“Then why did you stay?” he demanded, stopping inches from me. His eyes, though normal now, seemed to burn with an inner fire that had nothing to do with their colour. “Why are you still here, Septimus?”
The way he said my name — half challenge, half something else entirely — sent a jolt through my body that had no place in this blood-soaked alley.
“Because we’re on the same side,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Because whatever you are, whatever you did, you did it to protect Livia.”
“And that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Livia.” He practically spat her name. “Always Livia. Your childhood friend. The girl you swore to protect. The woman you can’t have.”
His words struck too close to the feelings I’d been trying to bury. Anger flared inside me. “Careful, Talfen,” I growled. “You’re treading dangerous ground.”
“Am I?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “What will you do, Septimus? Kill me? Go ahead and try.” He stepped even closer, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “But we both know you won’t. Because you need me. Because deep down, beneath all that hatred and prejudice, you’re just as fucked up as I am.”
Something snapped inside me. I grabbed the front of his blood-stained shirt, slamming him back against the alley wall. “Shut up,” I hissed. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you watch me when you think I’m not looking,” he said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I know your heart rate speeds up when we’re close, like it is now. I can hear it, Septimus. I can smell your anger, your confusion — and something else you don’t want to admit.”
We stood frozen in that moment, my fists gripping his shirt, his back against the wall, surrounded by the men we’d killed together. The air between us crackled with tension that had nothing to do with hatred and everything to do with something I’d been denying for months.
“I hate you,” I said, the words coming out breathless, unconvincing even to my own ears.
“I know,” Tarshi replied. Then, with movements too quick to counter, he grabbed the back of my neck and crushed his mouth against mine.
23
The kiss was nothing like the ones I’d shared with Livia. It was brutal, dominating, a clash of teeth and tongues that tasted of blood and rage and forbidden desire. I shouldn’t have done it, I should have pushed him away. I expected him to. Actually, I expected him to drive the sword he held into my chest, or slit my throat with it.
What I didn’t expect was to hear the blade clatter to the ground as he grabbed my shirt with his hands and dragged me closer, kissing me back with equal ferocity.
When we finally broke apart, both gasping for breath, reality came crashing back. We stood in an alley surrounded by corpses, covered in blood, having just crossed a line I hadn’t even acknowledged existed until this moment.
“What in the name of the gods was that?” Septimus growled, his voice hoarse. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with something between rage and lust.
I couldn’t answer. My heart hammered against my ribs like a war drum. The metallic scent of blood mingled with sweat andsomething else — something primal that hung in the air between us.
“Tarshi,” he said, my name a warning on his lips.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it,” I snarled back, closing the distance between us again. “I’ve seen how you look at me.”
His back hit the alley wall. The flickering light from a nearby torch cast half his face in shadow, but I could see the conflict there — hatred warring with desire, and it set a fire burning inside me.
“I…” The words died in his throat as my hand slid up to grasp his jaw, thumb pressing against his lower lip with just enough pressure to hurt.
“I’ve watched you for months,” I said, voice raw. “And I know you’ve watched me. Even at the arena, I felt your eyes on me.”
“You’re a filthy half-breed,” he spat. “I was making sure you weren’t a danger to anyone.”
I stepped close enough to feel his body pressing against mine, but he didn’t push me away.
“And am I a danger to you, Septimus?” I asked, my hand sliding down his throat, feeling his pulse race beneath my fingers. “Because right now, I think I am.”
His eyes flashed, but instead of shoving me away, he grabbed the back of my neck and crushed his mouth to mine again. This kiss was even more vicious than the first, all teeth and dominance. I tasted blood — his or mine, I couldn’t tell.
When he pulled back, his breath came in ragged pants. “This changes nothing between us,” he growled.
“Of course not,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You still hate me. I still think you’re an arrogant bastard.”
My hand trailed lower, past the leather straps of his armour, feeling the hardness beneath his tunic. Septimus hissed, his head falling back against the wall.
“Tell me to stop,” I challenged him, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
