Page 56 of The Surrender

The torment trembles through me. I default to meeting him when he sits upon that throne and rips the belt from his breeches. I touch the sides of his strong neck and gaze up at him through a veil of tears.

“Please don’t, Shadow. Merikh will—”

“Let’s see how many feathers I pluck from your wings, little spirit moth...before he comes.”

I can’t force myself to turn numb. I’d rather feel every iota of his violation than return to deadened nerves. Instead, I burn. Heart racing, I open my mouth when he claims it. When he parts the gown to each side and reaches down to tear my panties right off, the deeper pain grips my spine more than his fingers stabbing into me.

“Already wet for me,” he purrs against my lips, “that’s my pretty Quinny.”

He lowers his wings as his fingers slide up my arms to the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the bodice.

“Thought you had a no throne-fucking rule,” Drago growls on one side.

“That is not Kyan.”

The sound of the deep and possessive baritone, much closer than his throne, rushes adrenaline into my blood. And hope to flood my chest. The dark, predatory energy, his carnal masculinity, and violent possession and power roar against us the moment Merikh grips the edges of Shadow’s wings. And pulls!

His response to the vampire’s attack is instant. Split-second, white-hot wrath at the invasion of the most sacred part of him explodes. All the veins in Shadow’s neck throb as he throws his fist into Merikh’s jaw. The vampire flinches but doesn’t release his grip on the wings. I gasp on the throne as the Great Hall erupts into chaos. With all his muscles swelling, Merikh picks Shadow up by his wings and hurls him at his throne. I feel the crack as I’m frozen in mine.

“Tessie, get out of here!” commands Drago, shifting into half-dragon form, muzzle already sizzling with flames.

My chest lurches. I don’t think twice. But the second I leave that throne, stumbling to my knees, Shadow launches for me. Brings me down. Blood batters my ears, dulling the sound of my scream as he claws wildly at me. Merikh’s upon him in less time—gripping the back of his neck, hauling him off me, and throwing him again. In that one moment, amid the storm, I register how it’s the second time the vampire has protected me. He deadpans with me. Bloated black pupils roar at me to get out.

Terror has me scrambling to my feet and searching for the nearest exit as the sound of bones breaking echoes behind me. Breaths seizing, tears flying, heart withering, I run from the Great Hall. The rush of fleeing bodies outside has me spiraling more, fighting against the crowd just to escape them. Because I can’t face them. Feathers tear from the gown, but I’m certain I lose pieces of my sanity with them.

I don’t stop running until I find the closest door and tear out into the middle of a raging storm.

38

I want Kyan and Shadow.

QUINTESSA

Sheets of rain soak me to my skin. Claws of wind crystalize my very core.

I haven’t stopped running…except when I snuck onto the crude coach of one of the villager families. I wasn’t above hitching a ride.

By the time I plunge into the forest bordering the village, the beautiful gown skirts are tattered and torn, feathers drenched and bedraggled. Adrenaline still pulses in my veins. So, I break into a run despite the branches raking at me from all sides.

As the woods thicken and deepen, I realize the rain doesn’t pour so much here. It can’t squeeze through all the clumped branches sharing their meager warmth. My limbs grow heavy. Nausea swirls in my belly from too much activity following the golden-berries and honey cakes.

At first, I’d considered going to the opposite side of the Court of Storms, but the thrill of the unknown hasn’t trumped my other desire.

I want them to find me. I want him to find me.

Agony bunches in my stomach, much like the tree branches. A split second later, I’m gripping a tree for support as I retch all the contents from supper. The acid scalds my throat, and I moan from the ordeal. Well, I guess that’s normal when you’re pregnant.

Clutching my belly, holding myself at the seams, I slide down the length of that tree and sob uncontrollably. I chalk most of it up to some ludicrous hormones. But it doesn’t matter.

I want Kyan and Shadow. I want to believe some prickle of light can pierce the dark veil of our last encounter. That’s all I need. A slit. I’ll stretch it from there like I always do. Turn tears into laughter. Horror into beauty. And if dawn can’t arrive, I’ll howl at the stars until they shine.

I press the heels of my hands to my forehead, startled at the reminder of that ten-pointed star. Miraculously, the circlet hasn’t fallen off and taken the jewels with it. I touch the moonstones on my belly. Then the wet seraph feathers. A heavy sigh leaves my throat as I consider all this...finery.

Did it remind Shadow too much of her? Or was he thrilled at the echo of a queen in the Court of Storms? Since I know she was raised higher, it hurts more to be brought lower. To fall from such a great height.

I feel like a doll playing dress up. You can’t turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. I’m no queen. Not a prized pet. Not anything but a cold, gray girl covered in scars and the tattoos she used to beautify them.

It might be a sin, but I don’t give a fuck when I start ripping at the feathers, tearing the jewels off my skin too early. Skin goes with them.

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