Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

“Are you sure this is what you wish?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

“To be of service to me?” Lord Thorne clarified. “When I’m not injured?”

“Yes.” I fixed a smile on my face. “Of course.”

“And you understand what that entails? That I will seek pleasure and I will feed on it?”

The way he said that made this sound like a business arrangement, and perhaps that was the appropriate way to think of this. After all, wasn’t that what this was? But it didn’t feel like that at all as I nodded.

He eyed me for several moments, his stare piercing, as if he could see right through me— through what was partially a facade. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure he could hear it. I didn’t dare look away or let my smile falter, didn’t want to give away how nervous I was.

Then he strode forward, completely at ease with the fact that not a single stitch of clothing covered him. He briefly caught my gaze again as he stepped into the tub and sank into the water, giving me a nice view of a rather firm rear.

His ass truly was extraordinary.

Lord Thorne hummed a sound of pleasure, drawing my gaze down. He’d let his head rest against the rim of the tub. With his eyes closed, I let myself take in the elegant features of his face and the display of his body. It was truly unfair that any being could look as . . . as decadent as my— Nope. Damn it, he was not my anything. I really, really needed to stop with that nonsense.

Refocusing, I glanced around the chamber and spied the soap. “Would you like me to bathe you?”

“It would please me greatly if you would.”

I placed the towel back on the stool.

“And I know it will please you greatly to do so,” he added.

It would, and the fact that he remembered that annoyed me. Also excited me as I went to one of the numerous shelves. I picked up a bar of soap that carried the faint scent of lemongrass. Turning, I saw that his eyes were open to thin slits and both arms lay on the edge of the tub. He watched me closely as I approached him. I could feel this . . . this tension crackling between us, electric and alive. A flutter of unease and . . . and something else started in my chest and moved lower.

“Is the water to your liking?” I knelt on the marble floor behind the tub.

“Very,” he replied, and the flutter moved again at that one word.

I placed the soap on the small metal caddy beside me. Hands lathered, I reached for his arm.

He gave a little jerk when my hands touched him, like he’d done in the shower. Or I did this time. Maybe we both did. I wasn’t sure as he lifted his arm for me and I drew my hands up, hoping he didn’t notice the faint tremor in them.

Silencing my own thoughts was harder than before, but I managed. Like before, I . . . I heard none of his thoughts. There was a good chance I was simply too distracted once more by how hard and smooth his skin was. It was almost like granite. Did all of him—

Nope.

Was not going there.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Lord Thorne said, the roughness of his voice drawing my gaze from his arm. His head was still resting against the rim, eyes closed.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Anything,” he answered. “The silence allows my mind to wander to what your hands will feel like on my dick.”

My hands halted at his elbow for half a heartbeat as a sudden sharp, twisting motion pulsed through me. A little breathless, I resumed tracing the length of his strong arm. “Is that something you wish to prevent your mind from wandering to?”

The corners of his lips tipped up. “Not normally; however, I’ve come to learn that I enjoy you bathing me, and I do not wish to rush it.”

Skin flushing with a heat that now came from within, I slipped my hands over his shoulder and then down one side of his chest. “I’m not sure what to tell you, my lord.”

“Our paths have now crossed three times,” he said, and I mentally corrected him. Four times. Our paths had crossed four times. “Yet, I know little about you. You can start with something easy. Like are you from Archwood?”

“No.” My slippery fingers slid over the stonelike skin of his upper stomach.

“The Midlands at all?”

I considered lying but decided against it as I re-lathered my hands. “I’m from the southern lands.”

“The Lowlands?”

“Close about.” That was somewhat of a lie. Union City existed on the border of the Lowlands and Midlands. I dragged my teeth over my lower lip. “Where are you from?”

“Vytrus.”

My heart skipped over itself. Vytrus was the Hyhborn Court nestled deep in the Highlands, the northernmost territory of Caelum and incredibly far from the Midlands, and yet, we all knew of the Prince of Vytrus. He was said to be one of the most dangerous of Hyhborn, unpredictable and volatile as the lands that he protected, and the hand of the King’s wrath. The King’s . . .

I’m one of the King’s favorites, in case you’ve forgotten.

The breath I took went nowhere as I stared at the back of his head and a sudden sense of knowing filled me. “The Prince of Vytrus?” I whispered. “What is his name?”

He turned his head slightly. A moment passed. “You already know it.”





CHAPTER 15


A faint tremor ran through my arms. “You’re not a lord.”

“No, I am not.”

Heart leaping, I jerked my hands back as if I’d been scalded while one chaotic thought crashed into another. I’d been touching a Hyhborn prince. The Prince of Vytrus was my Hyhborn. The dangerous, deadly being I’d rescued and was currently bathing was a prince. Oh my gods, Finn and those fools had bled and tortured a prince, almost—

“Finally,” he . . . Prince Thorne murmured.

I jolted. “Finally what?”

He faced forward. A moment passed. “You’re afraid.”

I blinked rapidly. Was I afraid? Who wouldn’t be, but . . . “You let me believe you were a lord.”

“I did.” His shoulders had tensed. “Is that why you’re now afraid? Because you know who I truly am?”

“I’m . . . I’m a little uneasy. You’re a prince and you have quite the . . .”

“Reputation?” he finished for me.

“Yes.”

His fingers tapped along the rim. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, na’laa.”

“Sure,” I replied. “I mean, you can take a lowborn’s soul.”

“Just because I can, doesn’t mean I have.”

My brows shot up. “You’ve created no Rae?”

“Not in a very long time.”

I frowned at the back of his head. The way he said that . . . “Exactly how old are you?”

He chuckled. “Older than I look. Younger than you’re probably thinking.”

Well, that was also incredibly vague, but as the shock of his actual identity lessened and my heart calmed, I realized I . . . I wasn’t afraid of him. I was more afraid of what he was and why he was here. There was no way the King would’ve sent the Prince of Vytrus to collect tithes. He was here for another reason that I wasn’t sure had anything to do with the information he’d sought from Muriel. My heart started pounding again. When the Prince of Vytrus acted on the behalf of King Euros, violence and destruction almost always followed.

My throat dried as I forced myself to pull it together once more. I resumed servicing him, giving a fine shiver as my hands once more made contact with him. “Why have you not created any Rae in a long time?”

“Because it . . . seems unfair to do that to a soul.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t fair. Frankly, it was disturbing, but I hadn’t expected any Hyhborn to think that, let alone a prince. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

He said nothing to that.

I eyed the tense line of his shoulder and arms and decided to change the subject. “You’re very far from home.”

“I am.”

Opening my mind to his, I saw and felt that white wall. It was like standing with my face to the sun on a warm summer day. “This information that you sought from Muriel? Is that why you’re here?”

That wall— that shield of sorts— kept his mind silent as he said, “Partly.”

“That . . . sounds mysterious.”