Page 9 of What Whispers in the Dark (Promises of the Marked)
Malik’s grin curved downward. Ghostly, hauntingly still as his eyes fell empty or unamused or some shit—she didn’t care. He opened his mouth to speak but reconsidered.
Satisfaction rippled across Jade’s face as she flashed a victorious grin, but it quickly fell as his silence ended and returned with, “I rather enjoy these little skirmishes. You never cease to disappoint.”
Flames, she despised him. So much so she stabbed her dagger into the wood of the hitching post and snarled it. “I hate you.”
An amused breath. Something like glee flashed in those night-dark eyes along with it. Malik pushed off the pillar and inched a step closer, daring—actually daring —to approach her. “Oh, come now, l—” He cleared his throat. Then said, “You can do better than that.”
A brief moment of calm … before?—
Like Maker of the Skies had sent her as punishment, Malik had half a second before Jade threw the entire force of her body through the air and into her swing. Snapping her strength back before her blade could slice completely through his throat. At the base of his neck, she rested it there.
Malik didn’t fight it. He only stumbled backward. Sank his back into the pillar.
“One more word,” she threatened with honest menace.He wanted to see her claws? Better not act surprised when she used them.
Apparently, he enjoyed her claws because his eyes brightened with the challenge.
Though impossibly dark still, resembling the waters of a frigid lake.
Once again flickering down to her necklace then back to the green of her eyes, he snickered with cold revelry, making her realize he had won precisely what he wanted. “There she is.”
The words… She could feel a sense of ownership in them, like he was staking a claim.
No matter her lapse of control, Jade pressed the edge of her blade harder into his skin. He may have succeeded in getting a rise out of her, but it was his neck that was bleeding.
He hissed, and she felt that rush of power and all-consuming joy as blood beaded around the metal. She wanted to see him drenched in it.
Heavy footsteps crunched the loose pebbles and rustled the grass. Shadows of silhouettes extended below the morning light, drawing closer.
With little effort, Malik dismissively flicked his wrist, stopping whoever it was without a single word. Like he wasn’t afraid of her. Of what she could do without magic.
Arrogant fucking fool.
“Oh”—the word elongated, chuckling it like a taunting song as it bounced off his wretched tongue—“High Prince’s.
Little. Dragon.” Entirely an insult, pressing deeper against her blade with an emphasis on each word.
Then murmured, “Can’t have you die yet. There’s still so much more I want from you.
My little toy.” A hand brushed along her jaw.
He tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. The movement a threat of its own.
Pet… He didn’t have to say it for her to know he was as demoniacal as the bitch who tortured Garrik.
So close she could feel the blistering warmth from his mouth, Jade warred with the urge to rip out his throat with her teeth. She’d done it before. Would never forget the feeling of it. Of the way she spat the flesh on the body once it fell lifeless to the ground.
Of the taste…
Would Malik taste just as victorious?
Warmth enveloped her shoulder before she could act on the thought, covering her bonded’s tattoo hidden underneath her cloak and leathers.
Thalon stood behind, wise enough to know that getting caught between them would be akin to blocking a dragon from its horde.
His warning cut as sharp as her blade. “ Jade .”
Blue flames flickered in Malik’s eyes at the intrusion.
If hers could, she’d ignite too.
Back down. Through Garrik’s powers that linked them in times such as these, she heard him. Besides Garrik—and it pained her to admit, Aiden—Thalon was the only other male she would relent for.
The dagger twitched against Malik’s flesh.
Please, sis. Do not do this. Do not make him watch as they tear her away from him and rip her life from this world. Thalon’s grip remained steady but didn’t pull her away. Allowing her the choice.
He fucking asked for it.
Thalon’s sigh was devastating. Maybe so, but still … it is only a tactic. You know that.
If she wasn’t burning her hatred into Malik, he would have seen her look to the sky for restraint. It wasn’t fair. Not after all he had done. Still, Thalon couldn’t be ignored. Even though every nerve in her body screamed against it, she answered, Fine.
Malik studied her eyes like he was engraving them to memory. Like he was conducting a scheme to use whatever powers were granted to him to invade minds for magic-washing. To leave her emerald irises as silver as her High Prince’s, truly reforming her as his toy.
Or perhaps he stared into them with astute knowing. The male was meticulous with his observations. If he weren’t the snake bitch’s servant, then perhaps he would be Galdheir’s spymaster for his cunning eye and wit.A master at the game he conducted. The king piece on a checkered board.
Little did he know he was a pawn playing against a queen.
No matter her deep-seated rage and yearning for his death, Jade loosened her fist and withdrew the blade slightly, allowing a trickle of blood to inch down the plane of his high-collared neck, disappearing underneath to where some sort of tattoo peeked out.
“What a shame.” Only there was no disappointment shaping Malik’s features. More goading, a taunt to see what she would do while he took immense pleasure in prodding. “I had hoped?—”
“I care not for what you hoped .” Thalon’s hand on her didn’t budge as she replied, “Do not test me, flame fucker. You’re begging for more of my blade.”
“You think you could succeed at that?” He scoffed. “I could have you on your knees in a heartbeat if I willed it. It would suit you.”
“Think about that image a lot, do you?” She scoffed. “Shut up before I cut out your tongue.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Warm breath fanned across the shell of her ear before Malik whispered in it, “Because, princess,” the back of his fingers trailed down her neck, “you would enjoy this tongue should I ever care to use it.”
A pained gasp had his mouth pulling away. The warmth of his blood coated the edge of her blade, where she’d dropped it and slashed it across his chest.
Malik clasped a hand over his heart at the liquid seeping through his jacket. A minor flesh wound, not enough to kill, but to remember who she was. What creature he had brushed his fingers against.
She should have cut off his fingers, too.
Panting, “I guess you’ll never know.” Malik blew out a breath, clenching inside the leathers, coating his palm and the visible tattoos underneath in blood.
“You’re right. You never will.” Jade shoved against his ribs and twisted away, catching the wind with her cloak as she called back, “Might want to get that checked. Looks like you cut yourself,” and stood by their horses and Ghost.
Leaving the males to brood, she sliced a glance over her shoulder and watched Thalon drop the tip of his golden sword to the center of Malik’s chest, between the swell of muscles there, as the infernal male burned his dark gaze into her left shoulder.
She caught his retort, that scoff of breath, when he regarded the golden metal on the scales of his leathers. “Cute,” he snorted and swatted the blade away.
But Thalon tapped it right back.
“Must we do this rigmarole every time we meet?” Voice clipped, unamused.
“We are all loyal to the High King.” Jade knew the words felt like burning coals to Thalon’s lips, but their ruse must remain. “That doesn’t mean we have to get along.”
“Quite so. How dreadfully boring that would be.” His eyes flicked down to the tip resting on his chest, so close it could scrape his knuckles, keeping him from bleeding out.
At the gleam of gold against the morning sunlight, as Thalon’s red cloak swayed in the smoky breeze.
Scanning the intricate details of ancient runes, the words engraved of his house, to the unfurled wings on the pommel.
“If you wish to harm me, find a real weapon. Perhaps your female can lend you one.”
An entirely different set of footsteps approached from the south end of Brennus’s firesite.
Six Ravens with distinctive differences in their identical insignia parted the shadows between the purple tents, each with a black viper curled around the engraved raven’s neck on their armor.
Even their purple cloaks had serpents slithering over their shoulders.
One advanced forward from the gathered.
Tension rippled in the air as the male broke the silence, “Sir, the mistress…” he spoke her vile name, “requires your attention.”
A low sound, harsh and rumbling, growled from Malik’s chest. He didn’t move. Only seared his attention into the Guardian in front of him, who brandished a smirk.
Movement, so subtle, had Jade looking downward.
Malik’s fist was shaking. He almost looked pained the longer he stood there.
The male Raven kept his stare pointed, almost as if he were the true authority among them, but still addressed Malik as, “Sir.” The remaining five Ravens shuffled uneasily like they would be subject to a lashing by the bitch as he insisted, “Telldairan prisoners… Marked Ones’ witnesses… Your mistress requires?—”
“As amusing as this has been…” Malik turned from Thalon’s blade without a care that it was now poised at his back.
“Run back to your master,” Thalon spat, and Malik paused. That hand began shaking once more.
With one last look at Jade, he rolled his shoulders back, stiffening them into a position of superiority, and led the soldiers away, disappearing between the tents.