Page 51 of The Fated and the Damned
I shifted to see András with an arm around Margit’s shoulder. Her jaw was set, her eyes burning. She knew better than anyone what toll magic could take, but understood it was necessary. Or maybe she just knew I’d let nothing stop me. I think the pair of us had always had an unspoken agreement when it came to magic, forged after I’d been so quick to judge her for her bloodmorphia addiction when we’d first met.
Her strength was something I deeply admired. The slight tremble to her chin was the only sign of her sadness and fear. The tiny crack in her façade. I took a deep breath, untangling myself from Dante’s arms.
“We know what the crown is and what it can do. Do you know where it is?”
Her lips twisted, but she nodded. “As you suspected, I believe the crown is in the Under World, hidden in what’s referred to as a pocket realm. The reason Fate hasn’t been able to find it is because Sylvie used blood magic.”
Interesting. “And Fate can’t use this magic?”
Margit shook her head, her silky black hair swaying. She scrounged through her stacks of books on the table and unearthed a new one, flipping through the pages and jabbing at the one she wanted with her nail. “Like witches, who are gifted the power of an element and have a connection with the earth and its energy, demi-gods like Fate and Death are bound by their environment. Death thrives off the pain and torment of the souls in his care, whereas Fate is granted foresight. Unlike me, she can tinker with people’s fates, though obviously that doesn’t always end well.”
I grinned. “Not if we have anything to say about it.”
“So how does this blood magic work?” Dante asked from where he’d moved to lean against the table. He looked so damn delicious in his regalia, I had to stop myself from drooling at the muscles threatening to burst out of his tunic.
“That’s just it,” Margit said slyly, her lips curving. “Only one with the same blood running through their veins can do the spell and enter the pocket realm. Quite clever of Sylvie, but she probably wasn’t counting on her descendant fetching the crown on her behalf.”
András cocked his head. “Maybe not back then, but Sylvie is no fool. She knows Kitarni will be looking for it. This could be a trap.”
“Perhaps,” I said, curling a strand of hair around my finger thoughtfully, “but it changes nothing. Death and Fate will have their minions hunting for the first sign of Sylvie in the Under World—maybe even set wards to keep her out. But they have no one looking for us.”
András snorted. “It would be a nice change if our lovely lady can refrain from charging in palms blazing.”
Everyone looked at me in varying shades of amusement. Dante’s lips quirked, and András raised a brow. “What?” I said indignantly, throwing my hands up. “I know how to be stealthy when needed.”
This time they all glanced between each other and I huffed. “Fine. I promise not to burn anyone unless provoked.”
“My little hellcat can’t help her murderous tendencies,” Dante said, pressing a kiss to my cheek. The graze of his stubble sent a soft shiver over my skin and I turned, hooking my arms around his neck.
“Only because my husband has a tendency to provoke them.”
His expression darkened, his muscles tightening under my grasp. “Oh, Freckles, but you make it so hard not to.”
TWENTY-THREE
Dante
“Thankthegodsforbeds,” Kitarni groaned, flinging herself face down on ours.
I chuckled, sitting beside her and patting her ass sympathetically. “It’ll take some getting used to. Nobles are like vultures circling, waiting for the perfect moment to tear you to shreds.”
She lifted her head to peer over her shoulder. “I’d rather face my enemies in battle than exchange loaded words and deal in politics. How do you do it?”
I shrugged as I slid my boots off and began peeling my shirt away. “Years of patience and knowing when to step back and regroup. Plus wine. You can never have enough wine.”
Kitarni sat up and shifted, reclining as she watched me undress, her eyes roving over my body hungrily. “Patience isn’t my strong suit,” she said with a sly smile. “But I can help with two of those things.”
“Stay,” I commanded, striding over to a bench to pour us both a goblet of red and handing her one. “Drink with me.” She did as I asked, tipping the wine past her red lips, her kohl-lined eyes watching me like a cat. There was something so sensual about the way she bared her throat to me. When she licked her lips, I felt myself grow hard. “Take off your dress.”
She smiled, seeming to enjoy the dominance in my tone. “Is that a command, my lord?”
I flashed her my dimples, leaning against the bedpost as I looked down at her. “A suggestion, a command, call it what you will, but I would have you naked and bared before me, so that I might appreciate my latest asset.”
Her eyes glittered, only the moonlight beaming through the balcony doors cresting upon her skin. “An asset, am I?” she asked dangerously. “And if I disobey?”
“You won’t,” I replied, leaning down to trail one finger over her calves, up her thighs, beneath her skirts. When I reached the apex of her legs, I dragged my thumb up her centre, swirling over her nerves. She was already wet for me and she smiled knowingly at my touch.
I drank my wine leisurely, still circling my finger lazily, enjoying the way her nose scrunched up as she tried to stay still and quiet. But I had her. I had all of her.
