“Then you can feel how much I want you, too.” I settle firmly against him, and the heat between us is undeniable.
Iri takes a long, deep breath in. His lips lift in a knowing smile. The scent of my apparent want, unfamiliar to my nose, is recognizable only in his mind. Iri chews on his bottom lip before his tongue traces over the same spot.
“I do want to please you so.” He hums. Goosebumps trail behind his touch as his fingers playfully spin in tiny circles up my exposed calf, then soon, up my thigh.
Easily, I let my eyes flutter to a close, content to enjoy the slow workings of the tender caress. A tiny gasp manages to be the only sound passed between us as he slips his hand under my panties. He draws more circles there, pulling at the strings that hold me all together.
Iri pulls away.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, blinking.
Why! Why are we stopping?
The softness in his gaze flickers to something hard, something savage. His lip curling as he leans closer to me.
“You were meant to die in those woods.” Embers spark under his hands, catching on the fabric of my blankets. His face becomes a shade of crimson, anger burning in the black that consumes his eyes.
“Iri?” I choke, panic squeezing my chest. Fire sparks on my bed. Smoke, wicked and black, infects the air, making it foggy. My nose burns with the familiar smell of the pile.
Long, glowing feathers of fire burst from Bear’s back. The force cracks the tall post of the bed nearest my feet with a blatant snap.
“I’ll rid myself of you, like every other whore meant to be my wife.” His palms glow with the light of his growing flame.
My stomach drops sickly.
Cold wood meets the damp sweat on my back, my shoulders pressing into the headboard without a means for escape. Fire swells beside me, eating slowly at the bed. A charring blaze blackens Iri’s palms as he reaches out and wraps each finger around my neck.
Pressure keeps the needed air from reaching my lungs, pressure placed by the hands of my husband.
He leans down to my ear. His words become hard to hear over the screaming need to breath and the sound of my slowing heart in his ears.
“Syren,” his voice softens. “Wake up.”
My eyes snap open. The world slamming into place around me. Unmarred sheets, plush pink blankets hastily pulled over my legs. High in the sky, the fires of the pile still burn. The wind carries the scent through my open window, smoke curling like the touch of a bad dream toward me.
I sigh, patting my comforter that is unmarked by ember or spark. It was only a dream. Slowly, I pull myself up. Curse that wretched forest and the nightmares it plagues me with. If my mother cared half as much as she pretended to, she would rid me of the lingering fears.
The orange glow cast across the polished floors darkens, the broken light drawing my attention. A black shadow replaces the familiar shapes. Arms and legs crouch in a tangle that looks almost like a spider, the tilt of its head giving away the pointed tip of its ear.
Racing over the flooring, my eyes chase after the object that casts these shadows into my room. A fae rises to stand within my open window. The stinging sound of a sharpened blade as it slips from its sheath is more real than my fear.
I open my mouth to scream, the words already forming on my lip. Cold, sharp steel presses to my neck.
“If you promise not to scream, I’ll make this painless, Princess,” a woman whispers to me.
IRI!I scream through the bond, knowing the heaviness of my husband's sleep. Hoping it’s enough to wake him.Iri, please.
Every small breath makes the blade feel tighter against my neck. The shadow of a man steps down from my windowsill. “That isn’t fair of you. You know I wanted this kill,” he says in a mocking tone to the woman poised behind me.
“You snooze, you lose.” The girl, her voice the same uppity drawl as Aisha’s, makes me tense.
Horror, dismay, and outright panic begin to settle in my bones. Rage replaces it.
“I had a couple of guards that had to be dealt with on the way up.” He shrugs with a little apathy.
I can feel her body, warm beside me, relaxing as she tsk-tsks at her companion. An opening and a chance as her focus slips. With a small inhale, I grab her wrist and yank her hand and the knife away from my throat.
Her wrist pops loudly as I twist her hand around with all my strength. She yelps and the knife topples onto my blanket. I don’t wait to see her next move before I snatch the weapon and shove it into the first piece of flesh I can reach. The blade protrudes from her thigh, blood seeping into the fabric.
