Page 135 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Safe from my cruel shadow
I risked it all to hold you
And lost it all in one go
It was never to be
Never to be
But I only wanted you
“I never thought—I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Luther whispers, now standing barely an inch away.
“But you won’t kill me now,” I answer, my tone soothing, beckoning him closer with a beguiling smile.
“Never.” He reaches for a loose strand of my hair, tucking it behind my pointy ear with a strange, almost tender affection. “You’re the most precious jewel I’ve ever owned.”
Chapter 43
Never Let Me Go
BETH
The man that argued in favor of murdering me back at the academy cups my face in the most gentle manner, tipping my chin up for a kiss that’ll seal his fate. I keep my eyes open as our lips meet, his kiss both impatient and delicate, as if I’m something to be treasured.
He tastes even darker than I imagined, a blend of loneliness and misery that clings to him. Beneath the bite of his shadows, there’s something fresh and salty, like afternoon rain beating relentlessly over the surface of the sea.
I steady myself against his chest, one hand creeping subtly toward the inside of his cloak, toward his pocket, where the keychain waits.
Deepening the kiss to keep him distracted, I toss the golden ring and keys toward Aidan, who swiftly works to free himself, the shackles snapping open. Tears streak down his face, but he’s lucid enough to ensure our makeshift escape plan works.
Luther Storm cradles my face in his hands, oblivious to everything else around us. I hear the sharp cracks of wood as Aidan works to free Seth, but I’m too deep in this twisted game to pay any attention. A sinister fragment of my soul rises to the surface—this dark, aching void within me throbs, desperate to be filled with the love of a man, begging me to find prey, eager to be consumed, chewed up, and spit out.
Sirens heed the call of their goddess, feeding not just for themselves, but to please her. And Melpomene is starving, desperate to seduce this man through me.
I scrape my nails along the back of Luther’s neck, and he exhales sharply, a quiet gasp escaping him. “Mm, you’re a talented sorceress. Let’s leave these two behind and visit my private cabin.” He presses his erection to my hip, his hands stroking my sides amorously.
“Won’t your girlfriend be jealous?” I murmur against his lips.
“She’s not my girlfriend, but you’re right. I should sneak you in there before she notices I’m gone.”
“Do you have your rowan and silver blade on you?” I whisper.
“No, but I’ve got the keys to your cuffs—” Luther reaches for his cloak, his hand patting at the empty pocket, his focus wavering as the haze of my song begins to lift. But it’s too late.
Aidan delivers a brutal sucker-punch to Luther’s jaw, his fist glowing a bright, furious orange, sending the man flying through the air. Luther’s head slams into the wall with a sickeningcrack, and he collapses to the floor face-first with a resoundingthud.
Seth is already there, swift and efficient, his hands quick to snare Luther’s ankles with the rowan shackles he used on us.
Luther thrashes on the ground and attempts to crawl away. He punches his brother’s nose to keep him from shackling his wrists. Seth howls in pain, but doesn’t flinch, continuing his work, determined to restrain his brother. With Aidan's help, he overpowers Luther, gradually cutting him off from his magic, one limb at a time. Aidan tightens the spikes on the rowan shackles with a grim determination, while Seth stuffs a torn piece of fabric in Luther’s mouth and ties his belt around his head, gagging him before he can cry out for help.
Luther roars in agony, his eyes bulging from the strain. Blood streams down his hands as he desperately tugs at the chains anchoring him to the ship, his body trembling with effort, but it’s all in vain. “Rhh um rh!” he mumbles.
A sad, almost pitying smile crosses Seth’s face. “Sorry, kid, but you’ve earned it.”
Aidan unlocks my restraints and pulls me free.
In an uncharacteristic show of care, Seth wraps his heavy green cloak around me, fastening it securely at my neck. “Here, darling. You look cold.” He rubs down my arms, a ripple of Spring magic caressing my neck and making me blush. He’s standing awfully close, especially given my obvious state of undress. His eerily gentle and non-sarcastic tone makes me pause.
