Page 26

S hadows spill from me the moment I turn away from Reign. Normally, they obey my command, but the rage boiling inside me makes controlling them nearly impossible.

Losing control was never a problem—until Reign came into my miserable life.

Who the hells thinks they can touch her? Her not telling me only adds kindling to the spark, completely igniting me in my rage. I had to bite the inside of my cheek, so I didn’t say anything rash before walking away. Seeing the mark on her swollen cheek instantly did something to me. This stupid organ in my chest feels something I am unfamiliar with along with a feeling I know too well: rage.

I march toward Kylo, who’s already staring at me, his face twisted in shock and apprehension. Each stomp over to him thuds against the ground with a fury I have never experienced before. My fists clench at my sides, ready to command my shadow magic. James immediately halts whatever he’s doing, his gaze locked on my shadows and the anger emanating from me. He hurries over, his face etched with concern.

“Luke, what is going on? What happened?” James asks, as he falls into step beside me.

Within a few long strides we make it to Kylo. “Woah, Luke. What is so dire we have the shadows out and ready to go full-on Dark Prince?”

“I want every single guard who might’ve encountered Reign since first light gathered in the courtyard. Now! Especially Vanna’s personal guards.” Kylo doesn’t hesitate. He jogs to the palace without question.

“What happened?” James’s face now has that fatherly concerned look plastered on it.

I send shadows toward Reign. They snake around her wrists and drag her to me. She is trying to twist them free, but it is no use. She walks over to us with a loud exaggerated huff. Elm trails close behind her.

“Are these necessary?” She holds up her wrist with my shadowy grip still around it.

“Very.” I retract them from her, but they continue swirling menacingly around us.

Within minutes, guards stream into the training yard—half of them Vanna’s, the other half mine. I know it has to be one of her guards. My guards wouldn’t dare do this. She has somehow twisted the guards that I have trained for her into sick, conniving fucks, that obey her every whim no matter how dark and depraved it is. “Line up in two rows, one on each side of me,” I order.

They do as they are told. They scramble into place. There must be at least eighty of them, if not more.

I clasp my hands behind me, stand up straight, and start assessing the guards while walking down the center between both rows of them. “Apparently, I have not trained you properly. It would appear one of you likes to beat on the contestants. I would like to know who that is.” My voice is as cold as the killing steel on my side.

The guards exchange uneasy glances. I continue to walk slowly down the line, pouring more shadows out. “Apparently you need a lesson on not touching what is mine. Fess up. It will be easier for everyone if you do,” I continue, my tone dripping with malice.

I turn toward Reign. “Well, Prisoner… is the guard that did that to your face here?” I gesture to the mark on her face, barely able to contain the searing anger rolling off of me. “Who was it?”

James starts to interject. “Prince Lukene, maybe you shou—” with a warning glare, I put a hand out to silence him.

“Reign?” I press, my voice tight with impatience.

“Prince Lukene, this is ridiculous. You do not have to do this!” Reign pleads, her voice strained.

My irritation flares hotter, my pulse pounding angrily in my ears. “Who was it, Reign? I won’t ask again.”

She stands there and just looks at me with those beautiful lavender eyes widened in disbelief. She will learn to listen to me. This will be a lesson for everyone. I hear her whisper to Elm, asking him if he really thinks I would hurt a guard over this.

“Oh Reckless…” I chuckle sinisterly. “You have no idea what I will do when my things are messed with—when you are messed with.”

I immediately send four shadows out, two on either side of me and spear four different guards in their chests, ripping out their hearts, killing them instantly. The sound of their bodies dropping to the ground thuds loudly, followed by the tinier thuds of their still beating hearts. The force of ripping their hearts out sends blood splattering everywhere.

“I asked who , Reign?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving hers.

“I…” Her mouth falls open, and I notice her fingers trembling slightly. She’s still not answering fast enough for me, so I send out three shadows on either side of me, ripping out the hearts of six guards this time. Now their thuds fill the space around us. I keep their hearts suspended in my shadowy grasp. They are still beating but slowly coming to a stop, pumping what little life remains in them into the ground.

“Stop! Stop! You don’t have to do this!” She has a look of pure panic written all over her face.

“Who Reign? Last chance before I kill every single one of my guards.” I drop the six hearts and ready more shadows, poised to strike. She still doesn’t answer fast enough to sate my burning rage.

My shadows wrap tightly around the heads of ten guards. Before she can even answer, the shadows squeeze them. Their eyes bulge before popping out, just seconds before their skulls implode—sending blood, bone fragments, and brain matter all around us.

“Twenty down now, Reign. I will kill every single one of my fucking men—who was it!” My tendrils dart toward the remaining guards.

“Stop! Please! There—” Her trembling finger points to a corpse on the ground. I stride over and see that it is one of Vanna’s guards. Filthy bastard. “Which hand?” I made sure all the guards I killed today were Vanna’s personal guards. I don’t trust the vermin, and I knew it was one of them. They need to fear me enough to never even think of touching her. Hells, I don’t even want them looking in her direction.

“Wha… What?” Reign stammers, gasping for breath, her chest heaving rapidly.

“Which hand did he hurt you with?” Her eyes widen. “Don’t keep me waiting, Reign. Who knows what I will do.” I have one of my shadows caress her cheek, smearing blood down her face.

“H-h-his right. Right hand,” she gets out.

I pull my blade out and hack off his right hand in one furious whack. Blood splatters across my face and clothes. Once it is detached, I throw it down on the ground, easing the burning under my skin and in my chest just a bit.

“Was anyone with him?”

“The guard next to him, but he didn’t touch me.” Her entire body is shaking now. I glance at the dead guard beside him—also one of Vanna’s, of course.

“Did he say anything to you?” She tilts her head, confused by my question. “Reign! Did he say anything?”

“No! He just laughed.”

I crouch down and rip his bottom jaw open, breaking it. I reach in and cut out his tongue, dropping it to the ground.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you! Do not touch the contestants. No one, and I mean no one, touches Reign! Is that understood?” My voice sounds out like a thunderous boom.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guards respond in unison, terror etched on their faces.

“Clean this mess up. Burn the hand and tongue separately. They will go to one of the double hells without them.” I point to the dead guards. “Dismissed.” They scramble to obey, dragging the corpses away.

I grip Reign’s upper arm and march her into the palace. Still looking baffled, Reign doesn’t resist and lets me guide her.

My grip on Reign’s arm is iron strong as I drag her down the corridor. The stone walls echo with the sharp clicks of our footsteps. My fury is palpable. Reign’s face shows her growing confusion and frustration with each footstep.

Suddenly, she plants her feet, yanking against my grip. “Lukene, stop.” Her voice cuts through the tense silence. I stop abruptly, my breath coming in harsh bursts. For a moment, I still, thoughts running rampant. My muscles feel taut in my shoulder and back with an effort to dampen my ravenous rage.

When I finally turn to face her, the storm brewing within, anger, confusion, rage… All seem to mix with something else, something daunting… desire. Desire for her. Desire to protect her. Desire to be near her. Desire to be with her—to taste her. The feeling becomes overpowering. I drop her arm as she speaks.

“What in the hells was that?” she demands, her voice shaking yet still defiant. Reckless.

Without warning or thought, I step forward, cradling her face between my hands. For a heartbeat, time freezes, my gaze searching hers, a silent clash of will and want. No longer able to restrain myself, I crash my lips to hers—a violent claiming that speaks of desperation, need, and fury. Her hands rise, grasping my wrists.

Reign melts into me, her tongue meeting mine in a dangerous dance. Kissing her with raw intensity, she moans into my mouth, the sound wrapping around me, making me harden. My pulse races, matching the fevered rhythm of our mouths, each kiss a collision of passion and pent-up longing.

She tastes of forbidden honey from the heavens that the devil isn’t supposed to touch, and yet I can’t get enough of her sinful sweetness.

Consequences be damned. It’s addicting. She’s addicting. Like a moth drawn to the flame—I’m burning. The moment is laced with a storm of emotions, a moment of vulnerability shared between our two desperately scorned, yearning souls, aching for something we can’t quite name.

Reign breaks the kiss abruptly. Her breaths are ragged as she steps back, hands trembling. Without hesitation, she slaps me across the face—hard. The loud sound echoes through the hall. “Don’t ever kiss me without my permission again, Prince,” she demands breathlessly, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration, unspoken desire, and something I can’t place.

I bring my hand up against my cheek. A slow, seductively sinister smile spreads across my lips—one that Reign seems to track. “I won’t kiss you again unless you beg me, Prisoner. And trust me, you will.”

Reign scoffs, her flustered face is adorable. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, mirroring my own.

“Come. Let’s get to the healers.” I turn, continuing to walk. I savor the lingering sting in my cheek. The pain is a tantalizing reminder of Reign’s reckless ways and fiery spirit. I am delighted by the challenge she poses. Her defiance and trepidation ignite something primal within me. My fierce determination and desire are fully fueled by her actions—dangerous. She’s dangerous. The game we are playing is dangerous.

Once in Dola’s chamber, Reign sits at the large round table.

“Ah, Prince, what can I do for you?” Dola asks, as she enters.

“Reign needs her cheek healed,” I reply. Dola picks up a chalice and a small dagger, sitting in front of Reign.

“Wait, I thought you were a blood wielder?” Reign asks, confusion etched on her pretty face.

“I am,” Dola says, making a tiny cut in her palm and letting a few drops of blood fall into the chalice before adding various herbs. “Most blood wielders have a secondary power, and on rare occasions, a third. Our blood can mend wounds, but it’s not as potent as a true healer’s.”

Shock registers on Reign’s face. “I didn’t know that. What other powers do you have?”

Dola looks to me for permission, and I nod. “Blood wielders often don’t realize their true nature right away. Their other abilities surface first, and later, they discover they can wield blood when their seer abilities manifest. As for me, I can wield the mind.” Dola finishes preparing the concoction and hands it to Reign, who drinks it all in one go.

“Thank you, Dola. We must be going.” I lean down, and Dola kisses my cheek. Reign stands, and we leave, walking silently down the corridor that will stay burned in my memory.

We’re nearly at Reign’s bedchamber when a guard intercepts, informing me that I’m needed in the throne room. I leave Reign and head there swiftly, entering to find Vanna and my father. His gaze is cold, unyielding as always. Vanna’s expression remains unreadable.

“Lukene, we have an issue,” my father declares, his tone thick with anger and disappointment. “Several, actually.” His words echo, sharp and biting.

I know this is about my earlier behavior in the training yard, the slaughter of those guards.

“What in the double burning hells did you do in the training yard?” My father, or should I say my king, screams, face reddened. His words echo around the room, as spittle flies from his mouth.

“I did exactly what I was trained for, Father. What you expect me to do as Captain of the guards. You gave an order not to touch the contestants, and that order wasn’t followed. I won’t tolerate disrespect toward you. I made sure everyone knows not to go against your word. I highly doubt anyone will do it again anytime soon.”

“Your king,” Vanna snaps, as if to remind me he isn’t just my father, “said the contestants couldn’t hurt each other. He didn’t forbid a royal guard from disciplining a Drifter. But you knew that, didn’t you?” She cocks her head, leaning back on the throne that should have been mine.

“Ah, a simple misunderstanding of words.” I give a slight smile that is anything but friendly. She had something to do with this—I just know it. I narrow my eyes at her. “We have plenty of new recruits, so they will be replaced. And the other issue?”

“The orange wyvern,” Vanna states. “It needs to go.”

Roughly, I rake a hand through my hair. “Why now?”

“It is a disturbance. You should have killed it years ago.” Here we go again. I shift my weight to my other leg, annoyance flaring at the repetition.

“It killed one of the recruits and two of the wyverns we trained with soldiers,” Vanna continues, her voice clipped. “I just received the information from a messenger. It needs to go, Lukene. This will be the final trial: whichever contestant can ride it or kill it will win. They have one week, or all will be sent back to the Hollows.”

“Let me handle it. I can—” I start, but Vanna cuts me off.

“No. You have your orders from your king. Leave before nightfall,” Vanna snaps. “You are dismissed.”

Scoffing loudly, I give a slight bow to my king , before turning around, leaving the throne room.

The orange wyvern is Wrath’s offspring. I protected it years ago, and it grew into the most massive, vicious wyvern in Wemdrah—a huge pain in my ass. No one has managed to get close to it, except me, and only when Wrath is present.

I track down Kylo and James, instructing them to round up the contestants. The few of us who ride wyverns will fly them to Wemdrah. Our wyverns typically stay along the coast near Serpent’s Reach. I can only hope they’re nearby and not out hunting for food.

Waiting outside the carriage for the contestants, worry knots my stomach. The orange wyvern isn’t going to submit to anyone, and the chances of him being killed are slim. He’s a formidable creature. If Reign gets sent back to the Hollows, I can always get her out. I can do what I did for Dola’s granddaughter and hide her in the city. Just as my brain begins to spiral, James approaches.

As he comes closer, I notice the darkness under his eyes, his face lined with angst and worry. “Luke, what the fuck was that?”

I sigh loudly not wanting to get into this now. “What James? What do you want me to say?”

“Gods damn it, Luke.” He comes right in front of me. His tone is a fatherly, authoritative one. He sighs. “The prince fell for the prisoner.” His expression softens.

“No…no I didn’t. I was following orders. The king said no one is to tou—” James cuts me off, placing his hand firmly on my shoulder.

“You did, Luke. You did. What’s done is done. There’s no point hiding it, but mark my words, that woman will be your destruction—your downfall.”

“She will be my nothing, James. What is it you have against her anyway?” I notice Kylo exiting the palace with the contestants, heading toward us.

“I have nothing against her. I actually like her. But I have never seen you like… this . Never. And that worries me…”

“We’ll finish this conversation later. Reign and I are taking this carriage. Fill the others with the contestants and guards.” James nods as I climb into the carriage and wait for my little reckless prisoner.

James opens the carriage door and helps Reign in. Her eyes are full of questions when she sees me already inside. She settles onto the leather bench across from me as the door closes.

At first, the silence is uncomfortable. “Are we going to be the only ones in this carriage?” Reign breaks the quiet to ask. Her vibrant lavender eyes fail to meet mine as she looks out the window.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” I notice her cheek is no longer bruised.

She doesn’t respond, only shakes her head, still avoiding my gaze. The carriage begins to roll, and she continues staring out the window. I wonder if this is about the kiss, or maybe something else entirely.

Leaning my head back against the carriage wall, I clasp my hands in front of me, trying to get comfortable for the long journey. Her leg starts that nervous little bounce she does, and I can’t help but ask, “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” I watch as she rolls her bottom lip between her fingers.

She huffs and slams herself back against the seat. “Nothing, Prince. Nothing.” Her head tilts back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but her leg keeps bouncing. I can’t look away from her. I take in the long, thin column of her throat and sensual curve of her lips that I so desperately want to taste again. She notices me watching her and sits up. “Why are you looking at me like that, Lukene?”

I smile slightly. “Like what? Am I not allowed to look at something I find beautiful?”

“Is this about the kiss? Do you want to sleep with me? If that’s what this is about, don’t even think about it. My answer is no. Definitely no.” Her eyes widen, and it’s adorable.

I chuckle, the sound deep and loud. “I don’t think about it, but it’s obvious you do.” Her cheeks flush red, proving my point. “I find the cursed roses to be beautiful too, but you don’t see me trying to prick my dick with the thorns, do you?”

Grunting in irritation, she sits up straight. “Such a vulgar tongue you have, Prince.”

“Oh Reckless, you couldn’t even imagine in your wildest dreams what I can do with this tongue.” I give her a sinister one-sided smile. The blush on her cheeks deepens, traveling down her neck to her chest, disappearing under the cloak I had Sasha bring to her bedchambers. I inhale slowly, taking in the very scent that is her. It’s intoxicating and overwhelming. It only fuels my desire and need for this purple-headed prisoner, causing the strain in my pants to become almost unbearable.

She glances up, her gaze lingering on the hunger she finds on my face, then trails down the column of my throat to the obvious bulge in my pants. Her eyes linger for a second before she sits up straighter, clears her throat, and turns to the window.

“I’ve never seen a wyvern. I’m a bit nervous to ride one, and I’m anxious about the trial’s outcome.”

Changing the subject and admitting her vulnerability is new for her. I feel like there is something more. “During the trial, just follow your heart. It has led you to where you’re at today. Fearing the unknown is useless and a waste of energy. What is meant to be will be. Do what feels right to you in the moment. Never fear, never falter, never fumble. Oh, and Reign, don’t be reckless.”

I feel like my words were meant for both of us, and maybe a slight explanation of my behavior earlier. “Rest Reign. The trip to Wemdrah is draining.”

Leaning her head back once again, she closes her eyes. Within minutes, I hear her adorable little breaths of slumber. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her chest as if she’s cold. I remove my cloak and drape it over her. She has her hair down, a piece falling in her face. Instinctively, I lean up, push it off her face, and behind her ear. I’d like to say I did it for her comfort, but I did it selfishly.

I want to be able to see her face clearly. I so badly wish I had mind magic. I want to explore that lavender head of hers to know her thoughts, her secrets, her past, her wants, her desires. I wonder if she wants me as badly as I do her. Do I plague her every moment like she does mine? She is a torment, a beautiful chaos I don’t mind enduring. But more importantly, when I look at her…she calms the constant chaos in my mind.

The carriage goes around a bend. Her head comes off the wall and leans to the side. She looks uncomfortable. Well, that just won’t do. Moving from my bench to hers, I sit next to her. Leaning her head on my shoulder, I drape an arm over her. I do this purely for her comfort, not my own. Well, maybe for my own. She nuzzles against my shoulder, and this feels right. She feels right. I want to hold her fully, something I’ve never wanted with any other woman.

She is so beautiful, and I feel so undeserving of holding this beautifully, formidable little prisoner. She is so tiny compared to me. She is something to be treasured, to be protected. I want to get to know all the layers of Reign. I want to know what she likes and what she doesn’t. I want to know her thoughts. Most importantly, I want to know if it’s possible for the demon to get the goddess. Probably not.

Her head slides slightly off my shoulder, to the top of my chest. Instantly, I break out in a sweat. Then it dawns on me. What if she lays back on my chest when we ride the wyvern? Maybe it won’t be so bad because it would be the back of her head. I don’t think I can handle that, or can I? Maybe I’ll have her ride with James instead. The possessiveness in me doesn’t like the idea of that. She inches down more on my chest, so I gently lower her, so her head is in my lap instead. Gently, I glide lazy strokes with my hand up and down her back.

Snuggling into my lap, I realize I could get used to this. But I need to sleep, not think about her mouth or how she tastes. No, I can’t go there. I need to sleep. Gods, this woman will be the death of me. I shut my eyes and pray to Mother to make me fall asleep, so I don’t have to torture myself any longer.