Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

He stared at me for a moment. “That it has.”

I swallowed. “I think I . . . I need to return to the manor.”

Lord Thorne was silent, watching me closely. Intently.

Heart thumping, I took another step back. “I appreciate that you made sure I . . . I didn’t die back there and, um, that you watched over me.”

His head straightened. “So, you are appreciative of the aid you didn’t ask for?”

“Of course— ” I cut myself off, seeing the teasing lift of his lips. “You still didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

I held his stare for a moment, then nodded. “Good night,” I whispered.

I started to turn away.

“Na’laa?”

I twisted toward him, gasping as I jerked back, bumping into a nearby wisteria. Lord Thorne stood less than a foot before me, the trailing blossoms behind him still, completely undisturbed. I hadn’t even heard him move. He towered over me in the darkness of the tree, blocking out all traces of moonlight. My hands fell to my sides, palms pressing against the rough bark.

“There is something I must ask of you before you go,” he said.

The shallow breath I took was full of his woodsy, soft scent. What was that scent? I jolted at the unexpected touch of his hands on my shoulders. “What?”

“What you saw here tonight?” His hands coasted down my arms. The touch was light, but immediately sent my pulse racing. He reached my wrists. “With Muriel and Nathaniel? Do not speak of it.”

I shivered as his hands slid to my hips. The nightgown was no barrier against the warmth of his palms. His touch . . . it felt branding. “O-Of course.”

“To anyone,” he insisted, his hands leaving my hips and going to the halves of my robe. I sucked in a heady gasp of air as his knuckles brushed the curve of my stomach. He folded the robe closed, then found the sash.

I held my breath as he tied the sash just below my breasts. “I won’t.”

Remaining completely still as he finished with the sash, I felt my pulse pound as he then took ahold of my wrist and lifted it to his mouth. I couldn’t move. It wasn’t fear or distress that held me in place, and it should be.

Yet I wasn’t afraid.

It was . . . was an emotion I couldn’t name or describe as he turned my hand over, pressing his lips to the center of my palm, just as he had done the night before. The feel of his lips against my skin was a shock to the senses. They were soft and gentle, yet firm and unyielding, and when he lowered my hand, his breath traced the curve of my cheek until our mouths were mere inches apart.

Was he going to kiss me?

For one chaotic moment, an array of sensations assailed me— disbelief and wanting, panic and yearning. My heart hammered in confusion. I didn’t want to be kissed by a Hyhborn lord, especially one who currently felt vaguely threatening.

But I didn’t turn my head away when his breath danced over my lips. I knew in that moment what I’d discovered several times throughout my life: there had to be something seriously wrong with me. My eyes started to drift shut—

A cool wind kissed the nape of my neck.

Lord Thorne stilled.

Eyes opening, I felt that chill travel across my body. The night birds no longer sang. The entire garden was eerily silent, and as I glanced around, I saw that even the sōls seemed to have abandoned the area as that earlier feeling returned— the icy thickening of the air.

“Return to your home.” Lord Thorne’s voice was cooler and harder, falling against my skin like frozen rain. “Do so quickly, na’laa. There are things moving in the garden now that will find your flesh as tasty as I find it lovely.”

My stomach lurched. “Will you be okay?”

Lord Thorne stilled, and I supposed my question had rendered him speechless. It had also shocked me. Why would I be worried when I’d seen him incinerate another Hyhborn? Or why would I even care if he was okay? Because he had helped Grady and me once before? It felt like more than that, though.

“Of course,” he promised. “You need to hurry.” His hand firmed against my neck, then he let go.

I stumbled back, heart thundering. I opened my mouth—

“Go, na’laa.”

Trembling, I backed away and then I turned— I turned and ran, unsure of what unsettled me more. If it was the sounds of heavy wings beating at the night sky or if it was the inexplicable feeling that I shouldn’t be running.

That I should be standing at his side, facing what was coming.





CHAPTER 11


“How many?” the Baron demanded as he paced the length of one of the numerous receiving chambers near the Great Chamber. Only one tail of his crisp white shirt was tucked into the tan breeches he wore. His dark hair appeared as if he’d run his hands through it several times that morning, leaving it sticking up in different directions. “How many of my men were killed last night?”

“Three are confirmed to be deceased,” Magistrate Kidder responded from where he sat, his hands gripping his knees until his knuckles were bleached white. “But there were . . . pieces found along the outside of the manor wall that have led us to believe there may be two or more yet unconfirmed.”

Behind the gray-haired magistrate, Hymel frowned.

“Pieces?” Claude spun toward the Magistrate as my gaze flickered to the doorway, briefly meeting Grady’s. “What do you mean by pieces?”

“Well, to be more exact, there were additional limbs that outnumbered those accounted for.” Magistrate Kidder’s complexion was nearly as pale as the Baron’s shirt. “One leg and two additional arms.”

“Fuck,” Hymel muttered, lip curling.

The bite of cold meat sandwich I’d swallowed mere minutes ago immediately soured in my stomach. I slowly placed the fork and knife onto the table, immensely regretting not having taken my lunch in my quarters. But I hadn’t been prepared for Claude to storm into the space with the Magistrate in tow. Nor had I been prepared to learn that three of the Baron’s guards had been killed last night. Or four. Or five.

Claude grabbed a decanter from the credenza and drank straight from it. “How long before your people can find and clean up the remains that belonged to those additional arms and legs?” He set the decanter down heavily. “Guests have already begun to arrive for this evening’s festivities. The last thing I need is for any of them to stumble upon a random head or torso among the roses.”

I briefly closed my eyes, more disgusted by the Baron’s somewhat surprising utter lack of care regarding who those pieces belonged to than I was with the grotesque topic of conversation.

“I have several men out there right now, searching for possible remains,” the Magistrate assured him. “But I would suggest you close the gardens for the next several hours.”

“No shit,” Claude muttered, dragging his hand through his hair again. The water in my glass began to tremble as he started pacing again. “You’ve seen the bodies, right?”

Magistrate Kidder’s throat bobbed as he nodded. “And I won’t unsee any of it.”

Claude crossed in front of the window, momentarily blocking the sunlight. “What do you think caused this?”

“Likely what your cousin thinks and what the others reported seeing.” The Magistrate glanced back at Hymel. “Ni’meres.”

A shudder ran through me as I recalled the sound of wings beating against the air. I had to agree with what Hymel and the other guards were saying.

Ni’meres were another type of Hyhborn, the kind lowborn rarely dealt with or saw. I’d only ever seen them once before, when Grady and I were just kids, after leaving Union City. The stagecoach driver had spotted them on the road, circling a portion of the Wychwoods. They were something straight from a nightmare— a creature with a wingspan of over seven feet and talons longer and sharper than the claws of a bear. From the neck down, they resembled extraordinarily large eagles that stood nearly four feet tall.

But their head was that of a mortal.