Page 55

Shadows erupted from my hand, twisting and writhing as smoke and vengeance met flesh. They coiled around his leg like a living tether of rage, choking the flame from him inch by inch.

“What are you doing?” he spat, trying to shake free.

I met his eyes, blood on my teeth and defiance in every broken breath. “Proving a point. You feel that? That’s our power. Our blood.”

He roared and lifted his hand for one final strike, but a second blast of fire collided with his first. The powers clashed midair, a burst of heat and light exploding between us.

Hadrian stepped forward, arm still raised, his voice like tempered steel. “Enough. The duel is over. You’ve both taken it too far.”

Caius staggered upright, brushing soot from his shoulder. “I won that battle. Everyone saw it.”

But Archer was already beside me. His jaw was tight, and when he spoke, his voice was raw with fury. “You could have been killed. He meant to kill you.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, even as my limbs trembled and fire clawed through every nerve ending. I didn’t even believe that lie.

“You’re not.” He cupped my jaw, helping me up. “You’re bleeding.”

“I had him,” I whispered. But the words tasted hollow, even to me .

“You nearly passed out.”

I leaned into him. “Caius is stronger. Why?”

“Because he’s six years older,” Archer said, thumb brushing the torn edge of my dress like he didn’t realize he was doing it. “He’s trained, and he’s mastered his quell.”

Across the courtyard, Caius lifted his arms toward the crowd. “Anyone else care to lose?”

Archer’s gaze darkened. “I’ve never seen a Serpent interrupt a duel before. That was weird.”

“I want to fight him again,” I hissed. “I need to win.”

“No,” Archer said, not waiting for me to argue. He stepped forward and swept me into his arms, right there in front of a dozen Serpents.

“Archer,” I hissed under my breath. “You’re making it very clear there’s something between us.”

“And when I carry you into a single hostel bed, it’ll be even clearer.”

“Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“Not when you show up dressed like chaos,” he murmured, his grip tightening around me, “and bleeding in my arms.”

I tried to sit up, but he wouldn’t let me. “I can portal us tonight—”

“No,” he cut in, carrying me across Wrathi’s courtyard. “We’ll stay at a Serpent hostel. That fight drained you.”

“And yet here I am,” I said, a faint smirk tugging at my lips, “still radiant in blood and lace. Honestly, I could go again.”

He huffed a laugh, brushing my hair gently from my face. “You’re impossible.”

He carried me past lilac-drenched lampposts and down winding cobblestone paths, the air thick with the scent of salt and the distant roar of the ocean. I rested against him, cradled in his arms—the safest place I’d been in a long time.

“Sleep, Severyn,” he whispered. “Let the waves carry you. ”

I didn’t argue. I was just... grateful. Grateful to be here, to be held, pressed close enough to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.

A cold breeze slipped through the torn edges of my gown as he stepped into the cabin.

The room was small, the kind meant for survival, not comfort.

A narrow bed pressed against the far wall, a shower stall tucked in the corner.

He didn’t speak. He simply turned on the tap, steam beginning to rise, his other arm still wrapped around me like letting go might undo everything that held me together.

He eased the gown over my head, and the air stung as it kissed every bruise, every raw cut. When he guided me beneath the stream of warm water, my skin pulsed with pain, tender and sharp all at once.

Then his hands found me again, slow, steady, reverent. He dipped a cloth into the water and began to clean the blood from my ribs, careful not to press too hard.

I closed my eyes and let myself feel it all. The ache. The heat. The quiet safety of being seen and still held.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered.

His voice came soft, barely above the hum of water against stone. “I want to. Seeing you in pain... it kills me. I can’t protect you like I used to.”

“I’ll be your desire, Archer.”

He froze.

His eyes slipped shut, and for a long moment he didn’t speak. When he did, it was with a rawness that struck deeper than any wound.

“I don’t want to desire you,” he said, finally meeting my gaze. “I want you.”

I leaned back against the stone wall, my breath caught somewhere between surrender and need. My thighs parted, an unspoken invitation in every trembling line of my body .

“Then want me,” I whispered. “Just once more.”

He lifted me gently from the shower and laid me on the bed with careful hands, avoiding the dark bruises blooming along my ribs. His fingers traced the curves of my hips, his lips following in their wake. I bit down against a gasp, the ache already blooming.

“Archer, I need you. I need more.”

He lifted my knees, easing my thighs apart, and stilled as he looked at me. His voice was low, almost a question. “This might feel different without the shadows.”

“I don’t care,” I whispered, meeting his gaze. “I only want you.”

He was slow. He slipped two fingers between my folds, then leaned back as he tasted me, sucking each finger clean. “Oh, Severyn. If only you weren’t in pain.”

“Then pretend I’m not in pain.”

His mouth answered for him, moving over me, slow and steady, every touch deliberate, every kiss a promise as he savoured each breast and hardened nipple. His fingers went back to thrusting, slowly before that ache rose deep and the walls of my core tightened and convulsed around his index finger.

I reached for his belt and pulled his pants past his thighs. Then my lips were on his chest, lowering, licking my way down the hard dips and grooves of his stomach until I found his cock and placed both hands around it.

“This night is supposed to be about you,” he said softly, but the strain in his cock beneath my grasp told me everything. He wanted this, just as much as I did.

I took him into my mouth, slowly, my tongue tracing along his length as I eased lower. Within moments, he was leaning back on his hands, a low groan slipping past his lips.

“You’re going to make me come if you keep that up,” he murmured .

“And that’s a bad thing?” I breathed.

“Yes,” he murmured, voice low with restraint. “Because I want to be inside you when I do.”

I fell back on the narrow cot, thighs parting instinctively as Archer moved over me.

His hand came to rest lightly on my neck, his other guiding himself between my legs.

He pushed forward, slow and deliberate, until the first few inches filled me, and I had to bite back a groan.

It had been weeks since I’d felt this full, this claimed.

With two deep thrusts, he was buried. His gaze met mine, and in it I saw no hesitation, only pure, primal need.

He lifted my face and kissed me, stealing what breath I had left. A gasp caught in my throat as pain and pleasure blurred together, tipping me toward something deeper, something raw.

“Archer,” I whispered.

He moved with me, steady and sure, every thrust matching my rhythm. Then he lifted me onto his thighs. “Ride it out,” he said, voice gravel-thick. “You feel so damn good.”

Each stroke sent my thoughts spinning, until my legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord. He caught me easily, lifting me flush against his chest.

“I can’t hold it,” I gasped.

“Then don’t,” he whispered against my neck. “Give me everything.”

He shifted, just enough to press his fingers against my clit, circling with the perfect pressure, and that was all it took. I shattered against him, body arching, breath broken, everything unraveling into light and ash.

I clung to him as the wave took me, burying my face in the crook of his neck while we came undone together.

When it was over, he held me close, our breathing slowly syncing, bodies pressed into the hush that followed. I sagged against him, limp and trembling, as he eased me back onto the cot.

He lay beside me, pulling me close until my head rested on his chest. His fingers brushed the damp strands from my forehead, slow and gentle, as if he didn’t want to break whatever fragile peace had found its way between us.

Today may have been one of the worst days of my life, but Archer was still my light.