Page 53 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

Some say my mind has been corrupted.

I say the world is what made it so.

Tabitha Wysteria

Dawn knew they were lost. Irrevocably, unforgivably lost. Wandering into the cursed embrace of the Forest of Endless Trees had been foolish; believing they might find their way back out again was simply delusional.

She had long since lost count of the days or even weeks they’d spent beneath its eternal canopy, every direction as hopeless as the last. But if she was destined to rot here, she would not do so beside a wyverian.

Her fury had dulled into resignation. Now she drifted through the forest like a ghost, trudging over roots and moss-covered stones, offering half-hearted prayers to gods she’d never much liked.

Perhaps one of them would take pity and point her to an exit.

Perhaps not. The silence was unsettling, especially from the wyverian, who spent his time muttering under his breath and casting irritated glances her way, as though that might be enough to scare her off.

‘There’s a lake,’ she said suddenly, shattering the silence like glass.

‘Splendid,’ Kai muttered. ‘Might be the perfect place to drown you.’

She kicked the back of his knee, again . A habit she was becoming far too fond of. Ducking out of reach, she darted forward, eyes alight with triumph. ‘Untie me, wyverian. I haven’t properly bathed in days.’

‘I’m painfully aware.’

‘You reek too.’

‘I’m not untying you.’ Kai folded his arms across his chest, unmoved by her scowl. ‘Don’t pout. It won’t help your case.’

‘I can’t bathe like this. It’s absurd. I’ve no magic left, you overgrown lizard! If I did, I’d have turned you into something obscene by now. Untie me this instant!’

‘Still no.’

‘Suit yourself.’ With an indignant huff, she turned and marched towards the glimmering waters ahead.

It was a secluded lake, cradled by thick bushes and twisted vines, the mirror-like surface undisturbed.

She paused by the shore and twisted round, gesturing at him with theatrical exasperation. ‘Go away.’

Kai snorted. ‘Keep dreaming. I’m not letting you out of my sight.’

‘Turn around.’

‘No.’

‘Close your damned eyes, pig!’

‘Still no.’

She groaned and spun back to the lake, defeated. With one eye on him, she began tugging at her green dress, fumbling with the fabric. Her frustration only grew at the sound of his dry laughter.

‘Do hurry,’ he drawled, finally glancing away, more out of boredom than courtesy. ‘You truly do reek. ’

Dawn cursed under her breath and hurried into the shallows, the water lapping at her dress as she stayed close to the shoreline, close enough to avoid the risk of drowning.

She scrubbed herself as best she could, muttering irritably at the absurdity of bathing with her hands bound and her dress still clinging to her like a second skin.

The fabric dragged around her legs, heavy and awkward, but it was the only modesty she had left.

When she glanced over her shoulder, she caught him watching. Kai Blackburn’s black eyes did not stray, fixed on her with a gaze sharp enough to pierce armour. Her skin prickled under the weight of it, as if thousands of tiny needles had embedded themselves just beneath the surface.

She yelped when she heard the clink of metal.

Turning fully, she saw him stripping out of his armour piece by piece, until he stood utterly bare before her.

Gods. Dawn had known wyverians weren’t shy about nudity, but the sight of him, unflinching, unabashed, made her cheeks flush as if the sun itself had scorched her.

Since Ash, she’d been with others: warlocks who were good for forgetting, for pleasure without meaning.

None of them had made her blush. None had undone her with a single look.

But Kai Blackburn was not like other men.

‘Do not dare get in the water!’ she shrieked the moment his feet met the ripples. ‘We can take turns!’

‘You are too slow,’ he said, stepping further in, steam rising as his cold skin met the warmth. His shoulders eased slightly, though his tone remained curt. ‘And I don’t trust you near my things, witch.’

‘I have a name.’

‘It’s witch.’

Her hand sliced the water with such force that it smacked him full in the face.

She froze for a heartbeat, uncertain whether she’d pushed too far.

But when his expression remained unreadable, the fear faded, replaced with that familiar fire.

She squared her shoulders and held her ground.

She would not cower before him. No man would make her flinch.

His jaw clenched, and when his eyes locked onto hers, it was as though the stars had collapsed inward. The weight of him, of that stare, pressed down on her until her breath caught in her throat.

‘You don’t know how to behave,’ he said, low and tight.

‘As I said,’ she replied, her voice a defiant whisper, ‘I’m not a dog.’

‘What are you, then?’ he growled, anger gleaming in those midnight eyes.

‘I’m... I’m just Dawn.’

The storm in his stare faltered, confusion softening its edges. It was as if, for the first time, he saw her not as a witch, not as a threat or a nuisance, but as a woman. The question had undone something in both of them.

He looked away, as though her answer had shaken him more than he’d admit.

But Dawn wasn’t finished.

With wicked intent curling behind her lips, she drifted closer. Their bodies brushed, just for a moment, and the sharp coldness of his skin lit a fire beneath hers. Something in her came alive, wild and electric.

Dawn parted her lips, a teasing retort poised on her tongue, but no words emerged.

His back pressed against her chest, warm and solid, and slowly he turned.

Now they stood face to face, his body aligned with hers, as though carved to fit the same space.

His stare dipped, lingering on the wet cling of her dress, something unspoken glinting behind his eyes, perhaps a trace of regret that he hadn’t let her swim bare beneath the sunlight.

Without warning, his large hands slid to her waist, claiming it with firm purpose, erasing any breath of distance.

He leaned in, lips hovering close enough to steal the air from her lungs.

His right hand ghosted down the length of her side, cupping her rear possessively, squeezing with wicked intent.

‘Is this what you want?’ he said, his voice low, velvet-soft, brushing against her neck like a sin made flesh.

Her breath hitched, her head tilting back in offering.

The thin fabric of her dress did nothing to hide the stiff peaks of her nipples, nor the liquid heat that bloomed and coiled between her thighs, spreading like fire through her limbs.

‘Touch me,’ she moaned, her nails pressing crescent moons into his skin, urging him to do more, take more.

But instead, his hands left her body, shifting to her arms and holding her in place with a force that stilled her breath.

A smile bloomed across his lips. Not one of passion, but one edged in cruelty. A hunter’s grin.

Dawn barely had time to react before he shoved her backwards into the water.

The shock stole the breath from her lungs. Cold swallowed her. She surfaced coughing, spluttering, her limbs flailing as she clawed her way to the water’s edge, collapsing on solid earth as water streamed from her sodden hair and dress.

‘You motherfu—’

But Kai was already dressing, laughter ringing through the day like steel bells.

‘You think I’d fall for a witch’s charms so easily?’

She didn’t answer. Her hair clung to her face like ribbons, and her soaked dress clung tighter still.

Breathing came hard. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the sob trapped deep within her chest, but it rose all the same.

And though she told herself she wouldn’t cry, not in front of a wyverian, certainly not in front of him, the tears came anyway.

Silently at first, until her hands flew up to her mouth to keep the sound of her heartbreak from escaping.

The cold crept under her skin and into her bones. And with it came shame, fury, and a sorrow so sharp it stole what was left of her strength. Trembling, soaked to the marrow and hollowed by exhaustion, she wept quietly and fiercely into her palms.

She drew her knees to her chest, frustration simmering just beneath her skin. The silence stretched, taut and bitter, as she felt Kai’s presence close in. Still, she refused to acknowledge him, even when his calloused fingers found the bindings around her wrists and quietly set her free.

‘We need to move and find shelter before nightfall,’ he said, his voice a low rumble. His dark eyes caught the glimmer on her cheeks, and he paused, frowning as though tears were a language he didn’t understand. As though witches, in his mind, were incapable of sorrow, of softness.

Dawn rubbed her freed wrists and rose wordlessly, trailing after the infuriating wyverian with as much dignity as she could gather from the dirt.

…

‘It’s there or nowhere, witch.’

‘I choose nowhere,’ Dawn snapped, folding her arms across her chest with the elegance of a scorned empress.

Kai grunted, a low, guttural sound of suffering, which only made her grin with wicked delight. It warmed her far more than anything else had that day.

‘There is absolutely nothing wrong with this shelter,’ he muttered, gesturing towards the crooked wooden hut nestled between two gnarled trees.

Dawn cocked her head, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the pathetic excuse for shelter.

The roof sagged like a tired sigh, and the walls leaned into the wind with resigned despair.

It would shield them from a storm, perhaps, but it reeked of forgotten ghosts.

‘We won’t be able to feel the fire from in there,’ she said.

‘Who said anything about a fire?’

She rolled her eyes so hard it might have summoned a storm. ‘We’ve spent every night shivering on damp earth, with no blankets, no fire, and no comfort. I’m cold.’

‘It’s too dangerous.’