it!” she screamed. “You have to stop it now!”

He only came closer and swiped in a downward arc with the dagger. She managed to twitch to the right and slammed against the sharp corner of the bedside table.

Cillian might have considerable strength, but so did she. She blinked away the pain. The questions. The emotions. Tightening her abdomen, she lifted and smashed her fist against his cheek.

She was a survivor. No matter what happened, she’d make it out of this room.

Aven tightened her abs and smashed her fist into Cillian’s cheek. The sides of her ring cut deep, blood welling from thewound. He roared in pain, but she didn’t stop. She rammed her elbow into his ribs, again and again, until his grip loosened.

Cillian growled, ignoring the gash on his cheek. He sliced down, the dagger burying itself in the nightstand.

Aven wrenched free, scrambling for the door. Cillian swore, one hand on his cheek, the other wrapped around the dagger’s hilt. He turned to her with his eyes lit in a glare.

“There’s nowhere for you to run. This has to happen, Aven.” He drew it free from where it embedded in the wood. “Everything is going according to plan.”

She crawled, desperate to put distance between them. “No! Please stop!”

In a heartbeat, Cillian was on her, the wicked blade pressed to her throat. The cold metal bit into her skin.

“Don’t you understand?” he panted. “You’re the entire reason this war ends, Aven. With your death.”

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Aven’s imagination conjured tears in Cillian’s eyes, although she had no way of knowing. And why would he cry? He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to sacrifice her.

Her gaze fixed on a small spot on the floor ahead of her, and the only thing she felt was the blade, her throat working compulsively. She swallowed hard, knowing any movement, wrong or otherwise, would result in her splitting open.

Her breathing went raw, ragged. She had to find some way to get out of here. She had to dosomethingto save herself.

Cillian only pressed the blade closer to her throat until it scraped her skin, and she practically smelled the reek of her terror.

She was stuck.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. I can make your death an easy one,” he whispered against her ear. “If you let me do what I need to do, then it will be over in an instant. I promise.”

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