Page 28 of Shaedes of Power (Soul Magic #1)

BONUS CONTENT

EDMYN’S CHAPTER 19

I had seen the evil that was out there, and found it wanting.

Shit. I did not need lines from Draku’s overly-depressing diary tormenting my mind right now. What I needed was sleep—only that would undoubtedly elude me right alongside whatever was muting the effects of this toxic spell I’d spent a century concocting to use against my brother.

But what happens, Edmyn, if your plan fails?

Fuck me. It wouldn’t do to mull over Opal’s words either. That would do nothing but send a strange mixture of anxiety and exhilaration tearing through me. I felt like a man possessed. Only any memory of my Little Prism—any errant thought of her soft skin brushing mine, any memory of her curious eyes locking onto my face with interest, any vision of her strange iridescent shaede tucked sweetly into my bed — well, these were things I had begun to plead incessantly to the Balance never to exorcise from my mind.

I spat on the berries that I had tormented into a state of exquisite lethality and put the glamour back in place. She’d been right to doubt me. Of course she should never trust a word out of my mouth and should find zero solace in my assurances that I, in any way, could protect her from the blind hatred and limitless ambition of my brother. Just because I meant it and my intention was pure didn’t make it true. I spoke dark words and invited Death to a partnership on many an occasion. The monster I’d become was no where near the hero she deserved, but the selfish beast inside still devoured her trust like a sumptuous feast that I’d do anything to taste again. Her goodness was the closest I’d been to feeling sunshine on my face in one thousand years, and I was prepared to torture the only family I had left in this world to see that her light was never in danger of dimming.

Turning to head back up the winding path to the castle, I searched the sky for the moon. It was up there. Somewhere. Whatever ghost of my yellow shaede that still remained, stirred inside and continually messed with my internal rhythms. My eyes were forever forced to witness life with a gray haze—the only gloom available in the dark and dreary Shadowlands—but I was still somehow aware of the passing of time. I could sense the Earth’s constant rotation. I could feel the pull of one minute to the next and the relentless cycle of light giving way to the dark. After which, I could feel the Night breaking away to allow the day to shine once more, even if I couldn’t see it.

Ciaran didn’t see it—the bigger picture. The only world he would see was the one he created and now revolved around him . But he was actually quite small. He was no star. And long ago I wondered what exactly it would take to bring down his tiny universe.

I wasn’t that young when my parents died, but time had made a fool out of me. Was I ever anything more than I am now? Ciaran was my caretaker. He was the one who was supposed to instill in me the qualities I’d need to survive this life. In a court where young Naturals were to be seen and not heard unless their shaede developed, he was all that I had. Unfortunately, the only tools he seemed to possess were ones to build walls, not relationships. The only skills he wanted to impart to his little brother were ones rooted in bitterness and not-so-quiet hate. It was only until I found myself away from him on conversancy that I experienced anything different. And now those memories faded just as dark as the memories of our parents, and I wondered if my desire to rid our lands of his tyranny had less to do with a hope for peace throughout the Seam, and more to do with the hate and revenge that he had so adeptly instructed that I learn.

My sleeves billowed in a stagnant breeze that smelled like damp earth and dung. My most recent half-hearted attempts to assist Ciaran with wrangling the shadow beasts had earned me another soiled set of garments and the guarantee of a soak in a hot bath. My left sleeve was torn and my pants were ruined. There was little that could have soured my mood further in the wake of being forced to spend these last few days away from Opal with little to show for it, but ruining another pair of pants had turned me from sullen to sulky.

I was beyond redemption by the time I threw my tired limbs into the bath. I allowed the hot water to scald my senses clean from the self-loathing and the morbid reminiscing about my past. There was no room for any of it. Not when something so perfect and so fearless was currently inhabiting my living spaces. Not when her very existence fueled a sense of hope to thrum in my still heart. I had not been a man of faith for many centuries, but something about her magic mingled with mine in a way that was every bit unnatural as it was pre-ordained.

I nestled into the corner of the rough rectangular pool and stretched my arms wide. Resting my head against the cool edge of the stone floor, I closed my eyes and dreamed of her.

From the moment I first spotted her in the throne room of the Shaede Palace, it was as if my eyes had found their true purpose in life. If they were not meant to gaze on such beauty, if their truest function was not to memorize every expression that crossed her face and every curve of her body, then I didn’t need or want them. I drank her in, greedily. And when it became apparent that I had also attracted her attention—was there anything that could have stood between us? Her loyalty to her people, her bravery in the face of a tirade of horrors that Ciaran would attempt to shower down upon her—it was almost as if she welcomed it. Or perhaps… she felt as though she deserved it.

Her eyes had been sad long before Ciaran spoke his evil plans into existence. Something deep inside threatened her peace, something that had little to do with the war that was looming before her. And damn if I didn’t want to save her from it. Damn me harder for thinking I had the right to.

I sighed deeply and spread my legs beneath the steaming waters as my cock hardened despite myself. Damn me most because of what I wouldn’t do to make her truly mine.

Henrick had always been and always would be an easy target for my anger. Constantly inserting himself between me and my brother was dangerous; he was a favorite only because of how imbecilic his true nature was in blindly following any of Ciaran’s orders no matter their flavor. Inserting himself in between me and Opal would be a mistake on an atomic level. As in, if he or any other thought to touch her in a way she did not desire, I’d not hesitate to force him to dig himself his own grave with his own fucking teeth. Then I’d personally scorch the earth that entombed him daily, to assure that his putrid and vile remains stayed nothing but ash trying to meld itself back together, only to burn again.

Perhaps I had spent too much time ruminating on this. Perhaps not. It was easier to fuel an already passionate dislike than to focus on the ever-growing feeling that Opal meant so much more to me than she would ever know.

Seeing her in the throne room this evening, experiencing the concern that searched my face for answers I just didn’t have, aching to embrace or console in a way I just couldn’t comprehend…I did not recognize this feeling of tenderness that was growing inside me. It felt parasitic in nature yet held the promise of a euphoria if I would just give in. Ciaran may have had a certain degree of power over us all, but giving in to whatever fondness plagued me now seemed thoroughly unwise given that I had planned this overthrow for an unfathomable amount of time.

I submerged quickly, letting the acidic smell of lemons to saturate every inch of my aching body.

It wasn’t going to work. Somehow, no matter how carefully I had orchestrated every detail of my plan, no matter how much my limping faith whispered that my path was the righteous one, no matter how powerful my magic had become over the years, my brother now slept peacefully beside Amira, rejuvenating in mind, body and magic, and there was nothing I could do to slow down time. In mere hours, he would see that I defied him—or at the very least, he would seek to dispose of Opal for all that she didn’t bring to his table. Those berries would never see the light of day, and all my work will have been for nothing.

I’d have to fight him.

I’d have to spend an eternity fighting him. But as I reemerged from the water and ran a tense hand through my tangled hair, fatigue set in fast and hard, and I tried to imagine a world where I had enough energy and magic to battle him daily. To die and rise again just to keep his wickedness occupied, to absorb the full focus of his hate and fury. I would accept this life-sentence if it was what it took to keep Opal safe. And perhaps this was the life-sentence I deserved.

I pushed myself up and out of the bath using magic to dry my body and hair instantaneously, too tired to put on clothes or bother with a towel. I donned a satin black robe and tied it around my waste, leaving all my soiled clothes behind for servants who would find them in the morning.

Being lost in eternal night did make for some strange castle behavior, but my walk to my chambers was silent and undisturbed. Although dark lords and ladies were known to be social on and off throughout all hours of the day and night, I didn’t encounter a single dark faerie or human servant as my bare feet padded along the carpet that rolled a pathway to my bedroom door.

The door opened with a tiny creak that one would have thought was a lion’s roar with the way that Opal shot up in my bed. Surprise was clearly reflected on both our faces as I made my way into the warm, fire-lit room. Her hair and skin shimmered and played with every dancing shadow, picking up the hint of a myriad of colors that left me practically spellbound. Her friend, the purple Shaede, snored quietly beside her.

I resisted the urge to stare and stalked over to the chaise lounge, falling into the plush cushion and trying to stifle an involuntary sigh. Ciaran was not the only one whose body begged for rest. I could feel her watching me from the shadows, though now, at this distance, and with the fire waning, it was almost impossible to make out the features of her face.

“What are you still doing up?” I asked. Clearly the dream realm evaded her. Ciaran’s abrupt return had unnerved us all and I’m sure sleep felt more like a luxury than a necessity at this point.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her body shifted in the darkness. “Where have you been these past few days?”

A better man would have ignored the worry in her voice. I should have dissuaded her from feeling anything for a dark, murderous soul like mine. But instead, I did no such thing.

“Most of the time I was out in the Shadowlands, wandering around and being of no help to Ciaran. But the other part of the time I was busy tending to those damned berries. They are not ready. They need at least another day, maybe two.” Bitterness tore through me. I failed her and she deserved to know it.

“And Ciaran is ready to act now, isn’t he?” Of course her next cause for concern would fall on her people. She wasn’t even going to bother entertaining what this would mean for her own well-being. How the probability of her eminent death was as sure and solid as the wall of clouds that blocked the dark ones from morning light.

“Ciaran needed some time to recuperate both physically and magically after his prolonged struggles with the shadow beasts, but he is adamant about me walking in the sun tomorrow morning. Before breakfast, before anything else.” I labored hard to keep the fury of emotions out of my voice but soon failed that too. “I had always thought I would get a chance to slip him the berries before that happened, but there is no way of accomplishing that now. Not without setting off his hyper sense of paranoia, and then there will be no way of getting close to him. He is already certain someone is to blame for the shadow beast fiasco. That meeting with the dark lords earlier was less of a meeting and more of an interrogation tribunal.” I tore at the curls that hung heavy across my forehead like a weighty crown of a hundred broken promises. Then, remembering our heated exchange from the other day where she challenged my abilities and almost made me seduce her against my bedroom wall, I admitted the painful truth into the night like a dying man’s last prayer, “This is the first time I feel as if perhaps I am not an equal match for my brother. Fate favors him. That spell failed sooner than I anticipated. He will see tomorrow morning that I have defied him, and he will take up his cause against the Shaedes with betrayal sowing fresh rage in his heart, and I will not be able to stop him.”

I closed my eyes for lack of a better thing to do. I couldn’t touch her—that would be blasphemy. I couldn’t comfort her—I didn’t know how. I couldn’t apologize—no words existed that could articulate the sentiment. But I couldn’t lie to her either—she deserved so much more than that. She’d earned the truth. And now the coward in me shielded myself from what I could only imagine would be despair seeping into every feature of her lovely face.

Minutes of supreme silence passed between us. For the first time in centuries I prayed to the Balance for forgiveness. I prayed for Opal’s salvation, for the safety of her people, and for a path through this mess that my own flesh and blood had made. I prayed until I was certain I was sleeping, because only in my darkest and most delicious dreams would my Little Prism climb onto my lap and gaze down on me with a look that would strip any man down to nothing.

My hand, which would never be able to resist touching her when she was this near, clung to the back of her neck and drew her closer.

“What is this, Little Prism?” I asked. Was the ragged breath that managed to string together those five words my voice? I could barely hear it against the deafening pulse of her frantic heartbeat. A lifetime of perfectly manicured expressions and movements threatened to shatter in an instant. The feel of her warm body pressed against mine was enough to startle me into silence—and yet, the part of me that instinctually was driven toward the dangerous would not yield. “Do not start fires you cannot tame.”

“You once said that I belonged to you,” she whispered, emboldened by a courage I would forever be in awe of. “Prove it.”

A fucking lightning bolt jolted through me. If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up. And if it was real and somehow I managed to hold the entire world in my cursed hands, I was certain this woman could not truly know what she was starting and with whom.

I could break her. I could tarnish her spirit. If we did this, if I gave in to the feelings I’d been trying to ignore, I would be taking something from her that I could never give back, and it might break us both in the end.

But the way her legs spread for me, the way she perched herself directly over my groin and caused every hardened inch of me to twitch for her, and her expression locked on mine with an intensity that practically begged for me to give in. Perhaps just a taste of the pinkish shade of her lips, and I might be able to think straight once more.

I guided her mouth toward mine, savoring the way her breath ghosted my face. Even just being this close to her felt like some kind of gift. Why me? I silently cursed the Balance. Why would something so pure and fragile be put in my path, a path that could only lead to devastation?

Our lips met with a cataclysmic surge, crippling my defenses and destroying all my disparaging inner voices. The only thing I heard was her gasp at my touch. The only thing I felt was her fingers curling around my hair. The only thing I saw when I roved my hands down her back and then upward to caress her perfect breasts through her thin nightgown was desire. Two gray eyes that changed in the light, fluttering their lashes in ecstasy, and promising to give me the world.

I didn’t deserve it.

“Do you know what you are doing?” I asked with great restraint. She shifted slightly and my rigid cock threatened release at the mere thought of kissing her again. “You do not need to be a hero. I will do my best to protect you, no matter the cost.” Weak promises. She was about to give me the ability to walk in the daylight, and I was about to destroy her.

However, something resolute set upon on her face. I noticed that it had been a long time since I’d seen the sadness in her eyes. It had long since been replaced with something harder, something darker, and although it pained me to admit that the Shadowlands had changed her, I quite adored her for it .

“I’m no hero, Edmyn. I’m just yours. I’ve come to know you, and now I can’t imagine a world without you.”

My body reacted violently to her words, and I almost couldn’t take it anymore. The Balance’s own special steward of powerful forgotten magic, straddling my hips, and speaking words into existence that I had never heard before, directed at me. I ran a hand through her hair as if a part of me still couldn’t believe this was real. I just needed to touch her. There was so much more to learn about this woman and so many more reasons why none of this made sense. Cursed creatures like me didn’t belong in the same realm as an angel like her—let alone the same room. And yet, all the magic in the room felt tangible all of a sudden. As if it were nothing but raw possibility in the air. As if it were second chances and hopes and dreams somehow solidified. As if all we had to do was give in and delight in the magic, then everything we touched could be ours.

No. Was I becoming drunk on her magic? I forced the words out of my mouth despite my yearning to pleasure this woman within an inch of what she could stand. “You think you know me now, but you didn’t know me then. And then was a very, very long time ago.”

All I could do was try to scare her away, to try to save her from her own misguided cravings. But the way her lips parted in a perfect O shape paired with her wetness slickening my robe and causing my cock to ache—I feared my efforts might be in vain.

I brushed my sharpest nail across her bottom lip and felt her grow wetter still. It struck me then, that although she had been the one to start this, I still had the opportunity to seduce her properly. I might not be the hero she deserved, but if this was actually happening and she saw the real me and did not shrink away, I might be able to at least become the monster she desired.

“There is more to the darkness than cursed magic and shadow beasts.” I breathed, taking my finger from her lip and running it along my own. I purposefully nicked the tip on one of my jagged fangs, causing the scent of my blood to fill the room. There was no turning back now. I painted her jawline with my blood and smeared it down the side of her neck in a rough stroke before leaning in to lick it. My tongue tasted fire, my blood its own special brand of poison, causing my body to tremor in pain but also in a heightened arousal. “The dark ones have managed to find the thinnest line between pleasure and pain. But I don’t want to scare you, Little Prism. You, whom I have already silently pledged a thousand of my lifetimes to protect. You, who deserve so much more than making love to a shadow.”

That might have been too much truth. I was a phantom heartbeat away from saying ‘I love you,’ and that might have scared her away more than my blood play ever could.

How absurd. It was folly for me to think the words, let alone be on the verge of saying them aloud. More foolish still, to entertain the hope of reciprocation.

But then she did the unthinkable. I watched with ravenous eyes as she clasped my finger in her delicate hand and slowly brought the tip to her lips. I involuntarily shuddered with pleasure as she licked the blood off the tip in one smooth glide of her tongue. I reveled in the beauty of it all. The ecstasy of it all. And I allowed myself one selfish moment to take in the steely look of determination on her face as my blood made its scorching pass down her pretty little throat. What I wouldn’t do to shove more of me down that throat and give her a real taste of all I had to offer.

But ingesting my cursed blood was an egregious act, one that could damn her to my same fate had someone ended her life in that moment. With barely more than a drop in her system, I waved its lingering effects away with my magic, soothing the burn and absolutely mystified by this opalescent creature I had somehow managed to ensnare. She gifted too much, and my heart—though calcified over years due to neglect and abuse—turned fragile once more and threatened to break. I was not worthy of this sacrifice. My blood on her lips was an offering I couldn’t accept. So I tightened the grip I kept firmly on the back of her neck, fisting some of that gorgeous hair, and yanked—hard. She gasped, a perfect reaction that sent a wave of enthrallment straight to my suffering cock.

“I am not afraid of you,” she said. And I believed her. I don’t know if I believed her only because I wanted to, or because the way she continued to press herself against me despite the oppressive hold I had on her suggested anything but fear.

Could this be real?

I let go only to gaze upon the reality before me. Fuck if this didn’t turn out to be some sort of trick played on us by the Balance—but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t care. I broke out in a smile, shaking my head a little in awe of all she had endured. Bewildered by all that she stood to lose and yet—she was choosing me. She was choosing us. And suddenly everything that seemed wrong about this situation didn’t matter. Opal gazed upon my face in what was left of the candlelight, and she saw me. Not the piteous cursed monster of the Night Court and not Ciaran’s quiet shadow—just me .

I waved the curtains closed that hung heavy around my dressing area with a flick of my wrist and a quick and somewhat anxious surge of magic. There was just enough light left to make out her bemused expression; she was not backing down.

“What about Glory?” she asked.

I smiled wide and answered, “Sleep spell.” And then was promptly rewarded by the vision of her drawing her nightdress up over her head and casting it to the ground.

There was little restraint left in me once she revealed the perfection of her naked body to me and began untying my robe. She ran her hands across my bare chest, clearly savoring the feel of my skin beneath her fingers, and as I watched her with adoration, I almost forgot that it was I who wanted to be doing the seducing.

A fair fight didn’t exist in the Shadowlands and without her magic, she was easy prey. I quickly outmaneuvered her with my magic, exchanging places with her in one aggressive motion. She now lay with her back flat on the cushion. I knelt on the other end, kneeing her legs apart and wedging myself closer to her. The look of surprise on her face was all the encouragement I needed. I disrobed and allowed her hungry eyes to feast on all that was to be her undoing.

Stars, I could have gazed at her watching me for an eternity. Her expression filled me with value where only moments before there was none. And as the beginnings of a spell danced around us—an ancient and mischievous magic that knew no limits—I wondered if the feeling coursing through me, wanting to claim this woman as my own, was what it felt like to be alive.

I leaned forward, steadying myself against the chaise as I feathered her body with kisses. Tasting her was everything I had always hoped it would be, but it was clear almost immediately that my mouth roving over hers, dragging down the side of her neck and burying into her chest, would never be enough. The erratic sounds of her breathing paired with her gentle moans of pleasure would never be enough. I wanted to make her scream my name.

I forced her wrists together and spelled them to remain high above her head. I wanted uninhibited access to every inch of her skin that was calling me to worship. If her magic had ever been trapped inside a cage, it had long since been liberated, if only for the sole purpose to bring me to my knees. And I was more than willing to comply.

I had seen the way she eyed my hands on more than one occasion. There was nothing I could do to appease their claw-like appearance even if I had wanted to—and I didn’t want to. A certain amount of menace is needed to keep these other dark fae in line, and I had had to wield these hands against others on more than one occasion. But now, as she trembled before me for all the right reasons, I relished the opportunity to show her just how versatile these hands could be. I traced the line of her collarbone and moved southward, drawing a slow, tantalizing path down her chest all the way to her navel. I played with the idea of going farther but didn’t want this to be over too soon. We certainly didn’t have forever, but I wanted to make it feel like we did. And the way her body reacted to every inch my nails came into contact with, did nothing but make my need greater and my desire to prolong this moment that much more intense.

Opal, however, was becoming frustrated in the most delightful way. Watching her struggle against my gentle spell work brought me too much enjoyment, and desire boiled like magma in my veins. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around my waist, somehow freeing her hands and grasping for me to close the rest of the distance between us .

I smiled at my greedy little Shaede, knowing full well that she could handle so much more. “You are not ready yet, Little Prism. Do not invite a devil in without getting something in return.”

Gently unhooking her limbs from around me, I watched her make a move as though she was about to sit up, but my unholy work had only just begun. My magic slammed her back against the cushion, and I maneuvered myself to the floor, wrenching her body closer to me by a not-so-gentle grip on her hips. She submitted so beautifully, and it was all I ever wanted—to forge the type of bond that no other earthly force could touch. She was mine, and I was going to make her believe it, just as she had ordained it.

I started with kisses that ran up her thigh line and nuzzled against delicate parts of her flesh that I wanted to believe now belonged solely to me. I made note of two delicately designed tattoos positioned so high on her inner leg that it felt like finding secret treasure. I wondered what else I would discover as I strove to explore all of her, but every inch I travelled felt like I was getting closer and closer to home.

I spread her legs further still and enthusiastically set to finish what I started. Massaging her legs and pinning her wide, I worked her most intimate places with a tongue that was more weapon than tool. Stroking and adoring in a possessive way that did nothing but augment the tension in both our bodies. Several times she whispered my name while her body quaked with delayed pleasure and her heavy pants said all the things her mouth could not. I took her to the edge of all that she craved from me, only to pause, and then start again. Torture seemed too harsh a word and her release was imminent, but I received too much personal satisfaction in watching her writhe for me. So I fucked her with my mouth until she begged.

“I can’t,” she said. Her hands flew to my head and fought for some semblance of control. “Please.”

And there it was.

Hearing her whimper her breathy plea into the night, I decided, would forever be my favorite hymn. And I was all too willing to give in. I employed magic to reposition her in a way that made it easier to enjoy her. With effort, I tried to suppress my eagerness, delivering the slightest of smiles as I came to kneel before her on the bench of the chaise. I reached for one of her hands and pressed her palm against my rigid cock.

“Is this what you want?” I threatened to spasm by her touch alone.

“Yes,” she answered. And I closed my eyes for a moment to revel at the thought of being chosen. To appreciate this generous act and the courage it took for both of us to ignore all that would threaten anything we’d build and anyone that would stand in our way. Fuck them. I would bind myself to Opal’s light for any price it cost me, for this feeling she inspired inside me was worth trading a thousand lifetimes for a thousand deaths.

I used the last bit of self-control I had left to enter her slowly. Her face was captivatingly serene as I watched her take every inch of me with bated breath. I gripped the arm of the chaise for leverage and ignored the threat of intense and heavy magic swirling around us as I thrust into her as deep as her hips would allow. The sensation of us together, like this, brought an awareness of vibrancy to everything in the room. It might have been all candlelight and darkness and shadows, but even the hues of the fire balancing on a wick seemed amplified—vivid. Bright.

I entered her again and again, rewarded by the terror her nails caused all over my back. It was only fair that she tore me apart for all the sweet cruelty I’d delved out in turn. Her growing wetness urged me on, along with the way she gripped my forearms like she was trying to possess me. Her own hips started rolling in a way that told me she was close, and thank the stars she was, because I was about to fall over the edge myself. I heard my sharp breaths echo hers and became very aware of every muscle in my body screaming its fatigue. But I could not stop—would not stop—until I felt my Little Prism shatter with me inside her.

My name became an invocation. Edmyn. Edmyn. Like some kind of sacred rite. And then I felt her spasm around me, a quiet implosion that brought me with her in the most powerful way. It was as if my pleasure was tied to hers; she yanked it from me with brutal and beautiful force. Her arms wrapped around my core and held me tightly while the ground shook and the gloomy haze was lifted from my eyes. When I all but collapsed on her chest with my eyes closed, still nestled between her legs, somehow I knew I had been refined.

Something inside had shifted, and something broken had been mended.

Her fingers twirling bits of my hair brought me back to the moment, and I opened my eyes to see a beautiful halo of light encircling our bodies, a magical energy connecting us through a bond so powerful that it could actually be seen with the naked eye.

“How do you feel, my prince?” she asked. The happiness in her voice warmed ever part of me.

Words failed me. Magic moved me. Love changed me.

I forced my battered body to comply as I moved to press my palm against hers. When we touched, the halos kissed and became one, and as I pulled away, although the magic faded, I felt the bond remain.

“I feel as if it is I who now belongs to you.”