Page 50 of With Wing And Claw

‘You could make this so much easier for yourself, you know,’ Naxi murmured from the other side of the room, a flawless sympathetic sadness to her melodious voice. ‘You could simply be honest, for a start. Just because you’re a warrior doesn’t mean you need to fight yourself all the time.’

Honest.

Honesty was weakness, too.

‘I can’t,’ she heard herself breathe, feeling dizzy, light-headed. ‘I … I don’t know how.’

‘Oh, I’m well aware.’ Swift steps padded forward, and at once Naxi stood before her – eyes glinting in the dim light, two or three blood-red petals caught in her rebellious curls. ‘Do you need my help?’

No, she ought to say,no, of course I don’t need anyone, and you least of all.Needing help was dangerous, for the gods’ sakes. And giving in to a demon’s temptation was exactly what had landed her in this spot in the first place, a captive at her own court, a traitor about to be discovered; she’d be mad to make the same mistake again. She’d be—

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

All of a sudden, she was so fucking tired of fighting.

‘Oh, very good.’ Naxi’s voice was little more than a content purr – but herfinger, good gods, her finger came up and found Thysandra’s cheek, drawing an agonisingly slow line down her jaw, her chin. ‘What do you need from me, Sashka?’

That touch.

That blissful, impossible touch.

She tried to part her lips and couldn’t – tried to draw in a breath and found her lungs equally paralysed. Soft, feathery fingertips moved down the skin of her throat. A pleasure she didn’t deserve, couldn’t afford. Even if that gossamer caress was the last thing left in the world, her very own body wouldn’t allow her to admit it.

‘Can’t stop, can you?’ Naxi whispered, the words mingling like a spring breeze with the rustling leaves around them. ‘Can’t lay down the armour for even a minute?’

Because people were trying to kill her. Because outside this room, the court was plotting her imminent demise, and how,howwas she supposed to lose herself in mindless lust when—

Something nudged her shoulder.

She hadn’t realised her eyes had fluttered shut until they flew open.

It took about the time of a single gasp for the first vines to sweep around her upper arms – those same sinewy bonds again, crawling from the walls and ceiling to slither around her limbs, yanking at her legs until she had no choice but to stumble back. Her wings and spine thudded against the green quartz surface. Plants crept over herstomach, her chest, her throat the next moment, almost eagerly so, plastering her flush against the wall.

They slid around her wrists last, smooth yet rope-like against her skin as they swiftly pulled her arms to her sides.

Naxi was still smiling innocently.

‘What are youdoing?’ Too numb to struggle, she’d thought a moment before, but her limbs struggled all the same now, straining against the unflinching bonds. ‘Stop this! Why are you—’

‘I’m just helping, Sashka.’ That sweet, sing-song voice was much, much too amused for the panic flooding her veins again. ‘I’m just … taking the fight away from you.’

Sweat was breaking out on her lower back, between her wings. ‘What the hell?’

‘It’s really very simple,’ Naxi announced, stepping closer – two small, gingerly steps, as if she was balancing on some invisible tightrope. Against the background of vine-covered windows, she looked slight and fragile, more nymph than Thysandra had seen her in a long time. ‘You can’t feel guilty this way, can you? You can’t feel like you ought to know better. If some evil demon is forcing you, it’s really not your fault you’re getting what you want.’

Oh.

Oh.

She forgot to fight, just for a moment, forgot to be furious or frightened as billowing relief swept over her. Only her lips moved, out of habit rather than driven by any conscious thought. ‘But—’

‘Hush, Sashka.’ A slender finger settled over her lips, the touch searing through her like a brand. ‘I feel what you feel, remember?’

Her gods-damned relief.

Worse, her skin waking up in the embrace of her bonds, aching and craving, begging for more … Plump, pouty lips, far too close to her own. Willowy limbs, nimble hands, fingertips she’d felt in her feverish daydreams for decades upon decades. A sight that smouldered all the way down, anticipation sinking like molten fire beneath her navel … and Naxi would know about it.

Naxi wouldalwaysknow.

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