Page 125 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Alfie,” I grind out, face still smooshed against his chest. “You need to let go of me and walk away right now.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” he growls. “Enough with the lies.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Curl my fingers into fists.
“When are you going to admit it?” His fist tightens in my hair, ripping strands at my scalp. “Ever since we were young, you’ve been flirting with me like this. Give me a little, and then change your mind. You’re mine.”
He’s roughly jerked to the side—hit. But I’m tangled up with him. I fall, too. Another body is there, large and powerful, dominating Alfie. It takes me a moment to roll free and realize what happened. Bodin happened. His eyes are dark and murderous as he straddles Alfie, fisting his shirt, snarling in his face, “She’sours.”
Multiple sets of eyes watch us: Styx, standing to the side with an amused look; Lord Ignarius striding over, his dragon’s red eyes flashing as his own; Dahlia; Becky; Geraldine; and Max. Styx must haveflickeredto Bodin’s tent and shifted, restoring some of his sense, but now Bodin’s gone and done this—because of me.
He pins Alfie by the throat and repetitively punches him in the face. A snarled word punctuates each hit. “Touch. Our. Mate. Again. I. Dare. You.”
“Bodin,” I gasp. “People are watching.”
He shoves off. Alfie flops back, but he’s laughing despite his rapidly swelling face.
“You just broke the Old Code,” he gurgles through blood. “Twice.”
Bodin advances on him, jaw working. Every muscle in his body is tense, twitching, and ready to unleash. Instead, he rips Alfie’s charms from his chain and tosses them into the darkness. Every glamour, illusion, and magic trick disappears. The perfect symmetry of Alfie’s face, the virility, the godlike physique—gone. Even beneath the new wounds, it’s obvious. He ages in an instant. Not old, but not obscenely perfect. Dark circles under his eyes. A jagged scar runs under his chin. He should have been classed as a Nothing, but he found a charm to hide his imperfections. That’s why he was so convinced I could do the same.
Shock ripples around the spectators.
Ignarius arrives with Legion, demanding to know what’s happening. All the while, Styx’s eyes glimmer with humor.
“Inside the tent. Now.” Bodin’s voice rumbles low, a predator’s growl. His eyes, dark as the night, never leave mine. “Before I forget we have an audience, Calamity.”
Chapter 51
Willow
Ipace the confines of Bodin’s tent, my heart racing. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’ve really stepped in it this time. Way to go, Willow, queen of calamity.
Escape beckons, but the consequences of my actions loom large. And Alfie—a Nothing. The revelation stings.
Styx enters, his face a mask of reluctance. “I have to take you back to the keep,” he grumbles as if the words taste of bile.
Despite the inferno raging beneath my skin, I wrap my arms around myself, seeking comfort that eludes me.
Bodin returns with my pack and sword in hand. His eyes mirror my own sense of loss.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, strapping on the blade.
“Don’t be,” he replies, his tone softening. “You’re our queen?—”
“Mate,” I correct reflexively.
“—let us handle this.”
Styx reaches for my hand, a pained noise escaping his lips. “You need to get closer,” he reminds me, voice strained.
Bodin’s lips part as though he wants to say something but thinks better of it. His palm finds the space between my shoulder blades, gently urging me toward Styx. The contact sendsshockwaves through us both, and suddenly, the world blurs. My stomach lurches as reality shifts, and weflicker.
I stumble, finding my footing in glorious snow. Confusion sets in as I survey our surroundings. This isn’t the keep, but somewhere nearby. The air carries familiar scents.
“I can’t take you further,” Styx rasps, doubled over and panting. His eyes are wild and unfocused. “I’m not touching you anymore.” He shakes his hands as if to rid himself of my lingering touch, then vanishes into the night.
Fucking bastard.
