“You can hate me, Hearteater, and still want me in your bed.”
She laughs, right in my face. “In your dreams, demon.”
How does she know?“All the best ones.” I study her dress, which clings to every inch of her. I never thought I would envy a sheet of silk. I hesitate for a split second. Then, “We do such depraved things, in my dreams.”
In my dreams, she doesn’t leave my room for days. In my dreams, her dresses are in tatters, and she doesn’t let us sleep. In my dreams, she is tangled in my sheets.
In my dreams, and only then, she is mine to keep. Forever.
And I am hers.
Isla opens her mouth. Closes it.
I lean even closer, hoping she closes the gap between us, hoping she kisses me. But she doesn’t.
Not yet.
And that’s fine. I can wait.
“When you finally do beg me to touch you—and you will—you won’t want anyone else to touch you ever again, Hearteater,” I say. “Late at night, you will think of me touching you. With my hands. My mouth.”
I think of all the dreams I’ve had of her, the ones I wish I could make real. There is no holding back; not anymore.
“And you will dream of me too.”
I step away, then reach down and grab the man who dared touch her, portaling him with me down to the dungeons.
As I rip him limb from limb—as I cut off the hands that dared touch her, as I rip off his lips with my shadows, as I listen to his screams and begs for mercy—all I think of is her.
FOOL FOR HER
Maybe I don’t need the sword.
That’s what I think days later, when I’ve finally gotten the man’s blood out from under my fingernails, because my shadows weren’t enough to satisfy me; I had to tear him apart with my bare hands.
Maybe Isla doesn’t need to die.
Perhaps I can be the solution. Maybe I alone am powerful enough to stop this. End it once and for all, with all this limitless power I never wanted.
That’s how I find myself at the scar with a dozen of my strongest warriors.
The air is filled with shrieks—it’s been breached again. I watch one of my men get torn in half right in front of me.
My shadows unleash, as I think of her.
Green eyes. One day, perhaps, looking at me with something other than hatred.
Green eyes ... beneath me.
Green eyes ... across an altar.
Green eyes ... in a child.
The thought nearly steals my breath, and I roar as shadows race from my fingers in waves. One after the other, the dreks in the sky turn to ash, falling around us, but I don’t stop.
I kill them all. I kill anything that can stand between her and me. Anything that can bring her harm.
I kill and kill and kill until my shadows run dry.
