Page 52

“We’re here,” Kalen said when we came to a stop outside the curving red door. I’d never been inside the Tower of Crones. I wasn’t sure anyone had, other than Oberon. As if to punctuate his ownership of this place, he’d carved his symbol into the wood. The one-eyed dragon, spewing flames from his open jaw.

“He’s obsessed with dragons,” I said. “He puts that thing everywhere.”

“Even on your back.” Kalen’s voice was as sharp as the blade I carried on my waist.

I had the sudden urge to scratch that spot on my shoulder blade. “I hate that I have to spend the rest of my life marked as his. Even if he dies, I doubt it’ll ever go away. It’s in my skin. He’s branded me forever.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” Kalen tried the door. It creaked and swung wide. Dust motes swirled in the thick air, and a rush of lavender carried with it the sound of crying.

I gave Kalen a sharp glance. “Do you hear that?”

“The Mortal Queens,” he said quietly. “The sound is coming from up those stairs.”

He indicated toward the spiral stairwell leading from the entranceway to what I assumed was the top of this protected tower. Swallowing, I eased through the doorway and made for the stairs. The sobs grew louder, distinct cries that formed a chorus of pain. These women did not sound like relieved humans whose once-husband had safely joined them in their protected haven.

Kalen reached the stairs just before I did, and he started up first. “Keep an eye on your back. If anyone comes up behind you, whistle.”

“I don’t know how to whistle,” I said as we started the climb.

“Everyone knows how to whistle.”

“Blatantly not true, since I don’t.”

“I’ll add that to your training list.” He shot a glance over his shoulder. “For now, just say my name if you need to warn me.”

“Is that so?” I followed him around the next bend and still the stairs carried on. “Which name? Your Highness? Kalen? Kal? I know better than to call you the…you know.”

He chuckled. “Nevermind that anymore. You can call me whatever the fuck you want. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

I nearly stumbled on the next step as the heat closed in around me. The heat from the flames outside. Definitely from the flames.

“You’ve changed your tune,” I huffed as we neared the top of the stairwell. “I thought you hated that particular name. In fact, you made it pretty clear to me. I remember some shouting and—”

He stopped just ahead of me and then turned. Before I knew what was happening, he had me trapped against the stone wall with his warm breath tickling my neck. He leaned in and whispered into my ear, “I can’t hate anything when it’s coming from your lips.”

My body tensed, anticipation thrumming in my veins. His corded muscles brushed against my breasts, and I nearly shuddered. Mist swirled around us, cool and electric all at once. I wanted to pull him closer and feel his lips on my skin and erase every moment we’d spent apart—erase what I had done to him.

But Oberon could be through that door, now only a few steps away from us.

“Kalen,” I whispered, hating that I had to stop…whatever this was. Maybe it was nothing at all.

He pulled back, his eyes as dark as a moonless night. “I particularly like the sound of that name on your tongue.”

I flushed. “Oberon could find us here.”

“Good,” he said in a growl as his lips skimmed my neck. “I hope he does. And he will see that his claim on you means nothing. You are not his, and you never will be. Fuck his dragon mark.”

A thrill went through me. The possessiveness in his words should make me want to run, but it did the opposite. I wanted everything he said. To show Oberon I would never belong to him. To make him understand I would go down in the flames rather than see myself wed to him for eternity. I would have his greatest enemy take me in the stairwell just outside the room where he’d once tried to condemn me for the rest of an immortal life. The Tower of Crones would have been my home if Oberon had gotten his way, after I’d served him in his bed for seventy-five years.

“You are no one’s bride,” Kalen said fiercely. “Unless you want to be.”

Trembling, I tipped back my head, almost daring him to kiss me. His hand skated up the length of my arm before resting against my neck. Fingers spearing my hair, he fisted his hand around the strands and tugged. A flicker of delicious pain jolted through me. I suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“I will never let him touch you again. Do you understand me?”

“It might not be up to you,” I whispered back.

“He would have to rip my limbs from my body to stop me from protecting you. And even then, I would find a way.” Suddenly, he released his grip on my hair, and then he stepped back. A chasm of cold air yawned between us. “Stay behind me when we walk through that door. Do not run ahead, no matter what you see.”