Page 11 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

Harrow

W ho is that ?

One hand on her waist, another clasping her delicate fingers.

Someone is touching my things . My gaze narrows as I soak up every detail of their revelry.

The part of me that is unable to stay away from Lenore, the part that plucks out my own feathers to leave on her pillow, that obsessive, dangerous thing that stalks her day and night, awakens, uncoiling and rising to attention.

I’ve never seen her smile the way she’s grinning up at him.

She looks undeniably happy. And it is not my doing.

All flowers within a four-foot radius of where I stand, fuming and agitated, wither.

My eyes fixate on the tanned fingers that grip her delicate waist. They move ever so subtly as he caresses her through the silky fabrics.

She is not his to touch . Lenore stills, halting their dance.

The prince’s confident facade falters. A smile curves across my cheeks. Good. She’s come to her senses.

She rises on her toes, eyes falling shut and lips parting.

She’s going to kiss him. No. Night explodes around me faster than a mortal can blink.

It billows out, shadows shooting forward, engulfing every bit of daylight currently illuminating the garden.

Mortal eyes cannot see in the dark. But I can. I am the dark.

The doting couple pulls apart in the moments immediately following the blackout. As their fear picks up, they reach for each other, both silently seeking comfort in the inky black that has stolen their sight. No. More. Touching.

My shadows strike from all directions. They drag the prince away from my raven, pulling him deeper into the thorny nest of shrubbery filling the garden.

A thrill of elation jolts through me when he cries out in pain.

The darkness mimics the wind, pressing against him, blowing him back, pinning him to the bushes.

With the prince taken care of, I shift my attention to my prize. Lenore stumbles around in the dark, arms outstretched. I slither behind her, using my shadows to corral her farther from the prince and ever closer to where I stand. The back of her head smacks into my chest.

Her voice is filled with panic. “Cassius?”

A growl tears out of me at the sound of his name on her lips.

Lenore’s entire body tenses, no doubt realizing that the thing standing behind her is no mortal prince.

The warmth of her body rushes into me, fanning the spark I keep so quietly dimmed in my ribs.

Her chest stills as she sucks in a breath and holds it.

I lean down, lowering my mouth to the shell of her ear.

“Queen of Bones.” Reaching my hand around, I gently collar her neck.

She swallows, still unbreathing. Even through the lacy fabric I can feel the subtle tightening of her throat beneath my palm.

It sends blood rushing to my cock. Can she feel the hardening flesh pressing into her spine?

The thought sends a tingle of excitement dancing through me. “Breathe.”

A new thrill skates across my skin as she follows my command. Her chest falls as she exhales, then sucks several rapids breaths in. My gaze flicks to where the prince is fighting through the darkness, forcing his way back to where we stand.

“Good girl,” I purr, keeping my voice low enough so that only she can hear me. "You belong to me, little raven. Which means no more touching.”

She swallows again. My palm instinctively tightens.

“Who are you?” Her whisper matches my own.

That sultry, smoky voice has my head spinning.

I enjoy the boldness she possesses. Most humans I’ve encountered would be shivering and soiling themselves in my presence.

It pleases me to find her still able to speak amidst my shadowy display of power.

Especially considering most mortals are afraid of the dark.

“Who are you?” she asks again.

She wants to know who I am ?

I stroke my fingers across her throat, mimicking the motions of the prince’s hand along her waist. She sucks in a startled breath. That damned prince. He sours my mood once more. He’s fighting valiantly, closing the distance between us, swatting away my shadows as best he can.

Now is not the time for information. I’ll tell her everything, soon. I only need one piece of knowledge to stick with her following this encounter.

“The next time he puts his hands around your waist, he’ll find mine around his throat.

” I allow my teeth to graze the shell of her ear, eliciting a shudder.

Then, I vanish from sight, taking my army of shadows with me.

In seconds, the grey winter day has returned.

The only sign of my visit is the patch of blackened earth from where I once stood.

Lenore spins, eyes darting around the garden.

Her fingers rise to skim across her ear, then land lightly atop her lace collar.

The ghost of my touch must linger. I ache to have my fingers buried in her skin, no clothing, no barriers.

I wish to drain the warmth from her flesh and suck the soul from her body.

All while she moans so loudly it can be heard in my domain below.

What would happen if I were to use my hands, these wielders of death, to stain her soul? Would she perish in the grasp of Death himself? Would there be consequences for reaping a soul out of turn? Of course there would be. Am I willing to risk losing her to have her? My lips press in a tight line.

Her cheeks are flushed, mouth still parted, aquamarine eyes heavy with some unreadable emotion.

“Princess, are you hurt?” The prince breeches the gap between them. Lenore turns toward the sound of his voice. He holds out a hand to her.

Lenore stares at the offered hand, glances over her shoulder, and then backs up a step. “I’m not hurt.”

A raven caws beside me. I’m needed back home, no doubt. The amulet ’round my neck is pulsing with heat. How long have I been ignoring its signals? The raven caws again. Just a few moments longer .

“What was that?” The prince looks more shaken than Lenore.

Hyper-focused, training every muscle to remain perfectly still, I wait.

Will she tell him the truth? Will she speak of me to this unworthy prince?

Lenore pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

For a moment, I imagine my own lip tugged between those teeth.

Envisioning the feel of our mouths anchoring together each time I thrust into her.

I can almost taste the blood as she bites down on my lip, tethering herself to me while I fuck her hard enough to shake her soul loose from her corporeal form.

“Strange things tend to happen when you live this close to the dark forest.” Her answer satisfies me in the way knowing you share a secret always satisfies. We’re locked together, now. Our story growing amongst her lies. This surely won’t be her last mistruth now that the web has been spun.

Again, she peers behind her, seeking me out.

Three more ravens drop to the ground around me.

Their cawing grows more incessant. Lenore’s face still gazes my way.

I’ve masked my presence from sight, which means those strange blue eyes are landing on nothing more than the shadow of a ghost. I could stare at her angelic face for centuries and never tire of the soft lines and indescribably beautiful features.

She’s a lone rose, surrounded by thorns and bones, gleaming in the sunlight, too pure for this filthy, wretched world.

The amulet that rests on my breastbone grows hotter, sending a fiery ache through my chest. The dead demand more attention than the living.

A raven, Mytha, swoops before me, hovering in front of my face and obscuring my view of Lenore.

If my right-hand has come up to persuade me to return home, then I must have been gone longer than I realized.

Craning my neck, I peer around Mytha’s form in time to see Lenore wandering back inside with the prince at a safe distance beside her. My amulet heats, the intensity making me shake. “Fine,” I concede to a squawking Mytha.

My shadowy cape flows behind me as I turn on my heel, heading away from the castle.

A black pit appears in the ground several feet before me.

My reprieve from death is over. It’s time to return home.

I dive headfirst into the abyss, allowing the void to swallow me whole.

Pure night envelops me as I plunge, dropping through the darkness until I break through the starry, soul-filled skyline of the Underworld.

I can see my entire kingdom from this height.

Smoke rises from the hottest parts of my land. Blue flame licks along the cracks in the earth, illuminating the barren soil around them. Small patches of silver glint across the landscapes, gardens of light, sanctuary for those souls worthy of eternal peace.

Splitting the land is the tumultuous seam of the river. It churns, violent and glistening. The damned fill those waters, always fighting to break free from their eternal hell.

I plummet, farther and farther, eyes to the ashen ground below.

The water level has fallen dangerously low.

Twisted limbs of souls stained with atrocities too terrible to speak of claw at the exposed rocky banks.

I was gone for too long. A particularly nasty soul has reached high enough to hook his clawed fingertips into the topsoil on the lip of the river’s edge. This will not do .

My wings snap open, righting my body and slowing my descent before I can slam into the rocky ground.

I glide mere inches above the top of the water, spewing shadows in every direction.

They lash out, lassoing any who have climbed too high, slamming them back into the murky depths of their prison.

Many have risen. They wail as I pass above, crying out to their unfeeling god.