Page 45 of House of Gilded Nightmares

His eyes flicker open and I suppress a gasp. His pupils have gone almost entirely black. As his eyes lock onto mine, a low rumble moves through his chest. He looks at me in a way he’s never looked before. Something in that look is almost…predatory.

“Sarielle, you shouldn’t be here right now,” he growls.

I don’t move, despite the flicker of fear in my gut. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

He reaches out, fast as a snake, and grabs my wrist, pulling me against him. I do gasp this time at the sudden press of his body against mine, the heat of skin and magic both, the hard lines of his muscles. His other hand reaches up and twists into the hair at the back of my head. Shadows encircle me.

And as they do, the darkness within me that vanquished the nightmare pulses back to the surface, roiling off me along with a golden glow of magic. Our shadows merge together, his midnight calling, and mine answering.

I look up into those dark eyes and hold them. “I’m not afraid of you, Zyren.”

“You should be,” he growls, and he kisses me.

It is not slow and gentle as it was on the mountaintop. Zyren’s lips crush against mine, and his tongue claims my mouth, probing it in a way that takes my breath away and sends a spike of pleasure the entire length of my body. A rumble moves through him as if he can sense it, and his body responds, something very long and hard pressing against me. Sparks radiate between my legs where that hardness touches.

Some wild, dangerous part of me takes over. I crave every part of him, even without knowing what exactly it is that I crave. It is new and unknown, and yet instinctual and natural. I’ve spent every night with Zyren for countless years in the dreamtime. I know him in a way I don’t know anyone else, at the same time that my physical body knows nothing of what I need right now.

I stand on the tips of my toes and slide my right thigh along his, grinding up into him, feeling that hard length as it sends starfire spikes through my core. Zyren lets out an animalistic groan and moves his lips from my mouth, trailing them down the side of my neck. He bites the top of my shoulder and I gasp, a wave of pain and pleasure unfurling within me. I roll my hips into him again, letting out my own moan as stars spin inside my head and a ripple of ecstasy shivers inside me. Zyren pulls my neck to the side, and he grazes his teeth over the tops of my breasts, biting one and then the other.

I rock against him again, and this time Zyren’s free hand moves down across my ass, cupping the rounded flesh there. Two fingers move farther inward, pressing upward between my legs as I move. He thrusts as I do, several times in rapid succession. Something unfolds inside of me, wave upon wave of bliss, making me shudder and collapse against Zyren. His lips find their way back to mine and he kisses me again, tasting the pleasure on my lips as it fades.

“You are a stubborn one,” he says in a low rumble, his fingers still swirling between my legs, making me tremble.

“I don’t follow orders from you,” I manage, even though I can barely see straight.

“A true queen.” He laughs, dark and velvety.

I straighten, realizing Zyren’s blood has soaked into my clothes. My head clears from whatever madness had claimed me. Zyren seems somewhat more in control now, too. “Your wounds still look really nasty.”

“I’m fine,” he says, then winces as he tries to stand without leaning against the rocks. “Or rather, I will be fine. I just need to finish healing myself. Without distraction,” he adds pointedly.

I take a couple steps back. Now that the wild, unruly part of me has faded away again, I feel the heat of a blush creeping over my cheeks. “I’ll do my best.”

Zyren calls his shadows again, the hum of magic filling the air.

It’s at that moment I hear the ring of hoofbeats coming up the valley toward us.

Chapter Seventeen

There are two dozen riders at least. They move up the valley at a full gallop, coming through a path in the pine trees and spotting us before Zyren can cast shadows to hide us. They’re dressed in black tunics, blending with the night, except for the red emblems on their chests.

The Septarus.

“Get behind me,” Zyren growls.

He straightens from where he leans against the rocks, masking the pain he feels, though I see a muscle in the side of his cheek twitch. His wounds are still dripping unnatural, black blood, the nightmare’s poison coursing through his veins. He picks up his sword, and I reach into my boot and pull out my dagger.

The riders swarm us, several jumping off their mounts and rushing forward. Zyren’s shadows whirl about him, as does his sword, and he cuts down the first three in moments. And the three after that. But when another dozen leap off their horses and come at him all at once, he falls beneath the onslaught, his injuries too great to keep them all at bay. A scream rips from my throat as he disappears beneath a barrage of cloaked figures.

Three riders separate from the group and turn toward me. I manage to stab one in the gut as he lunges for me, but the other two wrestle the knife out of my hand and drag me to a horse. I scream again, but they gag me with a strip of cloth, tie my wrists and ankles, and throw me over the saddle. Then, so quickly my head spins, a rider climbs up behind me and gallops off. I catch a flash of the writhing bodies still fighting to keep Zyren down, and then he is lost to me.

My ribs quickly bruise from being jostled across the horse’s shoulders and the pommel of the saddle, and nausea floods me as we race through forest and mountains. Sometimes I have to close my eyes to keep from hurling up what little I have in my stomach, but I force myself to open them periodically so I can see where we’re going.

We ride for more than an hour before slowing. We’ve long since left the valley, traveling through another and to the west past an enormous lake that shines black in the moonlight. Then along a river, broad and swift, which makes me wonder if it’s the same river running from the mountains where Selaye is nestled. The rider finally slows, skirting another small lake and moving through a maze of canyons before entering a thick fringe of trees along the wall of a valley. Once we get deep within the trees, I see light ahead, flickering from torches. We come to a high wall made of tree trunks, a perimeter fence. I hear many voices beyond, and the snorting of horses, and the snarling of dogs. Smoke tinges the air.

“I have her,” the rider calls to a group of guards.

There are two on each side of the gate set within the wall, two men and two women. They open the gate, which swings out on a pulley system of ropes. It’s clear this isn’t a permanent settlement of House Septarus. This is no stone fortress or castle. It has the rustic look of a temporary outpost, the wood cut fresh. They had camped in this area to wait for me.

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