Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Fifteen

A bolt of dread shot right down her spine, and it took every nerve in her body to turn and face him. To meet the gleam in those dark eyes.

“You knew I was there,” she whimpered, a knot already forming in her throat. She shuddered, wisps of chilling fog spilling from Ezra’s flesh. His hand remained by her head, palm pressed into the door—the same one that had torn the heart from the lord’s chest.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Of course I knew. I could find you in a crowd of hundreds— thousands . Your scent is otherworldly.” Ezra lifted his other hand to twine a piece of her hair around a finger, his eyes trailing lower. “And your heart... it sings like nothing I’ve ever heard before.”

As he spoke, her heart picked up, pounding against her chest in excruciating thumps. She couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth—she wouldn’t. None of it sounded real.

“You wanted me to hear how I was nothing to you? You wanted me to see—” How he touched her. Kissed her . She’d left before it went any further between him and Giselle, but even then, Surina was no child. Giselle was his mistress.

Was his mistress. In truth, though, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen the two of them together. Over a year now, perhaps even longer than that.

Here she was, calling him out for being jealous when she was in that same boat—hell, she was steering it. And for what? One night of dancing? One moment where his lips almost found hers before Cyril came to take her back to her room.

Ezra brought his voice down to a hush, now having the decency to at least look a little bit apologetic. “Everything I’ve done was to protect you.”

“Bullshit!” Almost two years of bitterness and doubt flew from her tongue in that moment. She shoved at his chest, which, to no surprise, did nothing to get him out of her face, and only seemed to infuriate him. “Tell me the real reason!”

“Because I am poison , Surina!” The frozen barricade groaned as it spread, matching the intensity of the king’s temper, and the unbridled fury of his eyes. “Have you not been paying attention? I ruin everything I touch. I ripped a male’s heart from his chest hours ago, and I feel nothing . I killed my own father over a girl—a girl I claimed to love, but the moment I got a taste of power, I had to have more of it. I wanted it all. Love, control— everything . But you...” His words were a whisper.

He dragged a thumb along the underside of her jaw, and she couldn’t stop her pulse from responding to that—from wanting more.

“Pushing you away was the most selfless thing I have ever done. I led you on at the ball, you know. Made you think you could actually want someone like me. That I could be right for you, and fuck if I didn’t have myself fooled, thinking the same thing. I slithered right into your little heart, and I didn’t want to leave, but I had to, because I couldn’t ruin you too. You’ve brought a light into my life like no other, even before my feelings for you began to change.”

He breathed in, deep enough for his chest to brush up against her. “I thought I could fight it, I really did. I had to fight it, at least until...” His words fell off then, like he’d been heading somewhere he shouldn’t. He shook his head, eyes glazing over with something else—a desperate longing. “I can’t fight it anymore. I miss your smiles, Surina. I miss that wicked cleverness and your insufferable tongue. I miss you .”

Words formed and died on her lips a hundred times in the moments he awaited her reply, but what could she possibly say to that? How was she supposed to feel when the male she’d been pining over for two years had been lying the entire time—had made her feel like she imagined all that transpired between them.

Why now? Because of Fynn? She’d done far more with other males, and he hadn’t batted an eye, so why now ?

“Say something, Surina. Anything.” He looked like he was ready to shake the response from her.

“You’re a bastard.” She spoke it all too calmly.

His thumb stopped its tender path, though it didn’t lift from her skin. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, but—”

“But what? Denying me somehow makes up for your past? It somehow protects me ? It doesn’t. You’ve played all of your cards, and now that the game is over, you want to take it all back?” Surina somehow found the spine to lean in, ensuring each word was dripping with venom. “Fuck. You.”

Ezra’s lashes lowered, his eyes narrowing on her as the muscles in his jaw pulsed with a vehement warning. Slowly, he lifted his hand from the door, sliding his fingers through her pinned up waves to claim the hair at the base of her skull. “Don’t pretend as if I was the only one playing this game. You matched me every step of the way.” His voice was a menacing coo as he tightened his grip, tugging just enough for her chin to lift higher. “‘And now that it’s over,’” he repeated her words mockingly, “We can do everything we wanted to do that night. Everything and more. Just say the word, Surina. Say you want this—say you want me .”

An eager surprise washed over her in the form of a red-hot flush, bursting from her core and climbing all the way to the tips of her ears. He looked positively starved, but she knew it wasn’t a lack of blood that was fueling that stare.

Forcing her voice to remain steady, she replied, “And if I say I don’t?”

It’d be a cruel, cruel lie .

Breath lodged in her throat as Ezra cocked his head to the side, tilting forward so that his next words coasted across her lips in a sweet flurry of mint. “Lies roll from your tongue so easily, but your heart speaks the truth,” he murmured, eyes glinting in the dim light of the room as his thumb went right back to those taunting drags along her pulse.

A rush of heated desire flooded her blood, and it was then that she realized there was no coming down from this high. She was far past that point.

Carefully, she brought her hand to his chest, where she found the proof of his words. He wanted this, just as much as she did. Maybe even more.

The hammer of his heart beneath her palm urged her to get it over with—to say what should have been said years ago. Her eyes flicked up, and as soon as their gazes locked, she wasn’t so sure she had to say it, because what stirred between them right now, they both felt it.

“If you hurt me again,” she said, her words a hoarse warning. Surina left the threat open to however he wanted to interpret it.

“My heart will be yours to do with as you choose, should I ever hurt you like that again. Tear it from my chest, if it pleases you.”

Mother help me , she prayed to the divine, needing the common sense to back out of this before it was too late. But as soon as she saw his lips part with anticipation, she didn’t want her help. She wanted her to look away.

A crazed, wanting smile consumed his features as her fingers seized the dark fabric of his shirt—and then he was on her, a low hum rumbling from him the moment their lips met, as if he’d waited a lifetime for a taste of her. As if she was the only thing that could bring him back from this devastating hunger. There was no caution in the way his hand gripped her hair either, the other falling to her hips, steadying her as the lean contours of his body made contact with every inch of her.

She reveled in the clash of her scorching flesh against his glacial embrace. For what felt like an eternity, their lips never parted, moving against one another until his tongue sliding along her bottom lip elicited a thrill so electrifying, she pulled away to gasp for breath.

Ezra didn’t stop there, though, lowering his mouth to the base of her throat while she panted for air, drawing a faint moan from her as he pressed kisses to her collarbone, trailing down to graze the constricted swells of her breasts.

His body went rigid with the sound of her pleasure, eyes molten beneath the shade of his lashes. “I would do unspeakable things to hear you make that sound again,” he rasped, releasing his hold of her hair to grab the other side of her waist.

One moment, she was ensnared in the hold of a ravenous creature of wind and frost, and the next, she was tossed onto the plush cushions of his drawing room settee. Propping herself onto her palms, she sat up against the back of the sofa, her golden strands now loose from their hold.

His shirt was disheveled, the top buttons pulled apart, leaving the bareness of his chest completely visible. She drank up the fine lines and contours of his pectorals.

Had she been the one to rip open his blouse? She hadn’t even realized what her hands were doing while she was caught up in the taste of him—it was intoxicating.

Noting where her eyes explored, Ezra reached behind his head to grab the collar of his shirt, sliding it over his head and tossing it to the floor below.

Shit .

She had to tense her jaw to stop it from falling open. His body had to be carved from the marble of the keep. The smooth perfection of him was formidable, his body etched with broadened muscle and deep grooves, which conjured an array of prancing shadows in the fire’s light. A dusting of dark hair trailed down from his navel and past the low cut of his trousers, where the thick length of him pressed into the fabric.

Ezra was enjoying this, the evidence of it was irrefutable, and that stirred a rousing heat between her legs to know she wasn’t alone. None of it was new to her, at least not the kissing and touching, but she had always been afraid to go any further than that, not wanting to get more intimate with someone she barely knew. They’d been humans and mortal fae her age, strangers mostly.

He moved to stand over her, close enough to touch, if she wanted to. And she really wanted to. The silence killed her, his eyes traversing what wasn’t covered by the dress, the layers of skirts pushed up above her knees from when she fell against the sofa.

Under his gaze, a nervousness built, so she moved to spread the fabrics over the bare flesh of her thighs, but he stopped her, grasping her wrist.

“I could stare at you for hours. Beautiful little creature, you bewitch me.” Ezra knelt between her thighs, the motion sparking an unholy heat in her blood. His hands coasted the length of her legs, taking his tortuous time exploring, until he neared the apex of her thighs.

Meeting her eyes, he ensured Surina’s approval before continuing, gliding up and hooking his hands around the meat of her waist to pull her to the edge. To him.

She didn’t understand how he could possibly be more perfect up close. There he was though…kneeling before her. Flawless .

With a quivering hand, Surina slid her fingers along the cut of his jaw, tugging his chin towards her to beckon him closer. He obliged her.

This time, when their lips found each other, it was sweet and gentle. The tender trail of his fingers beneath her skirts urged her to do something with her own hands, so she plunged them into the silken midnight strands of his hair. It was as soft as she’d imagined it would be, her fingers running through in smooth glides.

Again, his tongue slid against her mouth, and her lips parted to allow the cool sweep of it along her own. Those tempered kisses turned into something more—something lush and crucial. The slight snag of his canine against her lip had her heart just about leaping out of her chest. He must have heard it, too, because he grinned into their kiss, a deep, muffled laugh trembling from his lips.

That damned fae hearing.

His thumb ran along the crease near her waist, grazing the sensitive spot between her thighs, where only a thin layer of fabric separated their flesh. The touch ignited her from within, and she tore from the fervent kiss, her head falling back so she could get enough air to settle the sweltering heat of her skin. A worthless attempt, because when her eyes dropped, Ezra was waiting, his insatiable gaze devouring every part of her.

“You look heavenly in this dress,” the king purred, curling a finger beneath the lacy material on her hips, savoring every damning second until it was free from her legs, and he flung it to the side. “But here I am, imagining how divine you would look without it.”

Surina wasn’t even sure if she was breathing at this point—and when he tossed her leg over his shoulder, she had to grip the soft velvet of the cushions to steady the dazing whirl of her mind, because none of this felt real. Like any second she would be ripped from this dream to wake in her bed, alone, like so many times before. She couldn’t possibly envision how this would feel with no barriers between them.

Tormenting herself with the thought of seeing all of him completely unveiled to her, those images evaporated when he brought an arm around her other leg, pinning her to the cushions. She doubted he could see anything beyond the bunched material of her gown, but that didn’t stop him from drawing idle circles on her hip—it was too much, yet still not nearly enough. Torture is what it was.

“I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell,” he droned, running his lips along the splayed bareness of her thigh, which remained propped on his shoulder.

“Does blood taste sweet?” Her breath quivered with every word, mainly from the playfulness of his touch—always stopping just shy of where her body ached for more—but also from the flutter of nerves that arose when she envisioned him sinking his teeth into her flesh.

“It can, but I wasn’t talking about your blood.” Ezra brought a frosty kiss to her thigh, inciting a pulse of liquid heat at her center.

“ Gods ,” she groaned, closing her eyes as the soft tickle of his laugh drifted over that chilling spot, leaving behind a pleasant sting.

With one last wanting glint in his eyes, Ezra moved to dip beneath the skirts of her gown.

But before he could get anywhere, a blood-curdling scream reached them from the east wing.

He stopped, withdrawing from her dress as he tilted an ear in the direction of the halls. Another shrill screech sounded, and her veins ran cold, the fervor of the moment dispersing.

“Ez—”

“Stay here,” he commanded, setting her leg down from his shoulder to snatch his shirt up from the floor.

Ezra disappeared through the doors without another word.

Damn it . She didn’t waste time grabbing her shoes that had slipped off in the midst of their passion. Frantically brushing at her skirts, Surina knew she looked a mess, but that didn’t matter right now.

Bolting through the door, which had been cleared of Ezra’s frozen blockade, she left everything behind to sprint into the dimly lit halls of the eastern keep.

◆◆◆

He crept through the darkness of the library, a cloud of shade, sizing up the halfling, who would have no inclination of the predator in his presence. It was an invaluable skill, shadow-stepping. A lethal silence. Though he only had enough magic to travel to various sections of the keep and remain unseen, when he returned to his full power, there would be no limitations—no part of this world his will couldn’t reach.

Even without full use of his magic, blending in here hadn’t been extremely difficult, not when he had the fealty of so many within the keep. They would be rewarded for their loyalty, in time. The exception being the Blackwell girl.

Severn insisted she would be an asset. That both of the twins would be. Yet, here he was, cleaning up more of their failures, like a common foot soldier. He’d even felt her reaching for him, all the way from the throne room. She didn’t know she was doing it, but that made his dark little heart warm all the more. Because it was instinctual for her to look for him. To call for him . Which is why he couldn’t let this loose end run free. Not if it put her in danger.

It didn’t have to be this way—unfortunately for the halfling—but in her lack of propriety, the Calaechian princess had doomed him. She had been far too forthcoming in her opinion of the other halfling’s death, and while none of it was true, he couldn’t exactly let the male walk away with that kind of gossip. Word would spread, and fingers would be pointed—at her . And that just wouldn’t do.

He found it difficult to stifle the stirring excitement of his magic as he slackened its leash, letting his shadows absorb the light of the library, snuffing out the enchantment of the fireplace.

The halfling froze midway to the doors, turning his back to peer around. “Is someone there?” the male called into the darkness, squinting his eyes at the sections drenched in moonlight—he would find no one.

He grinned from ear to ear, the reach of his shadows scraping against the surface of the male’s essence—his light. And that only made the halfling’s terror grow, so much that he could taste it, and his power wanted more. It wanted to indulge. So he let it.

The halfling made a run for the library doors. It was too late, though, his hooks had found their mark.

The initial ripple of energy that poured from the halfling’s essence, while not as potent as a full fae, was invigorating. Under his voiceless command, the halfling slowed to a halt. He molded his victim’s vitality—his light —twisting it into whatever he desired, and for this moment, he wanted it to be his.

Sadly, for the halfling, his essence would not be reborn, like so many others who got in the way. Like the young boy from the other night, who followed her to this very spot, spying from the doorway. The boy saw too much.

Stepping from the shroud of his magic, his pace was leisurely as he reveled in the sheer power manifesting against his flesh—like webs of starlight. It didn’t take long before his prey collapsed to his knees, exhibiting no emotion as he neared the end. Having felt benevolent tonight, he didn’t make the halfling suffer as much as he could have, despite the time this was taking away from her.

As he neared the emptying vessel, he reached his palm out. Wisps of shade stretched from his fingertips to envelope the remaining light. A light that now belonged to him. His eyes fluttered against the newfound strength. It was exhilarating—breathtaking.

He only opened his eyes after the sound of a husk hitting the cold, hard floors echoed in the massive chamber, but he didn’t look at the body, being too transfixed on the radiance of his skin. Such a magnificent disparity, the shadows engulfing the light around his flesh. It was divine.

He was divine.

Only when the light was inevitability absorbed by the ravenous hunger of his darkness, did he glance down at the husk left behind. Clicking his tongue, he shoved the corpse onto its back, the vibrancy of its eyes now a dull glaze.

“Rest assured, you’ve been given more meaning through me than any of your lives would have given this world, mortal.”

And with that, he crossed back into the shadow. One moment, he was in the enchanting silence of the library, and the next he was strolling through the warm light of the foyer, just outside of the throne room. He was surprised to find many gathered outside of it, rather than in court. His eyes scanned the crowds, but she was nowhere to be found, so he marked a handful of reputable nobles he had every intention of approaching. Some were already working towards their cause, but many would soon join. Or they would die with the rest.

A sparsely dressed fae with olive skin and long brown hair he’d seen roaming the halls in his time here stood among them. He soaked up every inch of her visible curves—curves she seemed eager to tout.

Acknowledging his stares, she returned his smile, abruptly ending whatever conversation she was having with a handful of lords. Their disappointment was evident, but they dispersed with one look at him—some were more displeased than others. Noted.

“So, you’ve finally found the nerve to approach me,” she whispered in a cool, lilting voice.

Confident, it seems . Of course he noticed her fleeting glimpses and obvious flirtations as she passed him by in the evenings, but he wasn’t one to beg for what he wanted. She was lucky, though, because tonight he was willing to appease.

“My time is very valuable, Lady …?”

“Giselle.” She spoke it as if it was something he should have already known.

“Giselle…?” he drawled, searching for her surname as he lifted her hand to his lips.

“ Just Giselle,” she said dryly, her eyes narrowing—she quickly amended that slip-up with a smile.

So she was a lady of Liliana Nightwood’s court. The Duchess of Stonefarrow stripped her dogs of everything but their first name. A way to ensure they owed no loyalty to any name that wasn’t Nightwood. It was ingenious.

If this pet of Liliana’s was here, that made her important. Like the duchess interim. She must be the king’s former whore he’d heard so much about. The one the king had tired of and was returning to her master.

What a shame. He thought she might be a good distraction for a night or two, but he wasn’t interested in another’s scraps. Fortunately for her, there was a use beyond that of her body that he believed her perfect for. After all, he had a natural talent in bringing out the best in others.

“Well, Lady Giselle. Perhaps you could enlighten me on the reason for court ending so abruptly?”

Her face soured immediately, and she spoke through the tight grind of her teeth. “You haven’t heard? His Majesty needed a source of entertainment tonight, and Her Highness was our guest of honor. She all but spat on the king’s authority.”

He used his magic to get a feel for her temperament as she spoke, and it was only when she spoke of her that her rage flared. There wasn’t just rage, though. There was something else. A malicious envy—of her . It was almost laughable how infatuated the female was with the king. Even with him shipping her back to Stonefarrow, the lady’s devotion persisted. How commendable. He could use that to his benefit.

A shrill scream poured from the halls of the east wing, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle the grin—the body had been found. Those among them turned their heads towards the sound, mumbling their curiosity. Not a single fae moved to help, only two of the guards patrolling the west wing who must have been close enough to hear.

Everyone returned to their conversations, even himself, if only to ensure that his presence here was seen, so as to not be linked to the body. But not ten minutes later, there she was, golden hair a long mess of waves and tangles, pressed into the side of a dark-haired male.

His hand curled into a fist at his side as they rushed past. It was obvious what had transpired between the two, as she was practically drowning in his scent. He could hardly pick up on her sweet aroma, not without the intrusion of another.

Fate had a sense of humor, it seemed, putting her into the arms of a male like Ezra Nightwood. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or worried. Either way, the male didn’t deserve her affections, but maybe he could be persuaded to their side. She would need all the help she could get, growing into her full power.

They couldn’t fathom the creature she would one day manifest into—beautiful and terrifying. He’d already caught glimpses of it, and she had yet to leave her mortal form.

When that day came—it wouldn’t be much longer until he had everything he needed from here—she would take her place beside him, and they would be together. Just as it should have been from the very beginning.

My moonflower .