Page 33 of With Wing And Claw

She only knew, down to the marrow of her bones, that she couldn’t,couldn’tlet herself reveal the unforgivable depths of her need.

‘Stop.’ It was barely more than a wheeze, the sound of her voice. ‘Stop.’

The vines slowed.

No time to think. No time to reconsider. The words spilled from her lips in a garbled, desperate mess. ‘Fine.Fine. I give up. You win. I’ll sleep on that gods-damned couch. I’ll—’

Naxi stiffened for the shortest moment, then burst out laughing.

‘Please.’ Thysandra almost sobbed the word, wilting against the shelves. It was too light, that laughter. For a moment, it chased away every lingering shadow. ‘That … that was the deal. Leave me alone and I’ll let you take the bed –please. I … I can’t …’

‘Oh, as you wish, Sashka.’ At once the sultry temptation was gone, that tightly wound predator focus. Naxi bounced to the bedroom as the vines slithered away like snakes into their dens – a spring in her step that was almost more horrifying than the ruthless seduction of a moment before. ‘Make yourself comfortable here, then. You’re always welcome to join me if you change your mind.’

The next moment, the bedroom door fell shut behind her.

As if nothing of note had happened at all.

Thysandra staggered back to the couch, burning shame and burning arousal warring in her gut – the memory of those inhuman caresses lingering long after the vines themselves had retreated. The closed door seemed to be laughing at her. How easy, how incomprehensibly easy, would it be to turn that handle and—

A traitor’s daughter.

Fuck.

Was this all she’d be doing for the rest of her life, then – sacrificing her principles to pleasure over and over again?

The velvet cushions enveloped her as she let herself fall into the softness of the couch, eyes shut, skin aching with emptiness. Just like all those years ago, after the Last Battle. Just like all those nights she’d spent curled up in her windowsill, unable to face the praise and the victory waiting for her at court … Because that was what happened when you gave yourself even the smallest taste of what you wanted, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t stop craving it anymore.

One crack in your armour, and weakness would never stop pouring out again.

Just one night– she repeated the words to herself again and again as she wrapped her wings around her body, hiding her face between her arms so as not to see the bedroom door. Just a few more hours. Then Naxi would be gone from the Crimson Court, never to return, and she’d be free of these maddening desires, this constant pull to give in and hand herself over to yet another illusion of love …

One night.

Then she would be strong again.

Chapter 9

She woke to thebanging of fists on her door.

For a moment she barely knew where she was as she rolled off the couch and staggered to her feet, the riot of leaves and vines around her so different from her familiar living room that her sleep-fogged mind refused to recognise it. Then she hit her knee against the low table, and pain and memory bloomed together.

Right. Couch.

Naxi.

And a shrill, urgent voice on her doorstep, shouting her name.

Changing course, she raked a hurried hand through her tangled hair and snatched last night’s dagger from the floor. Could it be a trap? It could be a trap. Perhaps she should demand they bring in Nicanor first, to vouch for their peaceful intentions. Then again, that would put her further in Nicanor’s debtandshow the court that she didn’t dare rely on herself, which—

The bedroom door swept open, and Naxi darted into the room as if she was about to leave for a summer picnic.

She was wearing her own flower dress again, although without the bloodstains; she must have washed it the previous day. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders. From the smile on her face, one could have thought she’d lived in these quarters foryears– a suspiciously oblivious cheer, as if she had forgotten that she’d be out of here before she could move another vine.

Or … well, as soon as this more urgent disturbance had been dealt with, at least.

‘Morning, Sashka!’ she sunnily greeted, hiding a little yawn behind her hand. ‘They’re genuinely panicking outside, if you want to know. No murderous feelings waiting for you.’