Page 41 of Ash and Feather

I wokeup in my bed with no clear memory of falling asleep.

I’d been more tired than I cared to admit, it seemed.

Karys was curled against me, her head resting on my chest. I brushed aside the hair in her face. Just grazing her skin with my fingertips flooded me with fresh desire, warming the space around us and making the dim flames in the fireplace jump.

I halfheartedly tried to force the energy down, but it made no difference; her magic was already responding, simmering to life and intertwining with mine, adding to the heat and light blooming around us. Faint marks appeared on her arms—swirls of black and red that pulsed bright one moment, pale the next.

My marks.

My claim, growled some deep, primal part of me that I didn’t particularly like. It sounded like the same monstrous voice that I’d battled as a younger god. A violent voice I thought I’d gotten rid of—but now it was back. It had been coming back more and more frequently ever since I’d let myself fall for the one sleeping beside me now. And it was insistent, trying to convince me thatviolence and bloodshed were the only solutions when it came to keeping her safe.

A sliver of the brighter firelight caught on the edge of her jaw and throat, illuminating the old burn scars covering those spots. My gaze lingered for a moment on them, then dropped to her chest, still as bare as mine.

Even though she was pulled against me in such a way that most of her was covered, I could still see the top of the newer scar that ran alongside her heart.

I had to turn away again at this point, to put more space between us—not because I was fighting a desire to claim her, but rather to murder someone on her behalf.

The room was heating to the point that even I was starting to sweat.

Moth, who rested on the perch I’d built for him by the window, lifted his head and gave me an uncertain look. His ears drooped, his tail was tucked, his ruby eyes were wide. Afraid.

I breathed out a long sigh.

I was going to have to get a hold on all these violent cravings. There were too many battles ahead of us—enough to have me running in circles until the end of my days if I didn’t stop chasing every vicious urge I had.

I reclined stiffly against the pillows, still close to Karys but not quite touching her; it was easier to think clearly when we weren’t touching.

I stared at the ceiling for the better part of the next hour, lost in thought, until I felt a telltale shiver in the air that warned me of approaching power.

Moth hopped from his perch to the windowsill and peered outside, letting out a low, anxious purr.

“Company,” I muttered to him.

Expected company, but the feel of magic foreign to my territory still triggered a response, sending more heat rushing from the core of my being to the surface of my skin.

As before, I tried to settle the borderline violent energy, but Karys again must have felt it—or maybe sensed the approaching company herself—because she stirred, reaching for my arm.

“What is it?” she asked softly. She pulled closer to me without opening her eyes, pressing her face into my arm as though she didn’t want to see whateveritwas.

“The meeting I mentioned last night…the others are arriving.”

“Already?”

“We’ve been asleep for quite some time, I think.”

She mumbled in protest but slowly rolled away from me and sat up. She looked disoriented for a brief moment, hair sticking out at odd angles, sheets clutched against her breasts. But then she was on her feet just as quickly, a determined look overtaking her face.

She went to one of the wardrobes in the corner and hesitated only a moment before yanking it open, mumbling to herself as she pawed through the garments inside. Though it was smaller than the wardrobe in her own room, there was still no shortage of things for her to choose from.

Rieta had been excited for the chance to fill all of these closets; she’d been fond of sewing when we lived in Altis. She’d created many of the garments by hand, rejecting all offers of magical help, and Karys had willingly assisted her by drawing up patterns and the like.

Karys draped one of those garments over her arm before disappearing into the adjoining washroom.

She reemerged a few minutes later, fully made over. Her hair was woven into a crown of braids, her eyes bright and fierce in the firelight. The dress she’d chosen was quite simple, fallingin tiers that draped longer in the back than the front, its color reminiscent of the shadowy green of a deep forest. It had none of the enchanted embellishments that often featured on the clothing donned by our kind—yet somehow the mortal-styled clothing made her lookmorelike a goddess, not less.

I didn’t realize I was staring until she drew to a stop, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, looking herself up and down. Her hands smoothed invisible creases from the dress, the agitated movements betraying the true nerves she felt about what awaited us outside this room.

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