Page 19 of The Shard and the Serpent (Shard Daughters #1)

Bound Wrists

Rayze

Warrick crashes into the stable floor with a crack that echoes off the beams. Phantom pain tears between my ribs, and I double over, clutching my stomach with a gasp as the Bond stings between us.

Warrick groans, rain sheeting through the half-collapsed roof in a cold, unrelenting downpour. It streaks over shorn leather and splintered beams, nailing him as he rakes his fingers against his skull.

I leap.

My boots slam into the ground, my body humming with urgency and—fuck me, is that guilt? I curse and lunge to his side but stop myself from touching him.

Warrick claws at his chest, fingers streaked with grit. Some of his wounds from Rathem have torn open, blood smearing before the rain washes it to the mulch beneath him.

I chew my lip. Then I catch his wrists before he can make his injuries worse and pin his hands above his head. He rasps for air, his eyes distant and panicked.

“You’re okay,” I manage, rain streaming down my cheeks. “Just breathe. The pain will subside.”

His gaze fastens on my face. His lips curl with a snarl.

Then he surges.

I yelp as he grabs my waist and tosses me beneath him. My back hits the soaked floor, and I sputter, my breath knocked away. He straddles me, hips pinning mine and my bow grinding into my spine.

“You—” The rest strangles into an incoherent mess. Warrick bashes a palm against his temple with a frustrated shout, the other flattening over my chest. “What the fuck did you do to me?” he growls.

I buck, but he shifts fast. His hand slides up, settling at my throat.

Rain traces his jaw. “Answer me!” he shouts and squeezes .

Lightning tears through the sky above. Chains clatter against the rafters, gleaming silver for one flicker of a second.

I tilt my head back from his grip. My wet hair slides across dead leaves, my blood singing with rage and arousal. My fingers twitch toward the blade strapped at my thigh.

But he catches the movement.

With a guttural sound, Warrick hauls us upright. His hand fists the front of my coat, dragging me to my feet. Our bodies collide, wet and heaving, the storm screaming overhead.

He shoves me hard against the nearest beam, my back hitting splintered wood. I brace on instinct, but he’s already there, his mouth close, breath ragged.

“You— you erased yourself ,” he chokes out.

Then he rips my coat off and wrenches at every bit of fabric trapped between us. I moan, the straps of my top catching on the harness at my waist, weapons cinched tight against my ribs. He tears until leather gives and the whole mess clatters at our feet.

I lurch, but he pins his forearm against my neck, my skull digging into the wooden post.

“Fucking magic,” he spits and fists the fabric of my skirt, dragging it up to my waist. Cold air sinks over my soaked skin, goosebumps rolling down my legs.

He stops. Just for a breath. Just long enough for the heat between my legs to meet the heat in his gaze.

His jaw flexes as he takes in the sight of my bare pussy.

Then he drops to his knees.

“Let’s get something clear. Right now,” he says, shoulders shaking and the veins along his neck tensed. He strips me of my boots and chucks them across the stable. One, then the other.

“Keep all the secrets you want, vicious, but you don’t take yourself away,” he continues, his breaths sharp.

He tears into the thick bands of my tights, and my heart hammers, his head tilting back to watch me. His eyes are venomous as he shreds the sheer fabric with one jerk, biceps flaring as the material burns into my skin. Blades hidden along my thighs clang to the ground.

My knees tremble, rain pouring over my naked body.

He holds my glare. Silent. Unblinking.

Slowly, he rises from his crouch.

“My mind is mine,” he spits and steps into me. His palm slides between my thighs. “Nod that pretty head yes,” he growls. “Tell me you understand. Promise you’ll never use your magic against me again.”

His fingers flex against my clit, and I shudder.

“Then maybe,” he murmurs, “I’ll make your punishment light.”

Anger brightens in my veins, my nostrils flaring. I drop my smile, snap my hand to his wrist, and twist.

Warrick grunts, stumbles, and I shove him until his spine smacks the nearest stall beam. Dust cascades. Leather reins jangle above us. One falls, swinging low like an invitation.

I snatch it.

“You think you deserve my compliance, Heir?” I hiss. “You think I owe you an ounce of submission?”

He flashes teeth. “You fucked with my head.”

“I chose revenge. I will always choose revenge,” I snap. “You owe me far more than your mind, Warrick Ivor.”

I loop the rein around his wrists in a single motion, jerking it tight and forcing his arms behind the beam. His chest heaves, the whites of his eyes wild. Torment, awe—they war in his gaze.

“Revenge? I haven’t done anything to you,” he argues.

I drag my palm down his torso, savoring the tremble that follows. I sink to a crouch between his legs, my voice dark.

“My body and my magic are weapons,” I return in warning, “and I don’t waste either on the undeserving. I promise. If I’m in your life, it’s because you deserve my attention.”

Rain and blood streak down his chest, his open wounds ripping wider.

“You want to punish me?” A dark laugh cracks from my lips. “Go ahead and try, Ivor, but I can assure you, I won’t feel it.”

Momma? A small voice whispers.

I step back, my hands shaking as rain crashes over my cold skin. No. Not now. For the love of Gods—

Shard Daughters do not cry.

“Rayze?” Warrick murmurs. “Rayze, what is it?” He tugs against his bindings. “Let me down.”

I suck in a harsh breath, my brows drawing together. “Shut up,” I whisper, hoarse. “You—” I shake my head in agony. My hands pull at my hair, and my lips tremble. “Fuck. Fuck .”

Red crashes over my vision. The flash of a Serpent crest across chrome armor, and my— “You and your father will pay for your sins,” I bite out, my eyes burning and starlight cracking over my knuckles.

Warrick

I feel the exact moment her heart tears open and the pieces catch fire. What burns through the Bond isn’t just pain. It’s years of her holding herself together with nothing but fury and bone.

And she’s looking at me like I’m the reason. Like her world ended by my hands, not my father’s.

With a strangled yell of defiance, I yank down. Leather snaps from the beam in a vicious crack. My wrists stay bound, but it doesn’t matter. I grab her cheeks and glare down at her, her glare piercing mine. “You think I’m that man? That fucking man?”

“I think complacency against evil when you have the power to help is two sides of the same coin,” she spits.

I rip back and slam my bound wrists down over my knee. The leather snaps and I lunge, fisting her hair in a brutal demand. “I need you to hear me when I say this. I agree with you. When I was young and ignorant—yes, I stood by.”

Shame claws through me, my stomach clenching in discomfort. My jaw ticks, my heart in my throat.

“The Skin Trade is so fucking normalized, and I didn’t know how bad it was until I got put in charge of Serpent nests and trafficking routes.

Since then, I’ve done what I can to start reversing all the damage Russell has caused,” I tell her.

I wet my lips, shaking my head. “It’s not an excuse, Rayze, I know.

Punish me. I deserve it. I’ll never pretend to be a good man, but— please —I am not that man. ”

She exhales against my chin, her brows drawn as she studies me.

“I will gut him. All of his cronies. One by one,” I promise. “But I have stakes, too. The Serpent can’t just be killed, and the Skin Trade can’t be dismantled overnight .”

She grits her teeth. “Why the fuck should I believe anything you say?”

I tighten my grip in her hair. “Because just like I knew in those woods exactly what kind of woman you are, even without knowing your name—you know what kind of man I am, and you know it isn’t him .”

Her lips tremble, her throat working as her green eyes flick over my face. “That’s just the Bond.”

“ Just the Bond?” I hiss. “There’s nothing simple about this.

Fate has chosen us, for better or worse, and I don’t need magic to know this is real.

This is happening. Hate me all you want, vicious.

I’ll even let you walk away. I’ll never touch you or seek you out again, Bond be damned, but you will never compare me to my father ever again. Do you understand?”

Her hands grasp my shoulders. “You truly have no idea what Russell did to my family?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

Her family . Hundreds of sickening scenarios twist through my mind of what my father could have done to them. If she was young, if she’d witnessed it—I inhale and close my eyes, bracing myself.

“No. I swear it.” I snatch her closer, my lips inches from hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You want him dead? Baby, I’ll hand you the knife. Just give me a chance to prove to you we want the same things.”

Whatever my father did, she’s done nothing but sharpen herself. Year after year. Cut after cut. Not a single dull moment to evolve past her grief.

Tears swim over her eyes, and my heart breaks as she holds them back.

I can’t touch her softly. I won’t soothe wounds she never let scab. If anything, she needs them torn wide, to grieve, and I need her raw.

Now.

I crash my mouth against hers.

Her anger spills between us, but I don’t pull back.

I take it. Deep. Greedy. It floods the Bond as she angles harder against me, lips parting wide.

She tastes me first, tongue desperate and fighting.

Her nails rake down my shoulders, then clutch tight and pull outward like she wants to rip me in half.

Good. Let her.

I shift closer, and her bare, beautiful pussy presses hot against my pants. I need to feel every twitch. Every pulse. My cock throbs, trapped by my belt. I growl low, grab her thighs, and hoist her clean off the ground.

Her wet center kisses my stomach, and that’s it. I’m done for. Soaked. She’s fucking soaked for me.

Her legs wrap around my waist, drenched skin sliding against mine, and I steady her against an old gear rack behind us. Metal clatters, and she arches into the kiss, into me, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my wet hair. The Bond quakes, and strangled moans release from us in unison.

“You feel that?” I rasp against her mouth. My voice is gravel. “That’s ours . Everything we can be, should be.”

She rolls her hips, grinding slow against the strain in my pants.

“Say it,” I demand, mouth dragging down her jaw. My teeth scrape her neck. “Tell me you feel it. Tell me you fucking need it.”

Her pulse flutters against my tongue, and I bite down.

She moans.

Gods, that sound. I’d burn for it.

Her head kicks back against the metal behind her. Rain washes over both of us, soaking her hair, slipping down her bare thighs. She looks like war. Like sin. Like mine.

I drive my hips into her again, a slow thrust against her swollen, pink clit.

Her mouth drops open with another moan, lashes fluttering.

I lick the sound from her lips. “Say it.”

Her voice barely scrapes out. “I feel it, Warrick.” Her lips tremble. “I need it.”

I devour her.