House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City, #3)

She settled against him, seated fully, and her chest rose and fell so rapidly that Ruhn grabbed her hands, pressing kisses to her fingertips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and then her hips moved—and there was nothing more to say, to do, as she rode him.

He lifted his hips, and her moans heightened. He wished he could devour the sound. He made do by rising up, kissing her thoroughly, her legs wrapping around his middle. It plunged him impossibly deeper, and he lost it. Went positively feral at being so far inside her, at the smell and taste of her—

Lidia met him stroke for stroke, met his savagery with her own, teeth grazing his neck, his chest. Every thrust had him rubbing an inner wall, and fuck, he was going to die from this pleasure—

Then her head tipped back, and her delicate muscles tightened around him as she came, sending him spiraling after her. He pounded into her through it, that feral part of him relishing spilling into her, and she was his and he was hers, and there was a word for it, but it eluded him.

She stilled, and Ruhn took her weight as she leaned against him, their bodies now a tangle of arms and legs, his cock still buried to the hilt. Her every breath pushed against him, and he stroked his fingers down the column of her spine, over and over.

She was here. He was here.

For as long as Urd would allow them to be.



* * *



Lidia lay in Ruhn’s arms as the hours passed, sleep eluding her.

It had been everything she’d wanted, needed, this joining with him. She’d never felt so safe, so cherished. And yet her sons remained in the Asteri’s hands. In Pollux’s hands.

The hours dripped by. Lidia shut down the part of her that cataloged every possible torment that might be inflicted on Brann and Actaeon. The torments that she herself had inflicted on so many others.

Maybe this was her punishment for that. Her punishment for so many things.

Ruhn stirred, and Lidia nestled closer to him, breathing in his scent, savoring the strength of his body around hers.

And tried not to think about tomorrow.





87


Hiding out in the unmarked van parked in a dusty alley of the Eternal City the next morning, Ruhn peered over at where Lidia sat stone-faced against the metal siding, and slid closer.

She’d barely slept, and Ruhn didn’t blame her. A glimpse at her haggard face this morning as they’d crept out of the safe house and back into the van had kept him close to her, offering what comfort he could. Now he laid a hand on her knee and said, “Another hour or so. Then we’ll head into the palace.”

Another hour until Declan could confirm that the Asteri were well and truly distracted by the video they’d unleashed into the world. From Dec’s initial reports this morning, it was a giant clusterfuck. The footage had been blasted on every news channel and social media site. Dec had also confirmed that he’d hacked into the imperial network and learned that this morning, the Asteri and their advisors would all be meeting to discuss the fallout. The news about the parasite had really resonated. All media outlets were abuzz with chatter about it. And the footage of Bryce killing Micah, her claims about how Danika and the pack had died …

It didn’t matter that the imperial network had pulled the footage almost immediately. It was already out there, circulating on private servers, being downloaded onto phones. Being watched and analyzed over and over again. Imperial trolls tried to insist it was fake, planting comments that it was a manipulated video, but Dec made sure that footage of Bryce running through the streets of Lunathion this spring, saving the whole city, made it out, too.

And there were people out there who remembered that, who had seen her running to save them. They vouched for her, confirming not only that she had saved the city from Hel, but also from the brimstone missiles the Asteri had launched.

The Asteri had a lot on their hands that morning. Exactly as planned. And once their emergency meeting had begun, it would be time to make a move.

“A single misstep and my sons …,” Lidia began, swallowing hard.

“Set the fear aside,” Ruhn said, offering her the honesty she’d so often given him. “Focus on the task, not the what-ifs.”

“He’s right,” Bryce added from where she and Athalar sat nearby, leaning against each other. Flynn and Dec sat in the front, the former monitoring the streets, the latter with a laptop on his knees, hacking his way into the imperial military controls for the mech-suits. Another few hours, and they’d be in. “Leave the baggage behind today.”

Lidia straightened. “My sons are not baggage—”

“No,” Bryce amended, “they’re not. But you know that palace better than anyone. Any distractions are going to cost us.”

“I know Pollux better than anyone,” Lidia said, staring ahead at nothing. “And that’s why it’s unbearable to sit here.”

“Rest up while you can, Lidia,” Athalar advised. “All Hel is going to break loose pretty damn soon.”

“Literally,” Bryce said with unnerving cheer.



* * *



Ithan buried the Prime in the heart of the meadow, so his soul might feel the romping joy of pups for generations to come.

If any of them survived this.

Tharion had called him, asking where the fuck he was, and Ithan told the mer to head to the Eternal City without him. To try to find Bryce and Athalar and get the antidote to them or any of their friends before they went full-tilt at the Asteri. If the antidote had leveled him up, then he couldn’t even imagine what it would do to Bryce and Athalar.

Ithan shouldered his backpack and the Godslayer Rifle that Roga had loaned, and left the main building of the Den. Perry was again standing guard at the booth outside the gates.

“Did you get any rest?” Ithan asked, poking his head in. From the bruises under her eyes, he knew the answer before she nodded. “I told you to get some sleep.”

“I wanted to be here,” she said, “in case anyone came looking for help or had questions.”

His chest tightened at her thoughtfulness—her kindness. “And did anyone?”

“No,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“You should get down to the Blue Court.”

Her gaze found his. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” he said. He hadn’t slept much either, but he’d forced his body to rest. He knew he had to be at full strength for what was to come.

Perry’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. Her brows knitted.

“What is it?”

She opened up her phone and read aloud, “ ‘Bryce Quinlan and Hunt Athalar killed the Archangels Micah and Sandriel this spring.’ There’s … there’s video footage of Bryce …”

Ithan’s heart began racing. He was too late. Bryce was already making her move.

“I need to go,” he said. “I have to help her however I can.”

Perry rose from her seat in the booth. “Good luck, Ithan. I … I really hope I see you again.”

He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, her cinnamon-and-strawberry scent washing over him. Just as it always had—like she hadn’t taken the antidote. He set aside his curiosity about it again. “I hope I see you again, too,” he said against her hair, and pulled back.

Her eyes shone with tears. “Please be careful.”

He adjusted the straps on his backpack. “Get to the Blue Court, Perry.”



* * *



“I’m in the imperial network,” Declan announced a couple hours later.

Hunt finished arming himself with the few weapons he’d taken from what Fury Axtar had managed to bring in that helicopter: two handguns and a long knife. It wasn’t much, but Axtar had chosen the weapons well. They were all solid, reliable pieces.

“Those mech-suits are no fucking joke.” Dec shuddered. “But I’m ready to go when you guys are.”

Hunt checked the gun holstered at his thigh. The clip was loaded. Reloads sat in his back pocket. He could have used the comfort of his Umbra Mortis suit with its twin swords nestled in the sheaths down its back. But two handguns, a knife in his boot, and his lightning would have to do. He would have to do.

Just Hunt. He could live with that.