Page 37 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)

She pressed a trembling palm against his chest, pushing him down to the rug. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, the silver moon haloing her face as she traced his collarbone, lightly fingering the shadow-mark there.

Saints above .

He stifled a groan.

This was one way to burn. Slow and aching and begging for more.

She lowered her head, until her lips hovered an inch from his own.

Ransom’s breath punched out of him, all traces of his composure gone in a blink. ‘Would you like to experiment on me, spitfire?’

She toyed with the first button of his shirt, deftly easing it open. ‘Would you be amenable?’

The word was ragged. ‘ Always .’

She nipped at her smile. He raised his thumb to trace it.

Saints help him, she licked the pad of his finger. Then moved south, her hair trailing along his chest as she opened another button. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone, lightly sucking the skin there.

He gasped as the shadow-mark tingled under her power. Dissolving with each brush of her lips, the darkness in him was no match for the power of her Lightfire. She was replacing his mark with a love bite, the realization alone making him harden. Another groan seeped through his teeth.

She stopped, looking up at him from beneath heavy lids. Her eyes were golden, her magic glowing faintly under her skin. So beautiful – and otherworldly – that for a moment, it was like staring into the sun. ‘Pain?’ she whispered.

‘ Pleasure ,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t stop.’

Smiling coyly, she lowered her head and licked the hollow of his collarbone, following another whorl. His skin prickled, the mark dissolving under her wet mouth. His back bowed, and he grabbed hold of her, sliding his hands into her hair.

‘Let me kiss you,’ he said, breathless.

Or I’ll die .

‘But your marks.’

‘Forget the marks.’

She clucked her tongue. ‘So impatient.’

‘Yes,’ he said, tugging her mouth to his.

The kiss was gasping, crushing. Five long months of forbidden dreams and reckless longing made them fall into each other with fevered abandon.

He sat up, reaching for her as she climbed into his lap, hooking her legs around his waist. He slid his hands through her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.

She rocked against him, his answering moans stifled in the heat of her mouth.

This was what he had been yearning for. A greater addiction than Shade.

A pure, punishing perfection. Heart-thundering salvation.

His spitfire in his arms, her soft gasps in his ear, her hands on his shadow-stained body, both of them holding onto each other so tightly, not even Saint Oriel herself could wrench them apart.

Maybe she could save him.

Maybe they could save each other.

Yes , he could so easily believe it now.

Yes , even just for a moment.

Yes, yes, yes .

Ransom was so lost in her that he didn’t hear the distant screams at first.

Seraphine snapped her head up, those golden eyes flaring. ‘Did you hear that?’

He stilled, panting hard. Closing his eyes, he laid his forehead against hers, and listened.

Somewhere below them, Val was screaming.

Theo was shouting.

And Caruso was… laughing.

Fuck .

Downstairs, there was a dead body on the ground. Bram. Although the soldier didn’t appear to have met his end via Shade, Ransom could tell by his bulging eyes that he was fairly dead. Still, Nadia was kneeling beside him, checking his pulse.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ fumed Seraphine. ‘Not again .’

Versini was pacing. ‘Let’s keep our voices down.’

The scene was bad enough already. They had been on the road for less than a week and had already managed to lose their entire royal accompaniment. Maybe Seraphine was right. Perhaps fate was moving them away from the king and his orders.

Val was by the bar, utterly stone-faced, with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Seraphine crossed the room to go to her.

Caruso was standing over the dead body, like a proud wolf. Claiming it.

The ground floor of the inn was otherwise deserted. The Bellflower was full of heavy sleepers. Or drunk ones. Even the innkeeper had made himself scarce.

Ransom gave a long-suffering sigh, looking between his Daggers. ‘Explain.’

Everyone looked to Caruso.

Caruso simply said, ‘I snapped his neck.’

‘Yes, I can see that.’ Ransom pinched the bridge of his nose.

Three minutes ago, he had had Seraphine in his arms. Now they were standing with yet another corpse between them, Bram’s bulging bloodshot eyes serving as an ever salient reminder that Ransom was a depraved Dagger with hundreds of kills notched on his own blackened soul.

And that was to say nothing of the bureaucratic headache this was going to cause.

‘ Why did you murder the king’s prized soldier?’ he clarified. ‘Do you not see how this is going to be a problem for us? We’re supposed to be allies of the Crown . We’ve already sent one soldier back without a damn ear and concussed another – and now this .’

‘This one is definitely the worst,’ said Versini completely unnecessarily. Either he was taking this unusually well, or he was steaming drunk. A quick glance at the empty bottle of whiskey on the table confirmed the latter.

Caruso remained unmoved. ‘He was being a prick. Now he’s a dead prick.’

Ransom glared at him.

‘It’s true,’ Val piped up. ‘Bram was a pig. When I went outside to get some fresh air, he followed me. Cornered me… I couldn’t get free of him.’ She inched closer, her haunted gaze on the dead man’s face. ‘When he pushed me to the ground, I screamed.’

‘And I killed him,’ said Caruso, looking pointedly at Val, like he was expecting her to say thank you .

She cut her eyes at him. ‘Ruthless motherfucker.’

There was something in it that almost felt like a thank you.

Nadia rolled to her feet. ‘Well, he’s definitely dead. The question is, what do we do with him?’

Time to salvage the situation. ‘Grab your things. Drink some water. Sober up,’ Ransom announced.

‘We’re leaving. Now. We’ll take a single carriage and continue north to Marvale.

’ He felt Seraphine bristle, all too aware that they were still at odds about what would happen once they got there. There wasn’t time to get into it here.

‘We’ll take turns sleeping on the road, find a new inn by morning.’ He turned on Caruso. ‘ You can help me with the body.’

‘All right,’ said Versini, coming around. ‘That’s a plan.’

Brushing past him, Seraphine said, ‘Fine. Let’s get going then.’

Ransom chewed on his frustration. A few moments ago, Seraphine was grinding in his lap.

Now he was cleaning up a damn murder scene.

Ordinarily, the best thing about being a Dagger was never having to clean up afterwards.

But a dead soldier spelled trouble for all of them.

Not that Bram was worth mourning. On that, even the Flames agreed.

For two warring factions, they worked together with remarkable efficiency. Nadia and Versini went to fetch the carriage, while Seraphine and Val volunteered to gather everyone’s things, leaving Caruso and Ransom to deal with the body.

Caruso flung it over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

‘Wait!’ said Val.

Caruso spun so fast, he swung Bram into an oil lamp. It shattered on the ground.

Val stepped over it, rushing up to the body. For a bewildering moment, Ransom thought she was double-checking his pulse to make sure he really was dead… Until she snapped his gold watch off and slipped it into her pocket.

‘As you were, Daggers,’ she said, skipping after Seraphine.

They turned to watch her go.

‘Little menace,’ muttered Caruso.