A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

“It was not borne of panic.” Not exactly. Maybe a little.

“I don’t believe that. You’re smarter than this, Poppy.” He unsheathed the other sword, sliding it free. “Too damn clever to run in the middle of the night with no food, no water, and nothing more than a paltry meat knife for protection.”

I clamped my lips together as the heat of anger warmed my skin.

“Do you know how long it will take to get to Whitebridge on foot? That’s where you were heading, wasn’t it? Did you think about how cold it gets in the middle of the night?” he demanded, a hint of anger hardening his tone. “At any point, did you stop and think about the things that could be in these woods?”

I hadn’t. Not really. And he was right. My plan wasn’t all that well-thought-out. “Are you done talking yet? Or are you too afraid that I might actually beat you, so you won’t shut up?”

“I like hearing myself talk.”

“I’m sure you do.” The snow picked up, spiraling across the ground.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Are you?”

“Always.”

My gaze dipped to his sword. He held it pointed down, not at the ready. There was an insult there, whether he meant it or not. Blistering, smoky rage burned through me, spurring me into action.

Charging him, I jabbed for his midsection, but Casteel was fast, deflecting my attack with a simple swipe of his sword. “You should be aiming for my neck, Princess. Or is the sword too heavy for you?”

Lips thinning at the taunt, I swiped the sword high. He blocked it and struck out, not nearly as fast as he could, considering I could easily dance out of his reach.

“You’ve forgotten a lot of what I said to you.” He prowled forward, cutting off my next blow with a swipe of his blade.

“Maybe I chose to ignore whatever it was you had to say.” Eyes narrowing, I moved to the side.

“Either way, I’ll do you a favor and repeat myself.”

“Not necessary.” I tracked his movements as he circled me. He was far more skilled with the sword, just like Vikter had been when he trained with me. What had he taught me? Never forget one of the most important weapons: the element of surprise.

Casteel stalked me, sword raised. “It seems entirely too necessary for me to repeat myself, considering your foolish behavior.”

I would show him foolish behavior.

“Fight me. Argue with me. I won’t stop you. But I will not allow you to put your life in jeopardy. And this? Tonight? Is the epitome of reckless, life-endangering behavior.”

“You didn’t want me to argue with you earlier,” I reminded him, watching him carefully.

“Because, as I said, you can fight me, but not when it jeopardizes your life.”

“So, my life was in jeopardy with Alastir?”

“I was working on ensuring that’s not the case. Yet here I am instead, making sure you haven’t gotten yourself killed.”

“Only because you need me alive. Right? What good will a dead Maiden be as a bartering tool when it comes to freeing your brother?”

His jaw flexed. “So, you’d rather get yourself killed?”

“I’d rather be free,” I gritted out as the wind blew a strand of hair across my face.

His upper lip curled, revealing one fang. “If you think running back to the Ascended will give you freedom, then I’ve overestimated your critical-thinking skills.”

“If you think that’s what I’m planning, then I’ve overestimated yours,” I returned.

Casteel made his move then, swinging hard. I suspected he planned to knock the sword free from my hand. If he landed the blow, he would’ve, but I darted into the sword’s path. Surprise widened his eyes as he drew the blade back like I knew he would. I was no good to him dead.

I dipped under his arm and spun, kicking out. My boot connected with his stomach, pushing a sharp curse out of him. Straightening, I swung the blade around. Casteel shifted to the side, narrowly avoiding a slice to the chest.

“Nice job,” he remarked, his voice free of mockery.

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts.”

His blade met mine in a clang of bloodstone. For several heated moments, that was the only sound in the woods as we thrust and parried. A fine sheen of sweat dampened my forehead despite the cold, and even though all the running caused my muscles to now weep in protest, I refused to give in.

This wasn’t a fight to the death. In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t even a fight for freedom because no matter what deal Casteel made, he wouldn’t let me go. This was about who disarmed whom first. Who drew first blood. This was about driving out the pent-up rage and the festering sense of helplessness that had resided inside me for far longer than I was comfortable admitting. And maybe, just maybe, that was why Casteel was allowing this.

The edge of my sword came close to nicking his left cheek as he swept the blade aside, the deflection sending an aching tremor up my arms. I was breathing fast while he showed no signs of tiring.

He moved around me in a slow circle, his sword once again lowered. “Did I frighten you tonight? With Landell?” he asked. The arrogance marking his features slipped away, revealing someone else entirely. “Is that why you ran? Are you scared of me?”

Startled by the question—by the way he almost looked afraid to hear my answer—I lowered the sword an inch.

It was a mistake.

Casteel struck as fast as a falcon with its prey in sight. He gripped my arm, spinning me so my back was to him. I tried to twist, but his arm clamped down on my waist, pulling me back against his chest. He pressed his fingers into my wrist, forcing my hand to spasm open. The sword fell to the snow.

“I had to do it,” he said, dipping his head so his cheek pressed against mine. “No one, and I mean no one, speaks of you like that. Threatens you and lives.”

My stupid, ridiculous heart skipped a beat. “That’s so sweet,” I said, and I felt his arm loosen around my waist. “But you cheated.”

Jerking to the side, I slammed my elbow into his stomach as hard as I could. Casteel grunted, letting go. I whirled, striking fast instead of going for the sword he still held. My fist caught him in the corner of the mouth. The shock of pain flared in his eyes, and I spun, dipping low as I swung my leg around. He jumped, but I caught one leg, sweeping it out from underneath him. He went down, and a shout of victory burst from me as I popped to my feet and turned to him, breathing heavily.

Casteel dropped his sword as he rose onto one elbow, dragging his hand over his mouth as he stared up at me. Red smeared the back of his hand, and a sense of violent delight surged through me. He’d disarmed me first, but I’d made him bleed.

“Just so you know, I’d do it again—kill a thousand versions of Landell,” he said, dampening some of the satisfaction I felt as I glanced at the sword he’d dropped. “And I wouldn’t lose a moment of sleep over it. But you never need to fear me. Never.”

My gaze flew to his. There was no smugness in his words, no teasing in his stare. “I don’t fear you.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and I seized that moment, shooting toward the sword. I wasn’t even exactly sure what I would do with it once I held it.

I didn’t get to find out.

Casteel snagged me around the waist, moving so silently that I hadn’t even heard him stand or come at me. He took me to the ground, twisting so he took the brunt of the fall. I ended up on top of him.

“This reminds me of the stables,” he spoke to the back of my head, and whatever vulnerability had been in his voice moments before was now gone. He rolled me under him. “You were just as violent then as you are now.”

His weight and the heat of his body against my back and the iciness of the snow at my front was a shock to my senses, stunning me.

“Most wouldn’t find that such an attractive quality.” His voice was a warm whisper against my ear, invoking thoughts of tangled sheets and lush spice.

There wasn’t an inch of space separating us. I could feel him along the length of my back, over the curve of my rear, and where one of his legs was shoved between mine. The decadent scent of him and the crispness of the snow filled every too-short, too-shallow breath as every part of my body became aware of his.

“But…” he said, his mouth brushing my jaw, followed by the graze of his sharp teeth, sending an illicit thrill through me. Would he bite me? An aching heaviness filled my chest and glided lower, igniting a burst of disbelief. Did I…? Did I want him to do that? No. Of course, not. I couldn’t. His lips curved against my skin, against the healing bite mark. “I’m not most people.”

“Most people aren’t as insane as you,” I said in a throaty voice that wasn’t mine.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” He scraped harder with his sharp teeth, just below where he’d bitten me before, and I gasped as my body jerked. “And the truth is, you like my brand of insanity.”

My blood pounded through me in a dizzying push. “I don’t like anything about you.”

He laughed as his lips skimmed the side of my throat. “I love how you lie.”

“I’m not lying,” I denied, wondering if he nudged my head to the side or if I had done that. It couldn’t have been me.

“Hmm?” His lips hovered over the spot where my pulse fluttered wildly. “Your penchant for violence isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Not with me. Haven’t I told you it turns me on?”

“One too many times,” I said, pushing off the ground and against Casteel. I felt him against me for a brief moment, felt the proof of his words. The tight throbbing response to the knowledge made me question my sanity.

Casteel hadn’t expected the move, and he slipped to the side—or maybe he was just humoring me. Probably the latter. Either way, I scrambled to my knees and turned on him, throwing a wild punch.

Casteel caught my hand. “Then I guess it would be repetitive of me to tell you how much you’re turning me on now?”     PrevNextTip: You can use left and right keyboard keys to browse between pages.

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