All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

D rake stepped from the churning shadows, where long inky tendrils curled like claws tipped with broken fractures of obsidian.

Fury pumped through him, freezing the blood running through his veins, amplifying the dark cadence of his magic so the nefarious tune struck in time to the steady beating of his heart. He popped his jaw and ground his teeth. Venomous rage twisted through him, imbuing him with hatred toward the only man he’d ever trusted.

The damn mating bond made him irrational.

Vengeful.

Envious.

Drake knew he should be proud of Creslyn for knocking Kjeld flat on his back. But seeing her straddling another man sent tremors of indignation coursing through him. If he so much as touched her…

Kjeld splayed both of his hands on the ground, digging his nails into the smooth surface, recognizing the dangerous look in Drake’s eyes. His general swallowed hard and sucked in a shaky breath, as though he was trying to sink into the stone.

Drake’s gaze shot to Creslyn, at the way she was hunched over Kjeld, with her blade pressed to his throat. She looked up sharply, and her wet hair fell in ribbons of glossy silk around her bare shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her lips parted as she stared back at him. The dress she wore soaked her to the bone, the layers of moonlit velvet clung to her skin, highlighting every dip and curve. The hem was ripped, and the sleeves were snagged, as though they’d been caught by the tip of Kjeld’s sword. Her bodice was heavily embroidered with crystals that looked like raindrops, and the weight of it sagged, gaping so that her breasts were precariously close to tumbling free.

He fisted his hands at his sides, clenching them so his nails bit into the skin.

Creslyn’s gaze darkened, the blue of her eyes turning near black against the swarm of darkness.

“Hello, wife ,” he purred.

She looked up at him from beneath damp lashes, running her teeth along her full bottom lip. “Hello, husband.”

Drake sauntered forward, determined to keep his composure calm despite the fact that he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and set fire to the fucking world. “Mind telling me why you’re sitting on my general’s lap?”

The mating bond flared, snapping and crackling with provocative tension. It fizzled through him, spiking his heart rate, blinding him with the impulse to possess her. To dominate her. To own her.

“Training.” Creslyn bit the word out. She flicked her wrist, pulling the sword away from Kjeld’s jugular, and the general heaved a breath in relief. But then she leaned back, seating herself across his waist even more. She raised her arms over her head and arched in a long, languid stretch. “Exactly as you requested.”

Drake’s nostrils flared. He glared down at her, hating that his gaze was instantly drawn to the beads of rainwater cascading from her neck, then rolling and sliding over the swell of her breasts. Those breasts where diamonds lay hidden beneath the saturated fabric of her dress. Those breasts that were likely already swollen and aching, waiting patiently for his touch.

Creslyn’s eyes widened, and the tips of her pointed ears turned pink.

“Get. Up.” The words were a warning. A threat.

She crossed her arms out of spite, a delicate line pinching along her forehead even as her lips trembled from the cold. “Make. Me.”

His shadows seethed as the rain increased, pelting them like tiny shards of ice. “In the mood for a lover’s spat today, are we kearsta ?”

“You are the one who left me without saying goodbye. You did not even possess the decency to tell me where you were going.” Creslyn lifted her blade, aiming at him with malice. “You just left .”

“I have my reasons.” Not that he had any inclination to tell her about them anytime soon.

“No, you have secrets,” she countered, shaking her head once, and the damp strands of her hair stuck to her neck and cheeks. “Those are not the same.”

He shifted his weight, studying her. She was a complexity he did not quite understand. Soft yet hard. Beautiful yet brutal. Whenever her tongue lashed out at him, whenever she scowled in his direction, he found himself more infatuated with her. He liked it when she was full of fire, when she was exasperated and temperamental. More than anything, he thoroughly enjoyed provoking her, exactly as he was doing now.

Drake adjusted the drenched sleeves of his shirt and held her gaze. “I did not realize I was now required to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Creslyn scoffed. “Then you should not concern yourself with mine.”

She fell forward over Kjeld’s prone body, propping her elbow up by his head, and leaning close enough that the general received a full view of her cleavage.

Drake lost his damn mind.

He snatched her by the waist with blistering speed, yanking her off Kjeld, not caring if his fingers dug into her supple flesh.

“So, you think you can fight, is that it?” he asked, his tone mocking. “You think you have what it takes to defend yourself against anyone? Against me ?”

“Put me down!” Creslyn shouted. She struggled in his arms, coiling her hands around his wrists, but he did not release her. She kicked her legs, attempting to disentangle herself from his hold. But her slight struggle was useless to the iron grip of his hands on her body. She smacked at him, the slap of her hands nothing more than an annoyance, like that of a bee sting. “I am not as weak as you think me to be!”

He dragged her against him, smirking at the little noise of shock she made when he crushed her to his chest.

Lowering his head, he nipped the bottom of her ear, tugging the delicate flesh between his teeth. Then he murmured quietly, “Prove it.”

Drake dropped her abruptly and she staggered backward, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to keep her balance. Bitter wind swept through the courtyard, so the branches of the weeping tree lashed like whips, and the rain slanted downward, pouring from the miserable heavens. Lightning danced, scattering between the roiling gray clouds in a dozen different directions, and the angry rumble of thunder cracked above them. A torrent of wretched weather unleashed upon them, and Drake watched as Creslyn stood before him, shivering, freezing, but refusing to back down. To walk away.

“General Holtstrom.” Drake spared his only friend a calculated glance. “If you know what’s good for you?—”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Kjeld interrupted before Drake could get another word in, and he grabbed his fallen sword from the ground. Then he bolted across the courtyard, leaving Drake to deal with his indignant wife on his own.

Creslyn gathered up her soaking wet hair and twisted it into a messy, lopsided bun on the top of her head. Her chest was heaving, the steady rise and fall causing that damned bodice to dip lower with each breath. Silky satin draped off her shoulders and she tugged at the sleeves, yanking them up to her elbows. Her skirts were plastered to her legs, making her appear as though she’d stood beneath a waterfall of moonbeams.

He was torn between wanting to fight her and wanting to fuck her.

Drake ignored the stab of arousal and narrowed his gaze. Damp strands of dark hair hung in his face as the rain continued to drench them both. He removed his riding leathers, peeling them off over his head, and threw them on the ground. His black shirt was instantly assaulted by the storm, ruining the fine fabric. He rolled the sleeves, cuffing them, never taking his eyes off Creslyn.

She traced the outline of his wet shirt with her gaze, tracking the way the softly spun cotton molded to his arms, shoulders, and abdomen. Her eyes heated, like sapphires set on fire, lingering on his forearms.

He locked his jaw, clamping down on the urge to bend her over that forgotten bench beneath the weeping tree, and drive himself into her until the stars wept.

Creslyn’s mouth curved at the corner, her face suddenly illuminated with smug satisfaction. As though she knew exactly what he wanted to do to her.

Damn it.

Drake pulled his sword from his sheath, the blade whistling against the coarse leather. He swiveled it once, rolling his wrist, then pointed it in her direction.

“Ready, pretty faerie?”

“More than ever, shadow prince.”

Irritation splintered through her, prodded by his ability to get under her skin. With the bond between them, he was incredibly aware of everything about her. The way her emotions changed like the ocean’s tide, calm one moment, furious the next. He could hear every vile thought as it sifted through her mind as though it was his own, and he knew she would hear his as well, something he would have to be mindful of now.

She clutched her sword in her hands and raised it, keeping her elbows up.

He was in tune with the rhythmic beating of her heart, the way it hammered and skipped, the way it beat solely for him.

Creslyn’s lips parted as though she was about to speak, and then she attacked.

Drake went easy on her at first, avoiding her strikes and sidestepping her advances. When their swords met above them, the familiar clang rattling in his ears, he was careful not to use too much force. Cautious not to hurt her. But she was far more skilled than he originally thought. Even though she had only trained with Kjeld for a handful of days, she moved through the courtyard as though she’d been fighting since she took her first breath. She spun in the downpour, with pink cheeks and wild eyes, deflecting him, dodging him, rising to meet him.

Together they sparred as thunder ricocheted through the angry sky. The storm devoured the clash of blades, deafening the sounds of their battle.

There was only him. And her. And the beating of their hearts.

For Drake, the rest of the world fell silent.

Creslyn lunged forward and Drake pivoted quickly to avoid her assault. Then she twisted the other direction, her speed so unrivaled she was nothing more than a blur of smeared rainbows. She brought the hilt of her weapon down upon his wrist. Pain spasmed through his arm as his sword fell from his hand. Sliding one foot out, she kicked it away then took aim, bringing the tip of her blade to the base of his throat.

She leveled him with a look of superiority, adorable considering she stood nearly a foot shorter than him.

He shook his head, a deep laugh reverberating through him.

She thought she won.

Drake reached out and wrapped one hand around her blade. Blood poured from his palm, wet and sticky. It slid down his wrist, dripping onto the stone ground of the courtyard where the steady rain washed it away, leaving a small trail like a river.

Creslyn gaped at him, her mouth falling open in shock, and he ripped the sword from her grasp, throwing it to the side.

“Drake!” She rushed toward him, those pools of blue wide with worry. “Your hand!”

He grabbed her then, swinging her around to crush her between the outer wall of the courtyard and the solid barrier of his body. The beads of her bodice scraped against his shirt, creating the most delicious friction. His hand slid around her throat, his favorite place to hold her, as his fingers glided over her wet skin. Touching her was like capturing morning dew in his palm. Her pulse fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, chaotic and fierce, and Drake’s blood hummed in response. He nudged his knee in between her thighs, enjoying the way her legs fell open for him. Like she knew where he belonged.

Creslyn brought her arms in close, curling them against his chest. Goosebumps riddled her flesh, and he pressed in, shielding her from the storm.

Drake lowered his head and kissed her.

Her tongue tangled with his, and he groaned into her mouth. She radiated heat, the kind that bit through the cold and seared him with a scorching trail of desire. Creslyn tasted of lazy summer mornings and sun-sprinkled roses. She was like walking through a field of wildflowers, a colorful expanse of endless beauty. He could feel her essence, her warmth soothed his bones, coaxed the darkness to lace with the light.

Drake drew back, breaking their kiss.

“Never show weakness.” He moved his hand from her neck to her waist, gripping her. Droplets of rain rinsed away his bloodied handprint staining her skin. “Never show the truth of your heart.”

“Fine.” She blinked up at him, her eyes hooded, her lips swollen. She tucked a strand of his wet hair back from his face, her touch surprisingly gentle. The gesture was almost too intimate. “So long as you never abandon me.”

His brow furrowed and he stared at her, searching her face. “You’re still angry with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.

“You told me you never break your word. Just as you told me you would never leave my side again.” Accusation lit her tone. “Yet when I awoke, you were gone.”

Drake set his mouth into a hard line. “I had business.”

Creslyn rolled her hips forward, rubbing against his groin. His cock sprung to life, and she slipped her hand between them, gripping his hard shaft firmly in her grasp. He groaned again, dropping his forehead against hers.

“Business that doesn’t involve me?” she asked, squeezing tightly, eliciting a grunt of aching need from the cavernous walls of his chest.

She dragged her leg up the side of him, hiking up the hem of her soaked gown. His gaze fell to the swath of bare skin, where sleek leather boots rose up to her knee, and a lacy garter was strapped to her thigh.

He frowned.

Not a garter. A sheath.

Creslyn pulled the small dagger from its holder, running its blade lightly down Drake’s chest so the soaked fabric of his shirt feathered and frayed.

“Tell me where you were, Drake, and do not lie.” Her voice was a sensual cadence that spoke to his soul. She moved her hand lower still, positioning the dagger’s tip right above the bulge in his pants. “Or I will cut off your cock. Which would truly be a shame, as I find I’m rather fond of it.”

“Fuck.” Drake slammed one fist into the wall of stone behind her, sending bits of debris crumbling around them. He snagged her bottom lip with his teeth, bit until she whimpered, then swiped his tongue across her pouty mouth to ease the sting. “Nothing arouses me more than when you’re vicious.”

Damn his faerie and her constant need for answers, for the truth.

She was entirely too wicked for her own good, and it filled him with a sense of immoral pride, knowing that the sliver of darkness inside her was expanding…because of him.

Drake reached into one of his pockets, felt the cool touch of metal against his fingertips, and pulled out a ring.

“I was buying you this.” He held it out to her, and the black diamond solitaire sparkled with midnight rainbows. “As a token of my devotion.”