Page 4 of Queen of Ashes and Scars
Arielle feeding on me was one thing, but the thought of Keenan tasting me…of me fighting hima little…
Two minutes.
I close my bedroom door behind me and lean against it, my chest heaving. My nails grate the wood at my back as I take stock of my possessions and quickly decide I don’t need to pack anything. I was allowed to bring a few trinkets from my old life but I obstinately refused, so all my things are new and devoid of sentimentality.
One minute.
A servant runs down the corridor, and loud chatter erupts into my bubble.
They know about the escape, about me. It’s all over.Whatever happens next, I can’t let them use me to get her back, so a quick death might be for the best…
Keenan blinks inside the room—I knew he was coming, and yet I gasp when he appears. My fists clench at my sides as I ponder what kind of fight he expects, and what fighting hima littleactually entails.
I don’t know what I expected. I thought he would pounce on me the way Arielle did the first night, and I was prepared to resist, half of it for show, half of it because of the gut-wrenching fear twisting my insides. But all the vampire bites I’ve heard about or lived through couldn’t have prepared me for an angel’s kiss.
Keenan glides towards me, the lull of his powers like wraith hands prying out my heart and leaving a hollow space in its place. The emptiness is filled with a desperate need for him, an eerie warmth that erases all thoughts of others.
Dark, velvety wings flicker at his back, and my breath catches in my throat.
So beautiful.
An angel of death.
He cradles my head with his big hands, and my knees wobble, my whole body held upright by the thread of his touch. My stomach flip-flops as our noses touch. Hope and sorrow mingle on his breath, his eyes bluer and deeper than a pure summer sky.
I open my mouth, his tongue quick to take advantage as we discover each other, I can’t resist the urge to run my hand through his soft curls. Passion doesn’t have to be rough, and the slow kiss disarms me more than if he’d hurt me, and maybe in that quiet assault lies the treachery of his magic.
There’s no fear or doubt—only peace. Peace for my lost life, my bitter heart, and all the parts of me I wished I could erase, especially the one that craves this.
The anger I felt when Arielle fed from me simmers under the surface, but it’s not able to touch me, and I abandon myself to him.
He nibbles my ear lobe, his voice full of longing. “Do you want me to bite ye, Leo?”
My body tingles in anticipation. “Yes.”
Long teeth pierce my jugular with skill, the painful sting quick to relent. The perfect blend of pain and self-loathing keeps me captive in Keenan’s arms as he drinks from me with care, the hard planes of his chest pinning me to the wall.
My cells tingle as though I might condense into a cloud, and he hums against the slope of my neck before kissing the angle of my jaw. “I was right about ye. Ye’re one of a kind.” I taste my blood on his tongue as we kiss again, the metallic tang not as jarring as I expected, before he closes my useless hand around a small vial. “Drink this.”
Mind dripping back into place, I uncork the small glass container and sniff the contents. “What is it?”
“A special sleep potion. It’ll make ye look as good as dead, and I’ll carry ye out of here without a care in the world.” He brushes the sensitive spot behind my ear and bores his gaze into mine. “Don’t worry, Leo. I will get ye back to yer princess.”
With a quick tilt of my head, I gulp down the entire vial and tuck it inside my pockets not to leave any evidence behind. As my vision blurs, a halo appears over Keenan’s head, and I pull him in for another soul-wrecking kiss before I lose consciousness.
Chapter3
Rat Race
ALEC
Racing cars and egotistic vampires go hand in hand, making this McLaren the bestget-out-of-arranged-marriage-hellfree card I could have hoped for. The dark sky and the darker hills blur together as I speed to the city, a thick cover of clouds blanketing our escape.
I drum my fingers on my thighs, the wretched pants I took from Lucas Pereira one size too small, and risk a glance at the princess. Long, shiny strands of ebony hair have slipped from the hurried bun she tied at the nape of her neck, the red scarf around her neck contrasting with her white, smooth skin.
If it wasn’t for the five armored cars tailing us, I’d pull over and kiss her bloody.
Almost on cue, her adrenaline-filled gaze travels from the passenger-side mirror to the back window. “They’re still following us.”
