Page 92 of Of Song and Scepter
“And leave me alone in a cage? I don’t think so, Wicked. If I’m going into hiding, then you’re coming with me.” I already have a spot in mind. The romance may be ruined for the evening, but I can at least show her the royal vault. I know of a knife or two in there Enna would melt to see. “We can have some fun.”
She tugs her jaw out of my grip. “I’m going to find Odissa.”
Stubborn female. “You want me to hide? I have the perfect spot in mind, and you’re coming with me,” I growl, grabbing her by the waist. I sling her over my shoulder and march down the hall. “Nara, we’ll be locked in the vault.”
“Soren!” Enna snaps. Her hands scrabble against my back, accompanied by her furious grunting. “Soren, let me go!”
I slap my palm onto her plump ass, and she squeaks. My cock hardens at the sound. If she wants to hide out with me, then fine. I rest my hand on her ass, smoothing the sting. She jostles as I reach the stairs, and her panicked words come out in short bursts.
Enna twists her head, sinking her teeth into the skin of my arm. I slap her ass again. If she really wanted to escape, she would. She settles then, her body relaxing under my grip.
We pass a cluster of guards, and they watch us with widening eyes.
The hallway darkens, lit only by a few scattered sconces. The air is damp down here, the stone walls carved deep into the floorof the sea. At the end of the tunnel sits a thick, iron door, locked with an intricate magical mechanism.
The siren guard at the door shifts at our approach, avoiding staring too much.
Enna squirms again, and I adjust my grip, slinging her forward into my arms. Her legs wrap around my hips.
“You missed the point,” she whispers. “She’ll try to kill you. It’s what Odissa does when she loses; she takes everyone down with her.”
“Not if you have anything to say about it, hmm?” I grip her ass and bend my mouth to her ear. “The way I see it, we’re going to go into this room and we’re going to hide, just like you want. Because I have a plan for us this evening, and I’m not about to let some killer from the Drink get in our way of a good time. Now tell me, Wicked, are you going to stand in the way?”
Enna shakes her head. My lips brush against her ear, and I exhale. The scales along the back of her neck rise.
“Never ask me to leave you again,” I whisper. “As if I could exist without you by my side. As if we could breathe without the same air. I need you like a fish needs water. You are my Audrina, directing the course of my tides. Face it, little thief. You’ve stolen my heart. Where you go, I go. You can’t rid me so easily.”
Her eyes melt before me, warm and needy. She tangles her fingers in my hair. “Is this your brilliant hideaway, then? The basement?”
With a growl, I clamp my lips over her wicked mouth, punishing her for not taking this moment seriously. Our tongues slide together, and we feast on each other as if we’re starved for weeks. Her nails scrape over my skin, dragging me closer. Her lips taste of passion, hunger, and something darker. I search the wet cavity of her mouth for that darkness, determined to blot it out with my tongue. Her fangs cut the side of my tongue, and my blood swirls in her mouth.
“Soren.” She moans my name, her voice still tinged with anxiety. The two should not exist in the same space.
I cup her face. Her lip trembles. I suck it between mine to stop the anxious movement, but when I look to see the effect of my efforts, it continues its restless quiver.
“Come. I have something to show you.”
She unfolds herself from my waist and drops to the floor. I take her hand in mine, my heart squeezing in anticipation as we face the door to the royal vault. Inside, she’ll have her choice of the royal jewels, and I’ll have my queen at last.
“This is better than the basement, Wicked. This is the door to your future and my undoing.”
With a steady, ringing Voice, I sing the song of my ancestors. The mechanism on the door unlatches with a grating creak and a thudding boom.
Chapter fifty-nine
Enna
The room brims withjewels in a glittering display of wealth gathered over millennia. Towering marble walls stretch toward a ceiling I can hardly see, each wall carved with thousands of pockets in the rock. Gems and jewelry display within the pockets, arranged with delicate care to highlight each object’s best feature in the dim, sparkling light. Weapons line the far wall: a crumbling trident, a diamond-encrusted scythe, and a tantalizing array of polished daggers.
A pedestal sits in the center of the room, lavished in velvet and holding a glass bell jar. Under the jar, the whitesteel shell pendant glints, misting with magic.
Soren grazes my back, tracing the path of my spine, and the flutters subside. He nudges me further into the chamber. “What do you think? See anything you like?”
I eye the daggers in the back of the room and imagine how it would feel to have a collection that large.
Soren follows my gaze and chuckles. He takes my hand to lead me closer. Our palms brush, and my heart leaps into a frenzy. I nearly forget about the knives until we come to a stop at the base of the wall.
“Let me guess which one is your favorite,” he says.
