Page 7 of The Fallen
THE SHADOWS THAT TEMPT ME
KOTA QUINN
PROLOGUE
BLAZE
Dizziness threatens my already broken body. I tremble as I stand, but lose my footing. My body slams into the dirty brick wall of my prison, and my gaze immediately bounces to the lone window, my only beacon of hope over the last year. Thick raindrops slide against the glass, and thunder booms viciously, like the storm raging in my heart.
“Blaze, Blaze, Blaze,” Orson tsks, shaking his head, golden hair falling into his face. “If you’d just tell me where the damn spell book is, all this would stop.” He waves his hand around the dank room before falling over my bruised body.
Lies. With what little power I have left running through my veins, it’s enough to tell me he’s a filthy fucking liar. I’m going to die here.
“Fine,” I rasp.
Orson’s ice-blue eyes widen in shock. He leans in, eager to finally hear something new from me. You’d think with the amount of truth serum he’s poured down my throat, he would know the truth when he hears it.
As if sensing my deception, he pulls out his dagger and lightly traces it over my stomach. I’m too weak to pull away, too afraid of the metal cutting into my flesh. At one point, I hoped the pain would numb me, but I’m pretty sure he’s spelled my body to feel everything.
My abdomen pulls in tight, quivering under his dagger.
I’m going to die here.
Tears brim my eyes. It’s been a year since Orson, my betrothed, took me and held me captive against my will. A year of torture, and not once has a tear spilled onto my cheek until today. Fuck.
I’m going to die here.
“Blaze,” Orson hisses, placing his dagger back in its sheath and tenderly wiping the tear away before cupping my face. “You wouldn’t be planning to lie to me, would you?”
A sob rips through me as I lean into his touch. I hate the man, but it’s been over a year since I’ve felt anything so sweet. I’m submissive to the core, a trait I’ve fought hard to hide, not only because I’m tall at six-foot-five, but because I’m the prodigal son of the Sinclair coven. The next in line to inherit the bulk of the Sinclair magic.
“Pathetic.” Orson backhands me, and I crumble to the ground with a sickening crunch. Sharp pain shoots from my wrist and up my arm, momentarily causing me to go blind.
I force my eyes open.
My vision narrows on the man my family thought would be my perfect match. The man I knew would use me for the rest of my life. I spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground and muster all my strength.
Then, I laugh. And laugh. “I will never tell you where the grimoire is. And I will never marry you.”
Fury flashes in his eyes. “You fucking fool.” Spittle flies from his mouth. This time, when he rips the dagger out of his sheath, Iknow this is the end. He’s tired of my games. Tired of not having the book in his possession. I have no idea where the family grimoire is, and I’m glad it’s safe. Per Sinclair tradition, the firstborn inherits the core magic of our past bloodline, just as it’s tradition for the secondborn to hold on to the family grimoire. All that power shouldn’t go to one person.
Sprawled on the ground, I finally close my eyes to accept my fate, happy knowing I didn’t betray my family.
To my surprise, the pain never comes. I open my eyes to see Orson kneeling next to me, a calculating smile on his handsome face.
He jabs the handle of his blade against my side. “That’s fine. I never planned on marrying you. Did you know your family thinks you ran away?”
My mouth drops open, but he continues. “While you were down here rotting and wasting my time, I was up there leading the search party, brokenhearted and trying to understand why my betrothed left.”
“No,” I rasp.
“The family must transfer the Sinclair magic soon; your poor nana is growing fragile. So, they plan on marrying off your sweet little brother. Autumn truly is a beauty. More my type with his stunning eyes and tiny body.”
I shake my head, heart pounding.
Orson leans in closer, whispering right into my ear. “Autumn will marry me, you see. And I know from how close I’ve grown to him he doesn’t want all this magic. I’m sure he’ll give me the grimoire in no time. And if he doesn’t? How beautiful will he sound when I make him scream?”
“No!” I roar, wrapping my big hand around his. It’s still clutching the handle, jabbed into my side. I force it forward with all my strength, and almost sag in relief when I feel it pierce his flesh.
