Page 113 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

The growl that follows feels like a lash. The sound so definitely not human, I fight not to cower. To keep holding my ground and look him in the eye when he snarls, fangs flashing with every word, “Where would you rather be? Back in your world? Because your world was so—enticing?” Again, he’s baring those vicious teeth fully, making a wild gesture with his hand. “Because you liked it so much? With Lyrian and his soullesslackeys?”

I shake my head.

The embers in his irises continue to singe me when he growls on, not yet done with me, his vast wings flaring wide behind him. “I saw in your blood, felt it—how much youhatedthat cold every single day. The relentless rain. To be locked away for days in thatcell.Ifeltit. Your desperation! Your panic. Your nightmares! Now tell me, isn’t this much better?”

It hits me like a whip—the fact that he’s seen in my blood all the awful things Lyrian did to me. Without my permission. Only to throw that intimate knowledge right back into my face.

“Good. Because then you know that I don’t want to be locked away anymore. I want to be free for once! Not to be at anyone’s mercy! Bowing to someone’s whims!” I seethe right back, all caution to hell. “Locked up and…”Hurt, being threatened and punished,I want to say but don’t. Instead, I take a step back. “You’re just like him.”

His eyes flare and for the split of a second, I see horror flashing over his features before it all gives way to an icy, soulless cold. And I know he’s going to slap me, smack me, whip me.

But then he sheathes the sword back into the scabbard on his back and speaks calmly, coldly, oddly collected, the ruffling of his wings the only sign of annoyance. “Get up.”

I watch him walk away, those ridiculously magnificent wings tucked in tight behind him, that lethal sword strapped down his spine between them. Despite my anger I hurry to catch up with him, struggling to keep pace while my adrenaline levels dwindle. And with it, reality returns in stark relief. A secret part of me is afraid I pushed him too far. That he will just change his mind and fly off, leaving me behind for another monster to feed on.

Another part is terrified of returning with him to the Fortress.

I will pay. I know I will pay for this.

He’s still furious, his aura a caliginous midnight river streaked with red. His whole being shedding heat and tension. He doesn’t talk to me the whole way back, doesn’t once turn to me, not even when he effortlessly climbs those stairs back up to the Fortress, keeping his wings elegantly above the ground.

And I, already tired, fall behind.

Hell, every part of my body aches. My bones, my muscles, every fiber.

We get in through the same door I sneaked through, the wards dissolving at the touch of Caryan’s hand, a mere ripple in the air.

Caryan finally pauses in the tiny corridor in front of the stairs. I watch how he closes his eyes, rolls his shoulders once, and those wings vanish in the blink of an eye. He starts to walk up the stairs, again not waiting for me, his black clothes unscathed on his back, leaving no trace of what I just saw.

I follow him unasked, trying hard not to think of what exactly will happen next. Not while I trail him up the corridor that leads to his private rooms.

But my body is already tensing with the prospect of violence.

We meet no one on our way, but the music of the festival haunts me up to the huge door and the strange, talking head I actually have a fondness for.

“Welcome, my lord,” the door says, swinging open. Although the head doesn’t greet me this time, I have the feeling that it wants to but deems it better not to.

Caryan strides in, still heedless of me. Another door to my left, opposite the library, swings open, revealing a kitchen and a living room behind it. Kitchen counters made of a single block of moonstone greet me, glistening like his wings in the light.

Caryan walks over to a fridge to pour himself a drink while I silently come after him. I pause in the doorway, lost, my arms protectively folded around me. He still isn’t looking at me as he takes a long sip. I watch the elegant movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

When he eventually turns to me, his eyes settle on me with predatory intensity.

I’m careful to keep the kitchen counter between us as he takes a step closer.

He pauses, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a cruel smile. “You look like you want to hide from me. Run from me. Again.”

I swallow, hard. All the useless fury in my belly curdles into feral fear.He knows. The way his eyes shine, I know he knows.

“Do you want to run from me right now?” he asks, his voice deep and laced with cruel amusement.

“I do,” I whisper truthfully, my eyes not once leaving the savage amber of his irises.

“Well—” he makes an elaborate gesture with the glass in his hand “—it would definitely be entertaining to watch you try now.”

My gaze drops to my hands. I force myself to stay rooted to the ground as he prowls closer, steps soft as a whisper. His aura is still a storm, brimming with fury and violence.

His power brushes up against me, against my torn clothes, raw skin, and wind-wild hair. I swallow.

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