Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
We’d been on the cusp of either being separated or killed, and that kiss…and what came next in that shadowy carriage was proof of how rattled we both were by the knowledge that we could’ve lost each other just as we’d truly found one another.
And it was more than that which allowed me not to care where we were, what I’d done in here and what was happening outside these thin walls, when he slipped the dagger from my hand, sheathing it on my thigh. Or when he turned and lifted me, placing me on my knees on the cushioned bench as he tugged the leggings and undergarments to my knees. What allowed me not to care was what the Duchess had said before I killed her, the utter coldness and emptiness I’d felt as I watched her die, and the haunting intuition that there had been some truth to her words.
Casteel placed my hands on the wall as he scraped the sharp edge of a fang along the side of my throat, sending a bolt of wanton heat and dampness through me.
“This is so inappropriate,” I panted.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He nipped at my skin again, and my entire body arched. “Brace yourself.”
I did, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what happened. He struck as fast as a viper, sinking his fangs deep into my throat at the same moment he thrust into me. The twisting shock of pain and pleasure stole my breath and fixed my wide eyes on the ceiling—on the circle with an arrow piercing the center embossed in black and crimson. Infinity. Power.
The Ascended Royal Crest.
And then…then I became that fire again, the flame.
There was nothing but an excess of pleasure and ecstasy, intensified by the deep, rumbling sounds he made, the hand that slipped between my thighs, and those wickedly skilled fingers.
A new madness engulfed us, one not too different from what I’d felt when I stepped out into the courtyard. And maybe all the death we saw and inflicted also drove us to this moment, to the hungry way his mouth moved at my neck and the nearly greedy way my hips pushed back against his. The feel of each other was a reminder that we were alive. That we’d survived. That there would be time for all those things I’d thought of as we were pinned to the ground under the catapult. That even as uncertain as our future was, there was one. And when the storm inside of us crested and took us both over the edge, I knew it was also the intensity of what we felt for one another, what we had both been fighting, that drove us.
That drove Casteel to abandon his people to save me.
That drove me to hold a dagger to my own throat, ready to slice deep to save him.
The intensity of the emotion, how all-consuming it suddenly felt, didn’t make sense. My head fell back against his chest, and he kissed the corner of my mouth, the longer scar, and then the shorter one, I didn’t care.
“You already have me,” I whispered.
Chapter 41
The field I’d seen the Guardians training in was littered with cots occupied by the injured and the dead. Most were mortal. Twenty Descenters or those of Atlantian descent that had settled in Spessa’s End had perished. At least fifty of Atlantian descent who’d arrived with the army had died, and double that occupied the cots. A dozen or so wolven were injured beyond their capabilities to heal themselves. The elemental Atlantians that had made up the vast majority of the army had healed themselves. None of the Guardians had fallen, and only a few were among the injured.
The Atlantian army had been successful, though, even with the casualties. They’d seized control by the time Casteel and I stepped out of the carriage to find Kieran and several Atlantian warriors standing guard.
I couldn’t even muster an ounce of embarrassment at the knowledge that some realized what had happened inside the carriage.
Only one soldier in the entirety of the Solis army had been left alive. Casteel and a few others had left hours ago, escorting a young boy barely beyond the cusp of manhood to the scorched land of Pompay, charged with the task of relaying a warning.
And a message.
Atlantia had reclaimed Spessa’s End, and any who came for the town would meet the same fate as those before them. The message was also an opportunity. Casteel had initiated a part of his original plan. The Battle of Spessa’s End didn’t have to be the first of many to come. The Prince and Princess of Atlantia were willing to meet with the King and Queen of Solis to discuss the kingdoms’ futures.
I didn’t envy the boy who was tasked with delivering the message.