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CHAPTER TWELVE

ROOK

What began as a sunny morning has descended into a gloomy evening.

Thunderclouds cover the sky, the dark purple color of bruises.

A storm is coming, more than just the weather.

Pyrah’s treasure glimmers on the battlefield, a small mountain of gold and jewels.

Frowning, I stand by the treasure with my hands locked behind my back.

One does not simply kill over a dozen of the queen’s knights without consequences.

“We shouldn’t linger here much longer,” I say.

“We know,” Lark snaps. She’s still on edge after the battle. We all are. “While you were both gone, I finished my spell.”

“Show me.”

Lark rolls up the sleeve of her dress. A tiny, emerald green serpent clings to her wrist, basking in the warmth of her skin. Something about it looks unreal; there’s a strange rippling around it like a mirage in the desert. The snake flicks out its tongue and tastes the air.

I frown. “A snake? Why?”

“Not just a snake. I summoned a verdant voidswallower,” she says, which explains its aura of unreality. “It has a magical stomach that’s much bigger on the inside, enough for all of this treasure.”

Pyrah stares with fascination at the snake. “Is it real?”

“In this realm? Not entirely.”

“Won’t it digest my treasure?”

Lark shakes her head. “Voidswallowers can’t digest anything in our realm beyond raw magic. It will spit out the treasure when I ask.”

I arch an eyebrow. My sister has undeniable talent as a sorceress, and she can’t resist an opportunity to demonstrate for an audience.

We feed all the treasure to the voidswallower. It gulps down every last gem and coin while retaining its small size. Impressive, I must admit.

I put my hand on Pyrah’s shoulder. “Let’s bring you home.”

She nods and leans into my touch. I linger a moment longer, craving the warmth of her skin against mine.

“Lark,” I say. “Are you all out of magic, or can you cast another portal?”

My sister rolls her eyes. “I can’t run out of magic.”

“I have seen you cast spells until you’re stumbling, drunk with fatigue.”

She shrugs. “I’m hungry, that’s all.”

Lark inherited demonic blood from our succubus mother, same as me, and she didn’t escape the hunger for lust. If she spends too much energy on her magic, she will be forced to feed.

How has she been satisfying her hunger? I’m afraid to ask.

Sparks fly from her fingers as Lark sketches a portal with her hands. Through the portal, rugged mountains bite at the sky like teeth. Unmistakable, this place is Pyrah’s home.

“Ready?” I ask.

In reply, Pyrah strides through the portal first, as if determined to prove her bravery. I follow in her footsteps, hoping she won’t suffer too much from the magic. On the other side, Pyrah bends over a boulder, her face pale. She tries to speak, then turns away and vomits.

Damn, the portal hit her hard in the stomach this time. I hold her hair away from her face as she expels whatever remains in her stomach.

Or she could be pregnant.

The thought darts through my mind, unbidden and unwanted. But it’s an impossible dream, and I have no choice but to let it slip away.

When she’s done, she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I rub her back. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.”

After Lark travels through the portal, it crackles and closes behind her. The woodsmoke smell of magic lingers in the air. Pyrah takes a deep breath and stands up straight, trying to shake off the dizziness.

“The portal?” Lark asks.

I give her a grim nod.

Pyrah leans into me, her body trembling.

I hook my arm around her waist and help her back home.

The journey isn’t far, but she stumbles a few times, her steps unsteady.

She’s still recovering from the effects of the portal.

I don’t blame her. Lark’s magic is powerful, and it’s not easy to travel through it unscathed.

“Wait out here,” I say. “Let me clean your cave first.”

“Rook, you don’t have to do that.”

“Those assholes pissed in your home. I won’t tolerate it.”

I hike down to the lake with no name, fill my canteen with water, and soak a coarse rag. Thank fuck I carry a bar of soap in my pack, made of good, strong pine tar. I scour her cave until only the spice of pines fills the air, then jog back to the lake to wash the sweat and dirt from myself.

Pyrah meets me at the lake. She cups water in her hands and rinses out her mouth.

“Feeling better?” I ask.

“Yes.” She shakes her head. “I have a strong stomach, I swear.”

She’s not pregnant. Don’t even mention it.

“I believe you,” I say, since it’s the safest thing to admit.

“Thanks. And thank you for cleaning my cave.”

Standing on her tiptoes, she kisses my cheek. Pride turns my spine to steel and makes me want to conquer the world for her.

Instead, I sweep her off her feet. She gasps and clings to my neck. “Rook!”

“Let me carry you, woman.”

“I can walk.”

“I know you can.”

Without waiting for her next protest, I hike higher on the zigzagging trail. Was the path always this fucking steep? My arms and thighs start aching, just a little, but I would be damned if I dropped my mate.

At last, I conquer the cliff.

“Didn’t even break a sweat,” I say with a straight face.

She laughs. “Liar.”

I put her back on her own two feet and can’t resist squeezing her ass. I was trying to be subtle, but she dances away from me and swats at my hand. The way she’s looking at me, I know she wants to retaliate tenfold.

Her stomach growls. “God, why am I so hungry?”

“You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m ravenous,” she murmurs. “I blame you for devouring me.”

Guilt sits like lead in my stomach, though I keep my face blank. I can’t deny that my demonic hunger has been leeching her energy. The kiss of an incubus offers nothing but physical pleasure in return. She deserves more from me, at the very least, sustenance.

We return to Pyrah’s cave, once more laden with treasure. She falls to her knees and cradles handfuls of gold with reverence. Her treasure means more to her than I expected. It’s valuable, certainly, though a dragon would never sell a single penny of their hoard.

I rest my fingers on the nape of her neck. “Pyrah.”

While she stays kneeling, I bend over her and capture her in a kiss. Not a devouring kiss but a claiming one to prove she’s mine. She clings to me by my horns, pulling me closer, using me to hold herself upright.

Lark clears her throat, reminding us she’s still here.

Pyrah’s cheeks turn pink. It’s fascinating to watch her blush, but I resist the temptation to kiss her again and embarrass her further.

Lark gazes outside. “It’s evening. Good time to hunt.”

Pyrah jumps to her feet, unable to disguise her excitement. “Let me take you hunting. I could find every deer trail in my territory with my eyes closed.”

Lark tilts her head, her face unreadable. “I’m uninterested in deer.”

“Have you been hunting for different prey?” I ask.

“Humans offer more of a challenge.”

“Lark.” Just that one word, her name, echoes with a quiet warning.

She smirks at me. “Don’t worry, they always say yes.”

I glower at my sister. “You better make damn sure they do. It’s never worth feeding without willing consent.”

“But you must admit, scaring them tastes that much sweeter.”

I hate to admit she’s right.

“What’s the nearest town?” Lark asks.

“Havenwold,” Pyrah answers. “There’s an inn there, called The Raven’s Head.” She grimaces. “There was an inn there, at least, before I turned into a dragon and smashed through the roof.”

Lark cocks an eyebrow.

“Long story,” I say. “The queen’s knights came looking for us.”

“The queen’s knights make good prey.” Lark licks her lips as if remembering the taste of their desire.

I stare at her, aghast. “Have you been fucking Dulcamara’s men?”

“And a few of her women.”

“ Lark .” Grimacing, I pronounce her name like profanity. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

She snorts. “I’m pretty sure you would say I’m not thinking.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Lark has always been reckless, but this is risky, even for her. One of these days, she’s going to get herself killed. “Why don’t you just fuck the God of Chaos while you’re at it?”

“I absolutely would. Have you seen the statues of him?”

Pyrah arches her eyebrows. “Not yet.”

“I’m sure you would appreciate him,” Lark says with a smirk.

These women are insane. I shake my head at them both. “This isn’t the time to be lusting after demon gods. Or the queen’s knights, for that matter. We just broke you out of the Forgotten Tower. Your face must be on wanted posters across half the kingdom.”

Lark rolls her eyes. “God, Rook, I know how to lurk in the shadows.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Don’t get thrown into another dungeon. And don’t disappear for too long.”

“I promise.”

“Meet us back at the cave by midnight.”

“Of course," she says, though she sounds irritated by me.

Lark combs her hair with her fingers and flicks it over her shoulder.

With a sweep of her arm, she slices the air open into a portal.

That means she’s been to Havenwold before.

Otherwise, she would need a map to know where the hell she’s going.

That’s one of the requirements of portal magic.

After she strides through, the portal crackles shut behind her.

“Are you worried about her?” Pyrah asks.

“My sister isn’t stupid. Usually.” I glower at her lingering footprints. “But fuck, the queen’s knights?”

“If Lark drains the life out of a knight or two, you won’t see me crying at any funerals.” Pyrah glances sideways at me with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Is the God of Chaos real?”

“Some believe he is.”

“Is he handsome?”

I don’t dignify that with a reply.

Pyrah grins. She must enjoy teasing me, particularly with my sister’s help.

“Let’s hunt,” I say.

“With pleasure.”

“Where are the best deer trails in your territory?”

“Follow me. There’s one not far away.”