His dark chocolate eyes shimmered with flecks of light, like sunlight illuminated in a dark lens. Magic resonated from him, drawing her to the balls of her feet with a deep inhale.
His forehead pressed against hers.
His thumb trailed across her bottom lip.
She titled her head up to him. His breath was cool against her face.
He looked down at her, scanning her face. A small laugh, like one of relief, escaped his lips. In a rare moment, Mal smiled fully. It was a glorious sight to see his sharp face light up like starlight.
“I think it is you who has saved me,” he said.
Without hesitation, he lowered his lips to hers. White light erupted in her vision and cool, refreshing trickles of magic slithered down her neck and arms and legs.
She wanted to be drenched in the long awaited feeling.
She wanted his all. His silent shadow and his passive protection. His unwavering and unnerving calm. There was no feeling but him. He was all consuming.
She twisted her fingers through his raven hair, pulling herself into him with a sharp breath, instantly aching for more.
The kiss was firm, but his lips were smooth and soft.
Mal was the Dread Descendant. He was her savior. But none of that remained in her mind. All she knew was his hands on her body. His lips on hers.
She kissed him with all the power she could muster in an attempt to make up for all the times she had dreamed of his lips on her. The nights she lay awake wondering how long she’d have to wait to know how he felt. If she would ever know.
Now, finally, it felt like the world around her was no longer burning. He doused her in his chilling power.
Their kiss deepened as her lips parted and his tongue flicked across her bottom lip. His magic brushed through her, making her legs weak. His grip around her waist tightened. She held his head firmly, desperate for him to not pull away.
Finally, their lips parted and Maeve gazed up at him with adoration. He brushed his knuckle across her jaw. Maeve reeled at his touch, tossing her head back and pushing her cheek into his hand.
“Now, Little Viper,” the husky way he called her brought a smile to her lips, “the reason I brought you here.”
Chapter 22
Maeve’s composure returned, her face poised as she stepped over the bodies of Malachite Sr. and his parents. Her job was done, and she was fairly pleased with her work. As she strode past Mal, who leaned on a pillar in the drawing-room, she lingered near him for a moment before continuing towards the door.
He gave the manor one last look. It was unspoken that they needn’t dawdle there. Mal followed her out the door, whipping it closed with his hand, and together they began crossing back across the valley to Thaddeus Gagner’s shed of a home. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he twisted the ring now placed on his finger. It was a silver band, with two minuscule silver skulls holding the black stone on either side.
It had only taken a moment for Mal to perform a second Vexkari and conceal part of his Magic in the Dread Ring, as they deemed it. Neither of them could deny the power radiating from the stone, which led to Mal’s desire to make it his second Vexkari.
She had never seen such a powerful display of dark magic. It blew out the walls of the Peur House, destroying what the Humans called electricity. They had learned about it in Human Studies at Vaukore.
It was a curious invention on their part, though. Almost like Magic.
The act of Vexkari appeared excruciating, just as Mal described. He was on all fours by the end, panting. As he performed the spell, Maeve attempted to illuminate the tip of her fingers. They produced no light. There was a faint circle of wispy black smoke that fully surrounded Mal. An ancient and unfamiliar tongue resonated from his mouth.
When Mal screamed the loudest, swirling black clouds of magic cracked from his mouth, barreling into the ring. Maeve attempted to take a step towards him through the smoke, only to be shot backward and hit the wall. She grabbed her head in pain, kept her distance, and watched in awe until it was finished.
The black smoke disappeared through the open window, and Mal’s breathing began to regulate itself. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, and took a few deep breaths. He leaned back on his knees and looked up at the portrait of Artemis Orion, exhausted. His face was pale.
Maeve squinted through the haze. She would have sworn his cheekbones sat higher, more pronounced now. His head hung once more.
“Mal?” She called.
Maeve looked down at him with a questioning look. He looked up at her triumphantly. She sighed with relief and returned his satisfied smirk.
Mal’s pace was routinely fast, as they had already reached the woods once more. They entered The Gagner House to find Thaddeus just as they had left him.
