Page 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

LILY

The fire crackled, spitting embers into the air, as heat licked at my face. I leaned back against a large rock and took another drink. It burned in my throat, warm and heady, the kind of fire I wanted to drown in.

Laughter rumbled around me, rough and unpolished, the sound of warriors reveling in the rare sweetness of a real win. A big win. The kind that left Lucifer’s forces scrambling and our rebellion stronger than ever.

I stretched my legs out toward the fire, fingers curled loosely around a drinking horn filled with something that could strip paint off a fortress wall. Across from me, Gorr, Calder, and Varz sat in their usual spots—my most trusted, my first picks for every skirmish, the ones who had fought beside me for a year now and bled just as much as I had. Gorr, who had been gnawing on a massive bone beside me, thumped his thick tail against the ground and let out a happy chuff.

To my left, Korrak sat like a mountain of molten rage, nursing a massive horn of the same gut-melting liquor. To my right, Sareth leaned forward, her grin catching the firelight. She was a venerath, sleek and sinewy, with dark curved horns and bone ridges along her arms. She was built for speed, for tearing enemies apart before they could even blink.

A true warrior, through and through.

We were a motley bunch, sitting here around the fire, but we had earned this moment. We had stormed into another of Lucifer’s strongholds, torn it apart, taken everything we could carry, and burned the rest to ash.

And the best part?

We had done it without losing a single one of our own.

I tilted my horn toward the fire and grinned. “To a battle well fought, a victory well-earned, and the pure, unfiltered joy of watching Lucifer’s forces scatter like frightened vermin.”

A chorus of grunts, cheers, and growls answered me as everyone lifted their drinks.

“To the bastards we cut down,” Calder added, taking a long, obnoxiously slow sip. He sighed dramatically, licking the last drop from his lips. “And to the ones we left alive to run home crying to Daddy.”

I snorted. “Careful, Calder. You sound like you actually care about the war.”

“I care about the drinking that comes after,” he corrected, flashing me a fanged grin.

Varz let out a low, unimpressed grunt. “You barely lifted a damn finger during the fight.”

Calder spread his hands, all feigned innocence. “Ah, but I did just enough to earn my share of the spoils.”

“You killed two soldiers,” Varz deadpanned.

“They were very important soldiers,” Calder said smoothly. “Quality over quantity, my dear Varz.”

Sareth huffed a laugh, tipping her own drinking horn toward him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, vampire.”

Calder gave her an exaggerated wink. “Oh, I sleep very well. Care to find out for yourself?”

Sareth chuckled, tilting her head as if considering it. “Tempting,” she mused, eyes gleaming. “But I prefer my partners with a little more bite.”

“Oh, darling, I bite plenty,” Calder assured her.

Sareth simply took another sip of her drink. I wasn’t sure if that was a rejection.

Korrak, however, mumbled something under his breath, unimpressed as always. “This is why I don’t drink with vampires,” he grumbled.

At the mention of vampires, I glanced up from my drink and let my gaze wander across the camp in search of my favourite one. Firelight danced in across the area, and multiple groups of hellspawn, all clustered together, drank, laughed, and sharpened their weapons.

And then I found him.

Rathiel.

He stood at the far side, slightly removed from the revelry, speaking quietly with a few of our soldiers. One of the hellspawn, a vexori named Jorek, laughed and downed the rest of her drink in a single swallow. Her gaze found me, and with a knowing grin, she nudged Rathiel’s shoulder.

He turned his head, and our eyes locked across the space between us.

Just like that, the rest of the camp faded away. The noise diminished to little more than a hum in my ears, and all the soldiers blurred. All I saw was him .

For a moment, neither of us moved. The firelight glowed between us, burning as bright and hot as the heat unfurling within my chest.

Rathiel didn’t look away.

Neither did I.

He lifted his flagon and took a drink, his throat moving as he swallowed. Then a slow smile curled the corner of his mouth—subtle, knowing, edged with a hint of teasing. My fingers tightened around my drinking horn as Rathiel’s amusement grew, like he knew exactly what that little smile of his did to me. Hell, he probably did.

Jorek nudged his shoulder again, saying something I couldn’t hear, and the rest of the soldiers in his group chuckled. But he barely acknowledged them, his attention still fixed on me.

Calder bumped my shoulder, shattering the spell Rathiel’s gaze held over me.

“You know,” Calder said. “If you stare at him any harder, he might spontaneously combust.”

I scoffed, elbowing him hard enough to knock him sideways.

Calder grunted and rubbed his arm. “Rude.”

Sareth snickered. “Keep your nose out of their business, and maybe she’ll stop bruising your oh so fragile ego.” Then, with a sly glance in my direction, she added, “He isn’t wrong though. The two of you sizzle. Sometimes it feels like I’m intruding on something intimate just by being in the same camp as you.” She tilted her head and grinned. “Not that I mind. He’s certainly a treat. Definitely a pleasure to look at.”

I shot her a glare, and she had the good sense to lift her hands and scoot back a few inches.

“Well,I mind,” Varz grumbled. “Sick of watching you two eye-fuck each other.”

“I’ve considered walking into Lucifer’s palace and offering myself up to him just to be spared their oh-so-longing looks,” Calder added in, chuckling.

Sareth smirked. “If that’s all it would take…”

Varz groaned, rubbing his temples. “For fuck’s sake, go .”

I needed no more encouragement than that. But when I stood, laughter and cheering rose from my ragtag group and Sareth practically high-fived me as I strode past her. “Get it, girl!”

I turned away from them and started toward Rathiel, weaving through the camp with easy strides. The farther from the celebration I strayed, the quieter it became—less raucous laughter, more hushed voices, more subdued conversations about the battles to come.

Rathiel watched my approach from over the rim of his cup, his smile never once wavering. When I stopped in front of him, he lowered his arm, then leaned down and brushed a lingering kiss against my lips.

Jorek, still at his side, let out a chuckle before finishing her drink and clapping Rathiel on the shoulder. “That’s very much my cue to be elsewhere.”

She and the others strode off without another word, leaving us alone—or as alone as we could be in the middle of a rebel camp.

Rathiel set his drink aside and inclined his head slightly. “Something on your mind?”

I tilted mine right back. “Come with me?”

“Lead the way,” he said without the slightest hesitation.

I took his hand in mine and drew him beyond the encampment and toward the lookout tower that loomed ahead, built just outside the walls. It wasn’t much—just a raised platform with a crumbling stairwell leading up the side—but it gave a clear view of the surrounding wastelands. A necessary vantage point. The rebellion had made a habit of keeping someone stationed up there at all times, but with everyone celebrating tonight, it was empty.

Or at least, I was really hoping it was empty.

This did tend to be a place others used when seeking a moment…alone, after all.

I climbed the steps, the stairs groaning faintly beneath my boots, and when I reached the top, I turned, watching as Rathiel followed. His gaze tracked me, and he didn’t ask why I’d brought him here. He didn’t need to.

He already knew.

We had met here before. Stolen moments between battles, between endless war meetings and exhaustion so deep it felt like it would consume us both. It was one of the few places we could be alone, even if it never lasted. But tonight, we had all night. And I planned to make the most of it.

I stepped back, leaning against the makeshift railing. He stopped just in front of me, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

For once, I wasn’t in the mood to be patient. I reached for him, my fingers curling around the loose fabric of his tunic, tugging him just a little closer. He let me, but only just, his hands bracing against the railing on either side of me, caging me without actually touching me. His warmth pressed close, his breath fanning against my skin, but he didn’t move any farther.

Testing me. Teasing me.

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you going to make me do all the work?”

His mouth quirked, but he still didn’t touch me. “Maybe.”

I made a frustrated noise, and in response, Rathiel laughed, the low timbre of it running through me like a slow burn.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

I gave his tunic another tug, but he stayed exactly where he was, forcing me to bridge the last bit of distance myself. I did, pressing into him, feeling the steady press of his chest against mine. His hands finally moved, but just barely, fingertips brushing against my sides, light and teasing, not nearly enough.

I bit back a curse. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips tilted. “Immensely.”

I would have scowled at him, but then he dipped his head, his mouth grazing the corner of mine. Not quite a kiss. Just enough to make my breath catch.

I glared playfully at him. “You know, I dragged you all the way out here for a reason.”

“Oh?” His voice was quiet, velvet over rough edges. “And what reason might that be?”

I arched a brow. “Take a wild guess.”

His gaze searched my face while his fingers skimmed lower, slipping beneath the hem of my tunic, tracing bare skin in slow, deliberate strokes. “I wouldn’t want to assume.”

I let out a slow breath, my head tilting just slightly as his lips brushed against my jaw. “Rathiel.”

“Yes?” he murmured.

“I swear to every forsaken inch of this place, if you don’t kiss me properly, I will?—”

He cut me off with exactly what I’d been asking for.

The teasing, the hesitation, all of it vanished the instant his lips claimed mine. I melted against him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I deepened the kiss. Rath’s hands slid up my back and under my wings, locking me against him. His touch wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t cautious or reverent. He was touching me like I was his. Because I was .

I nipped at his bottom lip, my hands stroking his stomach, his sides, his back, longing to rip his clothing off him. I wanted him naked now . But I also wanted to take my time. An interesting contradiction of emotions.

And one Rathiel took charge of when he gripped my wrists and pinned my arms against the railing. My breath stuttered and my heart jumped at the show of strength, at the way he held me in place so effortlessly.

He lowered his head, his lips tracing the column of my throat with a deliberate slowness, his breath warm against my skin. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t desperate. But there was something beneath the practiced control and teasing. Something that sent a shiver down my spine.

I knew this game well.

We’d done this before—stolen moments between war councils and blood-soaked battles, pressed together in the dark, grasping at whatever time we could steal for ourselves. And more than once, in the heat of it all, I had felt the press of his fangs at my throat, the quick hitch in his breath before he gave in, before I tilted my head back and let him feed.

He always asked first. Even when hunger had sharpened his edges, when his restraint had frayed so thin I could feel the tremble in his hands, he’d never once just taken. He’d waited for me to say yes.

And I had. Every time.

But tonight felt different.

His grip on my wrists wasn’t just teasing. His breath against my skin wasn’t just temptation.

There was a weight to it.

A tension that hadn’t been there before.

I swallowed, feeling his lips skim just over the place where his fangs had pierced before. “Rathiel,” I murmured.

His fingers flexed around my wrists, his entire body taut, like he was holding himself back. His mouth hovered against my pulse, and for a moment, I thought he would ask.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he eased back, his grip releasing my wrists. “Not tonight.”

I blinked, my body still burning, still aching . “What?”

“I have other plans for you, love,” he said.

His expression grew heated—and then his lips captured mine again, rougher this time. His fingers dug into my waist as he pressed me harder against the railing, and I barely bit back a gasp at the sudden force of it.

Good. That was better.

I let him take, let him push, let myself get lost in it. I skimmed my nails up his sides, his body shuddering under my touch, his hands gripping my hips with a bruising intensity.

His hands roamed lower, fingers tracing the curve of my hips, slipping beneath the waistband of my pants with slow, deliberate intent. He pressed closer, his lips never leaving mine, swallowing the soft sound I made when his hand dipped lower, teasing.

Rathiel wasn’t gentle—he never was, not in moments like this. He was precise, knowing exactly how to unravel me with the smallest movement, the lightest pressure. His fingers skimmed just where I needed them, a barely there touch that sent heat surging through me, my body arching instinctively into him.

“Impatient,” he murmured against my mouth, his lips curving in amusement.

I let out a frustrated breath, my hands fisting in his hair. “You’re the one who’s dragging this out,” I shot back. A shiver ran through me when he finally— finally —pressed his fingers against me properly.

A slow stroke, just enough to send a spike of pleasure curling in my stomach.

“Someone has to keep you on your toes,” he said, his voice full of satisfaction.

I bit my lip, but a sound slipped out as he moved again, his fingers deft and knowing, his other hand gripping my waist to keep me pinned against the railing. My body pulsed with need, with the overwhelming sensation of him.

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my breath coming fast and uneven. “Rathiel?—”

“I know,” he murmured, his lips grazing my jaw, my throat. His fingers moved faster, working me toward that edge, dragging me closer and closer with each precise movement.

I was right there, pleasure coiling tight, ready to snap?—

“Lily.” A voice shattered the moment.

A loud, irritated growl tore from my throat, and I snapped my head toward the sound.

Korrak.

Fucking Korrak.

Rathiel cursed and dropped his forehead onto my shoulder as his fingers stilled, still resting against me. His other hand flexed against my hip like he was trying very, very hard not to murder the hellspawn.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered, my head resting on his in frustration.

Korrak cleared his throat, completely unbothered by having just walked in on something he absolutely should not have interrupted.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” he said flatly.

“Oh, it better be fucking important,” I ground out.

Rathiel finally straightened, his expression a mask of forced neutrality—though I didn’t miss the glint of irritation in his eyes. The loss of his touch sent a frustrated heat flashing through me, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

Rathiel faced Korrak, his tone clipped. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

Korrak arched a brow. “It really can’t.”

I took a deep, steadying breath, forcing down every violent urge surging through me, and fixed Korrak with a withering glare. “ What. ”

Korrak crossed his arms. “We’ve got a problem.” His eyes darted between us, unimpressed. “A real problem.”

I was going to kill him.

Right after I killed whatever problem had the audacity to interrupt us.

I exhaled through my nose, trying not to look too murderously frustrated. “Fine. But if this is another one of your we should attack now speeches, Korrak, I swear ?—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted, his expression dark. “Our scouts have returned. Lucifer’s army marches this way, and Lucifer is leading the charge.” His gaze met mine. “He’s coming.”

Well… Fuck.