“Hello, Finley.”
My eyes go wide in disbelief.
He’s addressing me and only me.
He knows my name.
And his voice has the consistency of deep liquid silk, and the ability to momentarily trap me in its resonance, and I’m fighting against him; swimming against the tide of his overwhelming presence.
Gather yourself, Finley Solisar. This is not the time nor place to become smitten. Especially by one that you have no business being smitten with.
Ever.
I take a deep breath and try to summon some semblance of sanity.
I remind myself that we have an audience.
My father’s still on the ground, pinned by Kaithar, head pointed in the opposite direction. He can’t see us; can’t see the demon. There are soldiers all around us.
The big Vikurian wears a wicked grin, as if he’s been waiting for this.
What is going on?
My awareness of my surroundings shatters as my attention snaps back toward him.
Despite all my misgivings, I can’t help but stare.
He’s so still… and yet it feels like he could explode into violence at any moment.
He’s absolutely beautiful and utterly terrifying.
“Why are you here?” I ask, and even though I’m all fear and turmoil inside, my voice comes out sounding perfectly calm and even.
The pale demon reaches out.
The callused pads of his fingers gently graze my lower lip. They come away stained with a tiny smear of my blood.
He brings his fingers to his mouth and tastes it. My blood.
He closes his eyes. A visible shudder courses through him. He takes a deep breath.
Nobody dares move. Nobody says a word. Even Kaithar is quiet.
The demon turns away, glancing down at my father. “Restrain him and take him to the dungeons,” he says quietly, his voice colder than the winter snow outside. “I will deal with him personally.”
“Y-you can’t do this,” my father protests, his voice hoarse; filled with outrage and disbelief. “I am a member of the Rahavan nobility. Where is the Archduke Duthriss? I demand to speak with him at once.”
The demon makes a small gesture with his hand.
Kaithar leans in and whispers something soft and menacing in my father’s ear.
Father goes perfectly still. His men hang back, wisely reading the mood.
They’re outnumbered five to one. There’s nothing they can do here.
And the one commanding the situation with ridiculous ease is the man standing right before me.
He wields authority like a second skin.
Like he was born to it.
And his face…
Even though I have no idea who he is, now that I think about it, there’s a certain familiarity to his features. It’s jarring; as if some huge and obvious realization is about to hit me between the eyes, and yet my mind will not accept that answer.
It cannot be.
“Please, don’t kill him,” I say softly, sounding detached and emotionless. Because although my father is a cruel, petty fool, I don’t want him dead…
Do I?
The pale demon ignores my request. “Come with me, Finley Solisar.” His tone is stern and commanding; a whipcrack through the cold air.
Behind it, I sense fury, about to spill over.
My feet are frozen to the ground.
Why would I go with him? I don’t even know who he is.
Or what he is.
What if he’s…?
No. Impossible.
“And if I refuse?” My lips move before my brain has a chance to apply logic.
I hear Kaithar’s soft snort in the background. Irritation prickles through me. Is there anything the big guy doesn’t find amusing?
The pale demon glowers at me. “You can’t.”
It’s both a command and a desperate plea.
My head swims.
What would he do if I refused? Threaten to lock me in the dungeon with my father?
My feet, hitherto frozen, begin to move, even though my thoughts are still encased in ice. Something painfully obvious is staring me right in the face, and I don’t want to even begin to comprehend it.
I follow him.
Across the frost-burnished stone, past the soldiers, away from Kaithar and my father, who looks so pathetic and small.
I’ve never seen father like this before.
In Ruen, he’s the lord of his domain, the ultimate authority. His word is law, and he rules over us with an iron fist.
Here, he’s nothing.
These men of Tyron… they’re wild and hard and they care nothing for the laws of the empire.
And the one that wields authority over them is this inhuman stranger. Whether agent or servant or commander of the seemingly nonexistent Archduke Duthriss, I know not.
All I know is that he walks bloody fast, and I have to quicken my pace to catch up with him, and I can’t help but stare at his back; at his broad shoulders and lean, powerful physique.
In spite of the chill, he’s wearing only a thin white shirt, tucked into a pair of finely tailored deep grey trousers that accentuate the taut perfection of his ass and his long, muscular legs.
His long hair swirls around his shoulders, and the effect on me is mesmerizing.
Seven Furies help me, but I can’t stop staring.
We pass through an arched gateway and take a sharp left turn, disappearing from the view of the men back there.
Suddenly, I feel terribly alone. Vulnerable.
He could do anything to me right now.
And he does.
He turns around, moving so fast I see only a blur of white and shadow and piercing red. He doesn’t care that he moves like a spirit; like the winter wind and the fury of a silent blizzard. He cuts through time itself, and I, a mere mortal, can’t do a thing against him.
It’s so fucking unfair.
I’m in his arms again.
And we fly.
17
FINLEY
Does he do this because he knows it will shock me, or is he truly unaware of how destabilizing it is to be swept up into a monster’s arms and carried away into a vast and unfamiliar stone castle?
How can I even fathom the thoughts and logic of someone who isn’t human?
He shoots up flights of stairs as if they were nothing. We navigate a maze of stone corridors at terrifying speed, passing a shocked onlooker—a soldier or servant, I can’t quite be sure, because as soon as I catch sight of the hapless soul, we’re gone.
We pass frosted windows and heavy wooden doors. I catch glimpses of opulence amidst the stark walls and cavernous ceilings. A stunning tapestry of a forest in autumn, threaded with gilt. A series of menacing monster-heads, taxidermied and turned into trophies on the wall. Fine rugs on the floors, intricately woven; shades of cream and grey laced with vibrant flourishes of red, green, and blue.
I’ve never seen anything like it before.
And yet, none of it matters.
I’m completely helpless in this powerful creature’s arms, and we’re entering another doorway now, passing through an antechamber into yet another room, and it’s warm in here, and it smells of wood and smoke and leather.
All of a sudden, I’m being set down on my feet, and he takes a sharp step back from me, recoiling as if I’m covered in a noxious substance.