Page 24

Chapter

Twenty-Four

I sense him the moment I step into my room.

Thorne doesn’t acknowledge me as I enter. Instead, he lies on my bed, his hands tucked under his head as he leans against the headboard. His position is casual, but the tension in his body betrays his anger.

“So, you’re going to be a queen?” he asks, his voice low.

My jaw tightens. “Apparently.”

“I wonder if your king will still refer to you as his pet after you become his wife?”

I shrug off his words, pretending they don’t sting.

“I would think you’d be too busy running your own kingdom to have time for such frivolous thoughts,” I say as I move toward the vanity. “Perhaps that’s why the Heir of Life was hinting at trouble in your court? I thought Death was the great equalizer, but I suppose dissenting voices must be heard everywhere?”

“What a quick tongue you have, pet .”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, turning to face him.

“I thought you liked it.” He shoots off the bed, standing before me in an instant. “You don’t tell Baylor not to call you that.”

He’s close enough that I have to lift my chin to meet his gaze.

“He is my king and my betrothed.” My stomach turns at the thought. “You are not.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw. “I wouldn’t want to be either.”

I bark out a laugh. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

His eyes blaze brighter than the inferno he created above our heads earlier. “You are nothing to me.”

I step forward into his space, crowding him despite the danger. He tries to move back, but I follow him. Our chests are brushing, yet our skin doesn’t connect anywhere. His breathing is heavy as his gaze falls to my lips and shivers of anticipation dance through me.

Lifting a single finger, I drag it up the long sleeve of his shirt from wrist to shoulder, and his entire body shudders under my touch.

“Tell me again how indifferent you are,” I say softly, keeping my gaze locked with his.

The last of his restraint snaps.

Thorne grabs my arms with his gloved hands and pushes me back into the wall. His body traps mine, making it abundantly clear just how much he wants me. Less than an inch separates our faces, his warm breath coasting over my cheek as he speaks.

“Is it true what they say about kings making poor lovers?”

“You tell me,” I reply. “Had any complaints recently?”

“Oh, my sweet, poisonous Ivy,” he whispers. My breath catches as the tip of his leather-clad finger trails over my collarbone, stopping just above my heavy breasts. “A king merely rules, but a God dominates.”

Something tickles my arms, and I glance down to find his shadows wrapping around my wrists, lifting them up and pinning them to the wall above my head. I bite my lip as his entire hand rests right over my heart. Does he feel it racing? We hold each other’s stares, unable to look away.

“I can feel the heat of your skin through the leather,” he whispers, his voice rough. “Do you always burn hotter than the fires of Life and Death?”

His other hand trembles as it caresses my face and gently traces my lips.

“Tell me, Angel, if I keep touching you, will you ignite in my arms?”

I pull against my restraints, desperate to touch him too. “I’d burn you alive.”

“Perhaps?” His hand on my chest moves lower, cupping my breast and making me moan aloud. His eyes darken at the sound. Shadows swirl in his irises, eating up any trace of blue and silver. “But I am a creature of fire, remember? I can take a little heat.”

“Can you?” A smile pulls at my lips as I hook my leg behind his back and roll my hips against him.

He groans through clenched teeth. “Fuck, Ivy.”

His hands fall to my waist, and my other leg wraps around him too. Thorne pushes me harder into the wall as we move against each other. I gasp as his hands slip under the slits of my gown to cup my ass, his fingers kneading the flesh there. My eyes are locked on his as something tightens deliciously in my core. He’s not even truly touching me, and already I’m about to explode.

“Ivy,” he whispers my name over and over.

I gasp. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Tell me again that I’m nothing to you,” I demand, my voice breathless. I’m so close now.

“You’re—” A loud knock cuts him off.

Thorne’s head swings to the door, his teeth bared in a snarl as his hips still trap mine. A low warning growl rises in his throat.

“Quiet,” I order, slapping his shoulder. He turns his dark gaze on me, eyes narrowed into slits as he shakes his head.

The knock comes again.

“Lady Iverson?” Huxley’s voice calls from the hallway.

I’m truly fond of the shy guard, but in this moment, I could kill him.

“My lady? Are you awake?”

I scream internally, knowing from experience that he won’t go away if I ignore him. “Yes?”

“My lady, are you alright?” Huxley asks. “You sound out of breath?”

Smugness pulls at the corners of Thorne’s mouth.

“Fuck you,” I whisper to him, making his eyes widen innocently.

“What was that, my lady?” the guard calls.

“Nothing! I’m just…” I search for a suitable excuse, my mind still hazy from Thorne’s close proximity. “Drunk?”

The smirk turns into a full-blown smile as the God tries to stop himself from laughing.

“That’s nice,” Huxley says lamely.

I roll my eyes, ready to murder the young guard.

“Was there a reason for your interruption?” I ask, my voice taking a shrill tone.

“Oh, right,” he says, as if he truly forgot why he knocked in the first place. “The king has requested you join him in his chamber tonight.”

Thorne goes rigid against me.

Bile rises in my throat at the thought of going to Baylor right now. All of the heat that had been building in me disappears at once, leaving nothing but ice behind. Pale eyes bore into mine, daring me to speak. His hands grip me tighter, but nowhere near painful. I’ve never felt more trapped by my circumstances than I do in this moment.

“I’ll be right out.” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.

Thorne goes cold as the mask slips over his face. He pulls my legs away from his hips, lowering them to the ground before stepping back. My arms fall limp at my sides as the shadows disappear from my wrists. Without saying another word to me, he turns and walks to the balcony, opening the doors and stepping out into the brisk night. A second later, the sound of wings flapping against the wind carries him away.

My hands shake as I adjust the fallen straps on my gown and smooth out the wrinkled silk. I try to focus on my breathing exercises, but it doesn’t help. I glance toward the door where Huxley waits on the other side to escort me to Baylor. Right now I should be brushing out my hair or touching up my face.

I should be conjuring my eidolon .

Rose.

Something cracks in my chest. A tiny fracture that splinters, piercing my heart. I should be calling forth Rose. But I’m not. I can’t.

Abomination.

Whore’s daughter.

Killer.

I know the names I’ve been called, most of them accurate. I don’t deny what I am. But right here, in this moment, I can’t be the person who sends Rose to him. I don’t want to look too closely at why giving her a name, that name , has changed things so much. I don’t want to acknowledge the connection it created in my mind because she’s not real.

But are you?

That hateful voice in the back of my mind rears its ugly head.

You are nothing but a deceiver. You lie, even to yourself. You’re just as fake as her.

But what I experienced tonight was real. The way Thorne touched me was the realest thing I’ve ever felt, despite the fact that he’s just as much of a liar as I am. Is that why we’re drawn to each other?

“Lady Iverson?” Huxley’s voice calls again.

I have no idea how long I’ve stood here trying to pull myself together. The only thing I know is, come what may, no part of me is stepping foot outside of this room tonight.

“I’m unwell,” I shout through the door. “The wine has made me sick.”

“Should I fetch a healer?” His voice fills with concern.

“No,” I say quickly. “I just need to sleep it off. Please send the king my apologies.”

“Alright, my lady.”

His footsteps fade as he disappears down the hallway. I try not to imagine the reaction he will receive when he relays my message. I’ve never once denied Baylor before. And doing so tonight, after his announcement and Thorne’s behavior, is extremely risky. But smoothing over his bruised ego is a problem for tomorrow.

I don’t glance at my reflection in the mirror as I quickly rinse my face. I’m not ready to acknowledge the changes I might see there. As I crawl into bed, the events of tonight hit me all at once. Bellamy. My father. Baylor. The Gods. Thorne.

As I close my eyes, only the latter remains. And when I drift away, it’s his touch I feel against my lips.