I breathe in her scent—scent always reveals a lot about a person. It’s how you know what they eat, what they drink, what their entire chemistry is made of, and more. Cerys Dark smells of wild lilies, Merlin’s favorite ingredient for magic-replenishing concoctions.
She has healthy, youthful cheeks, a perky chest and a small waist, her hips and legs surprisingly well shaped for someone who obviously exercises so little. She looked extremely awkward when she ran, her white robe rippling in the wind as she heaved and forced herself to go faster, which was much slower than she thought. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest moving up and down as she breathes hard, the swell of her breasts sweaty and inviting.
The way she looks now, she’s begging to be fucked. I have a flash of her spread-eagled on the floor, right here, beckoning me to fill her. My lip curls over my teeth.
“I need you to undo what your friends Arielle and Lysander did. I need you to rebuild the core of my energy body.”
She steps slowly away from me until her back hits the wall. I stay put, not wanting to scare her anymore than she already is. Just a year ago, when I heard there was a female out there who would become my fated mate simply by my laying eyes on her, I decided to have her killed. Make sure I remained invincible for all time. No vulnerability, no liability.
I wouldn’t have done it myself, of course, not only because seeing her would have been enough to create a dangerous connection between us, but because I never hurt females. It’s a life principle, a code of conduct. I pick on bastards my own size. No, I would have had Marayke twist her head from behind, and let her fall limp in the street. Marayke would have simply walked away, pulling the hood down over her face, while people gathered around the best energy worker in Edinburgh, her white robe molding the pretty shape of her body like the shroud of a dead saint.
Now I realize what a terrible waste that would have been. I’m almost grateful things turned out differently.
Last year, when I barged into her shop looking for Lysander and Arielle to finish them, our eyes locked, and all plans of killing her went out the window. A moment was enough for the connection to spark to life. It was hardly enough to ignite any feelings, but I could feel the wires of my fate interlacing with hers. Harming her would mean harming myself. If Marayke were to kill her, she would kill a part of me along with her, so change of plans. When this is over I’ll imprison her, and keep her forever under my control, but I’ll never interact with her again. Make sure the connection doesn’t deepen.
“Now here’s exactly what’s going to happen,” I continue, keeping my voice down, making sure she stays calm. “You’re going to take me to your hideout, and do the work from there. Make sure the guards don’t sniff us out, so no one gets hurt—because I assure you if anyone does, it’s not going to be me. I’m gonna rip their guts out, and their blood is gonna be on your hands. Do you understand?”
She nods, but then doesn’t move, as if moored in the ground, her eyes hanging on me.
“Well, lead the way.”
She slinks along the wall, feeling her way with the back of her palms, but facing me the entire time as if she’s afraid I’m going to hurt her if she turns. She flips over a filthy rug on the floor with her foot, revealing a trapdoor in the ground. She bends down to open it, but she struggles with it.
I crouch down, slip a finger through the steel ring that serves as a latch, and pull. The girl stifles a gasp in her throat—all I’ve got left of my Fire King power is my physical strength, but it’s the strength specific to the Dragonbloods, which means I can literally move tons.
“After you.” I jerk my chin to the hole in the ground. She climbs down a wooden ladder, holding tightly to the sides, careful with every step. She really is the least athletic person I’ve ever seen, but that’s probably because I’ve been only hanging out with the military for centuries now.
When she’s finally on the ground I bend over the hole, my eyes piercing the darkness, my pointy ears moving imperceptibly to pick up sounds. No living, breathing creature for a considerable range.
“Make way,” I hiss. She moves away from the hole, making space for me to land soundlessly on my feet, dust rising from under my boots.
I rise to my full height, checking out my surroundings. A long corridor of catacombs extends to both sides. This is clearly an ancient part of Flipside Edinburgh, but it’s clean, and filled with different body odors, which can only mean people are using it. The way I remember the catacombs, they smell of piss, dead rats and the sulfurous remains of dark magic, which serves as food for evil spirits that dwell in the shadows.
The girl keeps staring at me, anchored in the ground like she still can’t believe what’s happening.
“Keep going,” I prompt.
I keep close behind her, listening to the beat of her heart, the blood pumping in her veins. My presence unsettles her, in fact I think she’s close to panicking. My nostrils flare as I bend slightly forward and breathe in her scent of wild lilies and something else that I don’t recognize at first. Hot chocolate, maybe? And fear. There’s no mistaking the scent of fear. And blood, probably from where she’s been biting her lip as she leads me deeper down the tunnel, wringing her hands, her nerves frayed. The closer we get to her hideout, more sweat breaks out on her skin. It’s a pleasant scent, female hormones imbued with light magic.
My blood runs faster. Fuck it. I need to fall back, put some distance between us, but that would mean a slower reaction time to any threats that might appear, and I can’t take that chance in my weakened state. We enter a corridor so narrow that my shoulders almost touch the sidewalls. It turns out to be a dead end, with a heavy iron door guarding what must be the old dungeons under the city. My muscles cord up as I prepare for what’s behind it.
I can’t pick out sounds or scents or movement beyond the door because of the iron. I’m much less susceptible to it than other fae, but still. It weakens me, too, especially now that I don’t barely command forty percent of my power.
The girl holds up her palms, lowers her head and whispers a spell. The iron bolts move in their locks, slowly, making very low screeching sounds, but before we enter the girl turns to me, daring to look up into my eyes. I cast them down, avoiding eye contact. I can’t allow the smallest risk that she somehow becomes a part of me, even though I’m dead sure I can control my feelings. I haven’t ever felt anything for any woman except base desire, and a soft girl with a braided ponytail and rosy cheeks sure isn’t gonna change that. But fate is a hard thing to beat, and it works in mysterious ways.
“Before we go in there, you have to know,” she manages, her voice small and insecure. “Guards lurk all over the place, except in my private chamber. I will take you there through the basement, but then I’ll have to go and get some of my stuff from the study in order to do what you need me to do. I need you to stay put while I do that, otherwise you’ll be discovered.”
I nod, but just curtly, because once we’re in her room, I have no intention of letting her walk out again. She’s been doing this long enough to be able to help me without extra props, but this isn’t the time to argue with her about it.
She steps over the threshold into a pitch-black, chilly basement. I curl my lip up over my teeth that start to sharpen into fangs—I smell winter magic, a lot of it. I sense protection runes against fire, their power heavy on my shoulders. A good thing most of my magic was drained from me, or I would be suffering more.