Page 19 of Vow of the Shadow King

“Beg me, Faraine.” He shifts his grip so that he can hold both my wrists with one large, powerful hand, freeing up the other. Slowly, languorously, he trails one finger along the line of my cheek, my jaw, down my throat. There, he encounters the chain of my necklace, which he loops once, twice, around his thumb. With a vicious tug, he breaks it and tosses my crystal pendant to the floor. “No!” I cry, trying to dart after it. He grips my shoulder and pushes me back into the wall. I’m helpless in his grasp.

“I’m waiting,” he says. “I might yet hear you. If you weep.” He bends in closer, nuzzling my cheek, his breath against my ear. “I like tears, Faraine.”

I shake my head fiercely. I won’t do it. I won’t give him the satisfaction. His lips press against my temple, my jaw, my neck. The hand on my shoulder tightens around a fistful of fabric. With a predatory growl, he yanks it back, exposing more skin. His mouth, hungry and hot, moves down my throat, tasting, ravenous. Teeth scrape against sensitive flesh while his tongue flicks over my wildly racing pulse. I sink further, deeper into the well of his pain, drowning.

He draws back, hisses through his flashing teeth. Slowly, he releases his hold on my robe. His hand slides instead to my waist, fingers working to undo the belt buckle. His knee nudges between my legs, forcing them apart.

“Beg for mercy, Faraine. Your king commands it.”

“Vor,” I breathe. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t I?”

I’m weeping now. Tears stream down my face. Never would I have believed this man could be so cruel, so base, so violent. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have thought I loved him? Desperately I look up into his face. Gone are the pale, silvery eyes of the man I knew. Instead, I gaze into two black voids.

Suddenly, I am standing outside of my body, poised on the brink of a terrible chasm. I stare over the edge, down into impenetrable darkness from which hot blasts of air belch, burning my skin. I wheel my arms, trying to find my balance, trying to draw back again. But it’s too late.

I fall.

Unembodied, helpless, hopeless, I pitch into oblivion. The heat intensifies, until I’m sure it will burn away my very being, leaving nothing but the hollowed-out core of my body behind. I try to scream, try to grasp at the walls, but I can do neither. I can do nothing but fall and burn and fall and burn—

With a painful gasp, my whole body spasms. I blink hard, shocked to find myself embodied once more, still pressed against that wall. Vor’s strong hand grips my hipbone underneath the skirt of my robe, his fingers hot against my skin. I jerk my head up, look into his eyes.

Silver eyes.

Wide with shock. With horror.

“Faraine?” he gasps. “Faraine, what . . . what have I . . .?”

In that moment, the room begins to quake.

8

VOR

Darkness fills my head. Darkness and burning and rage. Pulsing in my veins, pulsing through my bones, my flesh, my spirit.

Soon there will be nothing else.

I am the darkness.

I am the burning.

I am the rage.

I am . . . I am . . .

A sweet note of music bursts in my head, faint but clear. Bright as a silvery morning. I don’t know from whence it sings. It dominates my senses, pierces through the storm and fire in my head. So delicate, I feel I could catch it, shatter it in my palm. But when I search, it eludes me. Draws me. Step by step. Suddenly, the darkness parts like clouds of smoke, and I’m staring down into a pale, upturned face.

Faraine!

She’s afraid. Those strange eyes of hers, so beautiful, so otherworldly, brim with dread. My chest tightens. My heart feels burned and raw. Who has frightened her? Who has dared? I close my eyes, shake my head, desperate to clear away the last of the roiling dark that clouds my thoughts. Wrenching my eyes back open, I look down at her again. I will find whoever did this to her. I will find him and rend him limb from limb. I will . . . I will . . .

I look down.

Down at my own hand pressed against her bare flesh.

Down at her body. Trembling, exposed to my gaze.

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