The Ever King: Chapter 8

The climb to my family’s tower had never taken so long. Behind me, my stranger held to my hand, still masked, taking in the stone stairwell as we went.

“A tower,” he said once we reached the top. “You come from high ranks?”

If he knew I was a future queen, would all this change? I wasn’t ready to find out. “My father is a nobleman, yes. Does it frighten you?”

I let out a shriek of surprise when he took hold of my waist and pressed my back to the cool stone of the wall two paces from my chamber door. Again, he slid his covered nose against my throat. My breaths came sharp and heavy as his hand skated up the side of my ribs. His thumb teased the underside of one breast.

Such a simple touch, and still my body arched for more.

“If I were a wise man, I might deal with your father first.” His thumb slid over the mound of my breast and caressed the hardened peak of my nipple through my bodice. “But I’d rather deal with you.”

I let out a ragged sigh when he drew the heel of his hand over the same places as his thumb, never palming my breast fully. This was more a tease, a glimpse at what he might intend to do behind closed doors.

I slapped my hand behind me until my grip found purchase on the latch of my door. At the click, my stranger pulled back. He took my hand and, facing me, backed into the room.

The moment the door was closed, he had me against the wall again, only this time his body caged me there. I drew in a sharp gasp as his leg slid between my thighs. My gown had layers, but a whimper escaped my throat when he leaned in, the muscles of his leg rubbing wickedly against my throbbing center.

“Let me look at you.” He hooked his thumbs under my mask.

I gripped his wrists. “You as well.”

A low chuckle bobbed his throat. “Soon, but not yet.”

From beneath his collar a few edges of white scars were visible. Maybe he was a Rave. Maybe he knew exactly who I was, but believed the distance between our titles would never allow us to touch in such a way.

I cared little for ranks or classes, but I would play his game. Nothing so trivial as a mask would get me to stop this. Those gloves, now those were another matter. I craved the touch of skin to skin, desired to know if his hands were firm or gentle, smooth or callused.

With care, my shadow lifted my mask. I held my breath and waited for recognition, maybe a sudden change of heart. It never came.

His eyes shifted, hinting at a grin under his mask, and he lifted a palm to my cheek. “You’re perfect.”

He glided his fingers over the line of my jaw, the slope of my throat, until he reached the edge of my neckline and slid his fingertips beneath the bodice. Much lower, and the greater part of my chest would be bared to him.

He pressed his hips into mine, adding a touch of heated pressure at the apex of my thighs. I widened my stance, wanting more of him, wanting fewer layers between us.

He gathered bunches of my gown, tugging the skirt up my legs. “If you want more, little bird, all you must do is ask.”

“I want . . .” I choked on my voice when his thumb brushed my inner thigh. Smooth leather roved dangerously close to my aching center.

“What do you want?”

“You,” I breathed out.

“Certain?”

“Yes.” I arched into him, seeking his touch.

In one swift motion, my stranger gripped both my wrists in one of his strong hands and pinned my arms over my head. A squeak of surprise melted to a moan when he arched his hips, slight enough the hard muscles of his leg nestled between my thighs, causing an unfamiliar rush of sensation.

My head spun; I hardly noticed my sleeves had slid up and his thumb gently rubbed the scorched scar near my elbow.

“What do we have here? A bind rune?” His eyes held firm to the mark.

Dammit. The fact he saw the straight lines of a rune amidst the bruising only heightened my unease that I’d done something horribly wrong by touching the edges of the Chasm. Most days, the mark was faded, but since returning from the shore last night, it was red and raised.

“It’s nothing. A clumsy moment with a bruise to prove it.”

By the hells, let that be the end of it. I didn’t want overwrought fears about the Chasm and runes to bleed into my thoughts and take away from this moment and this man’s hands on my body.

He dragged his thumb over the outline of the bruise for a few more heartbeats. I needed to steal his attention back. A slow roll of my hips brushed against his. The copper red of his gaze returned.

“Show me who you are.”

For a moment he seemed to gnaw on the request. “Then you must play a game with me, little bird. I’ll tell you two truths, and one lie. Guess the lie, and I’ll do as you please. Get it wrong, and you do as I please. Agreed?”

All gods.

When I paused too long, he tilted his head. “Afraid?”

. I simply didn’t know if it was fear a stranger might harm me, or that I’d be ruined for anyone else come morning. The precipice was there. I needed to decide if I leapt over the edge or remained unchanged. Comfortable.

“Agreed,” I croaked out at last.

“Good.” He shifted, so his hips were fitted squarely against mine, glided his other palm up my thigh again, and hooked my leg around his waist. “You have family, but I am the last of my line.”

My heart cinched. What a soft confession. His gloved hand kneaded the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. A gasp broke from my throat when he pinched my skin, a tease, but the bite of pain shocked my blood.

“Next one,” he said, voice rough. Again, his hand began its torturous climb toward my center. “My magic frightens others, so I am careful where I use it.”

“What is your fury?” I winced. He might not be Night Folk fae. “I mean, what is your magic?”

“Ah, I can’t tell you yet, or that would ruin the game.” He chuckled and released my wrists to hold me around the waist when the barest flick of his thumb found the wet slit of my core. I sucked in a breath and clung to his shoulders like a ballast in a maelstrom.

“Since boyhood,” he went on, circling his thumb over my sensitive flesh. “I’ve had a favorite folktale. You might know it.”

“What . . . what is it?”

“Have you ever heard the tale of the songbird and the sea serpent?”

My body stilled, frozen in place. He’d gone as still as me, and his fingers dug into my hip with an unforgiving grip.

“Do you know it?” he asked, voice rough.

“I-I think so.” Hair prickled on the back of my neck.

“Do you know how it ends?”

I shook my head.

He laughed, not gently anymore, almost wicked. “You’ve now told me three lies, Songbird.”

“What did you call me?”

“That was what you wanted to be, wasn’t it? The songbird the serpent didn’t destroy.”

From the inside of his tunic, he produced a string of twine around his neck. On the end, a silver swallow. As bright and smooth as the day I’d tossed it into the cell.

Blood froze in my veins. I didn’t blink when his thumb abandoned the horridly intimate place beneath my dress and tucked beneath the jaw of his mask. Time slowed when the stubbled jaw came into sight, the scar that puckered one part of his top lip, until those seductive eyes turned cruel and vicious.

The mask thudded onto the floor.

.

My mouth moved before my mind could convince it to keep quiet. “

.”

His lips curved in a vicious snarl. The point of one of his slightly elongated teeth sent a shock of fear to my chest. “Hello, love. I promised I’d come for you. Have you figured my lie yet? For I have figured yours.”

The way he had me balanced on one leg made it hardly an effort to kick my feet out from beneath me. I screamed as I fell. In the next moment, Bloodsinger had me on my back, his body forming a cage over the top of me.

“A bruise? Is that what’s on your arm? No, I don’t think so.” He slid the sleeve of his tunic up his arm where a raised scar, nearly identical to mine, marked the place below the bend of his elbow. The same rune in beautiful filagree designs. Bloodsinger leaned his face alongside my cheek. “Where is the mantle? You said you’d keep it safe.”

He’d slaughter me if he ever found out. I thrashed, trying to squirm out of his grip. Erik merely tightened his hold and smashed my arms to my sides. “Why so afraid? Did you change your mind about seeing me again?”

“Go to the hells,” I spat.

“That’s not polite, love.” A scream scraped from my throat when he gripped my jaw. “Now, I’ll ask again. Where. Is.

?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Bloodsinger clicked his tongue in disappointment. “No doubt your father does, right, Songbird?”

I pinched my lips. He was mad if he thought I’d put my mistake at the feet of my father. I’d never give up any of my family.

At my silence, he laughed. “That’s answer enough. Up you go.”

Long overdue, my damn instincts recalled I was the daughter of warriors. I clawed at his face. Again, he yanked my wrists over my head. I kicked at his legs. He pressed all his weight against me. My knee sought every bleeding man’s weak spot, but before I could thrust my leg, Bloodsinger had a stiletto dagger leveled at my throat.

“That’s enough. All these turns, I thought you wanted me to take you away from here.”

Teeth bared, I lifted my forehead to his. “Touch me and my father will hunt you down to the depths of your hellish kingdom.”

His laugh rattled against my body.

“Oh, love.” Bloodsinger stroked his gloved knuckles over my cheek. “That is exactly my hope.”

The bastard gripped my hair and dragged me to my feet. I screamed and thrashed, and in the next breath had a soft, black scarf wrapped around my wrists. In and out, he wove the fabric like chains across my skin. When I fought, when I flailed my arms, he hummed and tightened his grip on my skin. Bastard enjoyed the fight.

Once my wrists were bound, Bloodsinger slammed me into his chest. “Let’s take a walk.”

I spit in his face.

Through a wretched sort of laugh, he gripped my chin, arching my neck. “Hear well your options. Walk with me, or I order my crew to slaughter everyone. I swear to you, those drunken fae downstairs will never see them coming. I’ll be sure to point the loneliest men at that pretty friend of yours.”

“You bastard.”

He slammed my back to the wall. The force of it robbed me of my breath.

“I promise you something, my little songbird.” Those eyes leered down his straight nose. This close I could make out the faintest freckles on his soft brown skin. Reluctantly, my lungs filled with the odd scent of him, salt and leather and something sweet, like the sugared glazes in the hall. Bloodsinger pressed his lips to the side of my cheek. My fists clenched as he whispered, “You will be a pleasure to break.”

The next moments blurred. The sea king stole a tallow candle off a sconce and dragged me toward the window. My screams, at long last, drew pounding footsteps up the winding tower steps. Guards shouted commands. They called my name.

“It’s sea fo—” My words cut off when Bloodsinger’s rough palm covered my mouth.

“I could do with a bit more subtlety.” He shook his head, as though disappointed and paused at the window.

Moonlight shone through diaphanous paint on the glass. A painting from last turn when I’d stroked long brambles of red roses and tall, green waves.

Almost tenderly, Bloodsinger undid the latch and nudged the window open. I’d half expected him to grin as he shattered the first part of my world.

He tipped the candle to the lower slats of the roof. Something glistened over the surface, but at the touch of the spark, a running flame spread over the top of the wooden slats.

“No!” I struggled until he shoved me through the window.

Erik Bloodsinger took hold of the scarf binding my wrists. A wink was all he gave before he took off across one of the thick beams, the opposite direction as the blaze devouring my entire world.