Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

Knocking a wisteria vine aside, I plowed forward—

A dryly amused chuckle answered, causing tiny goose bumps to break out along my bare arms. That sound . . .

My eyes went wide as my foot immediately snagged on an exposed root. “Fuck,” I gasped, stumbling. I planted a hand on the rough bark of a nearby tree, catching myself before I planted my face into the ground.

Silence.

Utter complete silence surrounded me as I slowly lifted my head, face burning. I started to speak— to say what, I had no idea, because every single thought fled my mind as I saw two men standing beneath those damn spheres of light that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere to bear witness to my absolute fuckery. They both had turned toward me, and I zeroed in on the one my senses warned against.

He was blond and pale-skinned. Tall and attractive, his features so perfectly crafted that one would believe they’d been carved by the gods themselves, and I knew what that meant before I saw what was strapped to his hip. My blood immediately went cold at the sight of the dull, milky white of a lunea blade.

I didn’t know what shocked me more— that my intuition had actually worked with something that involved Hyhborn or that it had led me to . . . to him.

Fingers tangled in the vines, I could feel my heart pumping icy shock through my veins as my gaze shot to the other man, and I knew. I knew the moment I heard the soft, smoky chuckle.

Air leaked out of my lungs. He was standing mostly in the shadows and wearing all black. He would’ve blended into them if not for the glimpses of sandy-hued skin. I thought I might’ve forgotten how to breathe as he stepped more fully into the soft light of the orbs. I was sure the ground rolled beneath my feet.

It was him.

My Hyhborn lord.

The hard, carved line of his jaw tilted as his wide, lush lips curved into a half grin. “This is becoming a habit.”

“What is?” I heard myself whisper.

His features fell back into the shadows. “Meeting like this.”

“Who in the fuck is this?” the other Hyhborn demanded, jerking my attention back to him.

“I’m n-no one. I . . . I just was following the little balls of light— I like the balls . . . of light,” I blurted out, and my entire brain cringed. I like the balls? Gods. Untangling my fingers from the wisteria, I started to take a step back. “Sorry, please just forget that I was here— that I even exist.”

A slice of moonlight cut across the lower half of my Hyhborn’s face— and gods, he wasn’t mine. His grin had deepened. “One moment, please.”

The “please” stopped me.

Because a Hyhborn lord, even him, saying that? To me? A lowborn? That was . . . that was unheard of. He hadn’t even said that last night, when he asked for my help.

Then everything happened so fast.

The other Hyhborn cursed, darting backward as he withdrew the lunea dagger, but the other lord was faster. He caught the Hyhborn by the wrist and twisted. The crack of bone was like thunder. I smacked my hand over my mouth, silencing a scream.

The Hyhborn hissed in pain as the blade fell to the ground. “You do this”— his lips peeled back— “you’ll regret it. With your very last breath, you will.”

“No, Nathaniel,” the Lord replied, and he sounded bored. Like Grady did whenever I started to talk about the different types of daisies. “I will not.”

I caught only a glimpse of the Lord’s fist. Just a second before it slammed against the Hyhborn’s chest— into his chest.

The one called Nathaniel threw his head back, his body jerking as my hand fell from my mouth.

“Just one more moment,” the Lord said, rather casually.

Golden fire erupted from Nathaniel’s chest— or from the Lord’s hand, which was still plunged deep inside said chest. The fire spread over Nathaniel in a rippling, violent wave of vibrant gold flames, and I suddenly knew exactly how the blacksmith’s and the Twin Barrels had been incinerated. Within a few heartbeats, all that remained of Nathaniel was . . . was a pile of ash and a few strips of charred clothing beside the fallen lunea blade.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, horrified . . . and a little awed by the display of power, but mostly horrified as I lifted my gaze. Behind where Nathaniel had stood, the pale blossoms were splattered with blood, just as I’d seen.

I lifted my stare to the Lord, who . . . who could barely walk on his own last night, whom I had just fantasized about while pleasuring myself, and he’d . . .

And he’d incinerated another with his hand.

If he could do that to one of his own, what in the whole wide realm of nope could he do to a lowborn?

I took a shaky step back, reminded once more of exactly what this lord was. Somehow, I’d forgotten that.

“Na’laa,” the Lord called softly.

My entire body jolted.

A strand of hair slipped forward and fell against his jaw as he bent, wiping his hand on one of the pieces of burnt clothing. “You should come closer.”

I inched back another step. “I don’t know about that.”

“Are you finally afraid of me?” the Lord asked, picking up the fallen lunea blade.

I wasn’t sure, but I knew I should be. I should be terrified.

His head cut in my direction. “Don’t move any further— ”

I moved several more feet. Somehow the fire he’d created was more unnerving than seeing him tear out Weber’s windpipe. I wasn’t even sure why, but—

Something snagged my braid, jerking me back. I cried out as pain radiated down my neck and spine. My feet slipped out from underneath me as I was spun. A hand clamped down on my throat. Dragged back against a wall of a chest, I gripped the hand upon my throat, and I heard absolutely nothing as I saw the tall Hyhborn lord through the swaying wisteria vines.

“Muriel,” the Lord drawled, and shock rolled through me. I knew that name. Finn and Mickie had spoken it. “I’ve spent all day looking for you.”

“Don’t come any closer,” the one holding me warned as I clawed at his hand, breaking my nails on the hard flesh of another Hyhborn.

The Hyhborn lord prowled forward slowly, the trailing vines lifting and swinging out of his way before his body even came into contact with them. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” the Lord said, ignoring Muriel. “But didn’t I tell you not to move?”

“I— ”

“Stop,” Muriel growled, cutting me off. His grip on my throat tightened. Panic threatened to seize me. “Or I will snap her fucking neck.”

“That neck is a pretty one,” the Hyhborn lord responded. “But why, Muriel, would you think I’d care if you did snap it?”

“Bastard,” I hissed before I could stop myself, disbelief having loosened my tongue.

The Lord cocked his head. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

I gaped at him. I’d helped him last night. Got him to safety. Risked my own life, and he didn’t care if my neck was snapped. “You just said— ”

Muriel dug his fingers into my throat, ending my words in a strangled gasp. “What did you do to Nathaniel?” he demanded.

“Put him in a time-out.” Another stream of blossoms fluttered out of his path. “Permanently.”

Muriel inched us back, forcing me onto the tips of my toes. “Why in the hell would you do that?”

“You know better than to ask that question, but since I’m feeling generous tonight, I’ll explain it to you. Besides the fact he was boring me,” the Lord answered, “he set me up. So did you.”

Muriel halted as I strained against his hold. “Yeah, I do know better.” He cursed again. “I should’ve known better than to trust lowborn to get the job done.”

“You should have.” The Lord paused. “And you should stop struggling while Muriel and I have our little chat. If not, you’re only going to harm yourself.”

Stop struggling? While Muriel crushed my windpipe?

“And you should be more worried about your own neck,” Muriel spat.

“Your concern for me warms my heart.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Muriel yanked me harshly to the side as I struggled to break free. Nothing worked. His hold remained firm. “You know, you brought this onto yourself.”