Page 27 of The Shard and the Serpent (Shard Daughters #1)

Please, Angel

Warrick

Gods, she fights like a fucking dream.

I drive a crony into the butcher slab beside her as she smiles down at a surgical saw, running her finger through the blood glistening across its surface. Focus . I ram the snake’s head into the corner of the slab.

A branding iron clatters from his apron, and I wrench it into my grasp, my Serpent blade and dagger lost somewhere among the ribs of the four snake-tatted corpses at my back.

I spin the rod until the glowing-hot Serpent crest at its end is at the ready. Then I shove it into his mouth.

Teeth crack. Smoke curls out from his throat as he gurgles around the brand. A twist of my wrist, and the sick fuck gives a final twitch.

Finally, the nest falls quiet.

I drop the iron rod to the floor just in time to catch my perfect girl spitting on her captor’s corpse.

“That’s not good enough,” I say and wipe splattered blood from my forehead, crossing to her in four long strides. I yank a Serpent blade from where it’s wedged under the bastard’s body and lift his arm.

Rayze’s heated gaze sears down from above as crimson spurts, my jaw ticking as I cut off the hand that touched her.

Slowly, I raise from the ground, our eyes locking. She’s a mess, but so am I, both of us covered in our win—and this was a Godsdamn win.

“For you,” I say, sheathing the blade at my belt, and hold out the dismembered hand.

Her lips part, intense desire thrusting along the Bond, but then she takes a large step back. Wariness creeps over her features as she looks to the Skin hanging in their plastic.

“How long have you known about this place?” she asks, venom slicing through the question. She reaches for her bow.

My back tenses. “Going to kill me next, angel?”

“Answer my question,” she hisses. “This is—” She scans the space again, her lips pressing together as she tries to hold back her anger. “How could you allow this to exist?”

“I don’t allow it,” I grit out. “It’s why I brought you here, of all nests. I wanted this place ruined.”

Her eyes run over me. “How do I know you didn’t lead me here thinking I wouldn’t make it out?”

“Look the fuck around,” I snarl and throw out my arms. “I took down just as many cronies as you.”

Rayze lifts her chin, and my shame rears its ugly head at full force.

Rayze

He tosses the severed hand.

It smacks the tops of my boots, our scowls matched.

“Was my tongue in your pussy not enough to prove my loyalty?” he growls, closing the distance between us. “You really think I’d just standby while innocent people were led to be slaughtered in this hellhole?”

Gods. No one should look that thrilling while angry. His rage is magnificent. The way it caverns his face. It sharpens him into something worth wielding.

A perfect weapon.

My perfect weapon.

“I think you make a lot of fucking excuses for yourself,” I snap. “You knew about this place, and—what—needed a woman to come and clean up the mess?”

Warrick moves closer, but he freezes as I aim my arrow between his brows.

“Touch me,” I say, sharp and low, “and I will shoot you, Ivor.”

His fists curl at his sides, blood dripping from the white and black strands of his hair stringing over his eyes. “Not any woman, Rayze,” he answers. “ You . Since I saw you at The Bid, you and your two assassin friends—I knew. I. Needed. You. Your power. Your belief.”

“So you want to use me?” I seethe.

“Oh, angel,” he murmurs and chuckles darkly.

“Don’t pretend we’re not using each other .

It’s fine. I’ll take pride in a woman like you ending this shit.

” He gestures to the hanging Skin and pushes his hair out of his eyes with a hard swallow.

He dares another step, despite my perfect aim, his voice dipping even lower.

“Rayze,” he tries, a strangled, twisted guilt carving his face. The Bond spikes with a jarring wave of shame, and my breath hitches at the starved look he gives me.

“I have desperately waited for you. For years. I just didn’t know it until I saw you in that crowd at The Bid.

It—it felt like waking up.” His hands shake, and he wets his lips.

“And it fucking hurt . Everything I’d spent my life working on—rehabilitating Skin, trying to convince my father to Yield—I saw the rage in your eyes, and I knew none of it was enough.

None of it will ever be enough. Not unless the entire thing is torn apart. ”

His voice cracks, and he glances away, steadying himself before he drags his eyes back to mine.

“Please, angel,” he says. “We can’t keep dancing around this.

There’s too much at stake. Am I your enemy?

Then shoot me. You want me to help? To use me?

I’m yours. But we aren’t leaving this Godsdamn slaughterhouse until it’s decided. ”

I flex my fingers around my bow.

“Am I your enemy, vicious?” he asks and steps up to my arrow, pressing his forehead against its point.

My elbow shakes from holding the shot, my gut vibrating with indecision as a bead of red rolls down between his brows.

“Am. I. Your. Enemy?”

“Yes,” I say, but I lower my bow. “Yes, Warrick.”

He stares at me, reaching a hand out and brushing my cheek. My chin trembles, and he eats up my weakness with greed.

Delightful.

His fingers scrape down my neck and rest against my hammering pulse, his body slanting closer. “Yes?” he whispers, his warm breath kissing the seam of my mouth.

“ Yes ,” I breathe—

And he wrenches me into him.