Dominic rose from the chair and strode the few steps it took to sit beside her on his bed. His palm settled on her thigh, thumb brushing over her pants. “You don’t have to worry about that here,” he mused softly.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but Adara cut in.
“You can’t say that when you are only using me for my key,” she said sternly, shoving her knife back into the sheath on her belt. Adara nearly shuddered at the thought of her power being his to manipulate. Her soul forever tied to his hands to command. Her light eternally intertwined with the darkness inside him. Yet that didn’t stifle the comfort of his touch, or the thought that silently urged his hand to slide higher up her thigh.
Dominic only shook his head, sighed, and muttered, “You have no idea what I have planned after this war.”
Though his tone held no threat, those words made Adara’s heart pound.
“Enlighten me, then,” Adara challenged. She rose from the bed, shoulders rolling back. She needed to be away from him, to stop letting him touch her or she might freeze completely at his mercy. “Because I knowexactlywhat I’m doing when I win.”
Dominic stood, eyes narrowed. A tender hand cupped her cheek. An icy feeling sank into her skin, like his touch was draining all the fire—the fight—out of her. A cruel smirk curled his lips. Adara hated and loved that expression all the same. Despised it because she wanted to believe he wasn’t as ruthless and cunning as he seemed. She wanted to believe that he’d fallen for her. But she loved it because it was the reminder she needed to protect her heart from his bloodied hands that would only tear her apart.
“Love, why would I spoil my plans? That would take the fun out of it,” he said, voice laced with mock innocence.
Adara grabbed his arm, jerking it away from her face, holding him in a stern grip.
He leaned toward her, breath caressing her lips. “And what will you do with me, Phoenix?” he asked, completely unfazed by her iron hold. He ran his tongue over the edges of his teeth in a teasing smirk.
Biting the inside of her lip, she huffed out a breath, hating that she enjoyed the way that name rolled off his tongue. She released his wrist from her grip, retreating a step. “I have no secrets to hide.” She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “You’re going to help me take down the Shadow Empire once and for all,” she declared, assuming an air of indifference. “And after I destroy everything the shadows have touched”—she shrugged—“we’ll see if your life still means anything to me . . . That is, if you don’t die in the war.”
Ambivalence flashed behind his irises. A second later, his stern shield of arrogance returned. He stepped closer to her, their chests almost touching, her flame tattoo to his scar. Part of her wanted to back away. The other part of her wanted to step closer. Adara stood her ground.
“You lost before. What makes this time any different?” Dominic spat, suddenly full of icy contempt. “You can’t even find your way back.”
Those cold, harsh words drove her mad. He was right. How could she fulfill the prophecy without a way back to Blemythia? Here, in another land, she was utterly useless. Her people needed her, and she was not there. She was dead to them. In their eyes, the Shadow Empire had already won.
“Hel, you almost got yourself killed out there!” His voice rose in fury as he splayed an arm, gesturing out the porthole to the dark ocean. “Charging into battle against a bloodylykren! You could have died!” There was a harsh edge to his words, slicing cleanly through her like a knife.
“But I didn’t!” she snapped.
Dominic paced the room, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “You can’t go back,” he said more quietly but not any less fiercely.
A muscle ticked in her jaw, her teeth grinding together. “Icanand Iwill,” she seethed.
He whirled to face her, eyes simmering with hysteria. “Why are you so adamant about running straight to your death?”
“You don’t seem to have a problem with it when it comes to you,” she rebuked. Offering him her key in a game of love was courting death at its finest, yet Dominic was so eager to accept her offer. And now he was what? Trying to protect her? This was all bullshit. Every word that came out of his mouth, every emotion that flitted across his face, they were all lies.
Adara cursed herself for being foolish enough to believe them, for being insane enough to think she could steal the Thief of Hearts’s heart. She cursed her stupid heart for aching to be near him, and her stupid mind for falling for his tricks. But no matter how much she reminded herself it was all an act with him, hope kept burning inside her. Hope that it was real.
She turned away, running a hand through her hair and blinking through her watery eyes. “Why do you have to do that?” Adara murmured more to herself than to him.
“Do what?” His tone was hard, clipped.
Looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes, Adara said, “Make me think there’s actually something in you worth fighting for, then tear it all down.”
He frowned, the impassive mask falling away. He looked hurt.
Good. She wanted him to hurt as much as he’d hurt her.
The emotion written on his face disappeared as quickly as it came. Dominic stared back at her, unmoving. Fury bubbled inside her. After all they’d been through, the least he could do was give her some answers that weren’t always so damn cryptic.Give her a reason behind all his wicked schemes so she could justify the way her soul reached out to him.
Adara whirled and closed the distance between them with three short strides. “How can you do it over and over again? You show me a glimpse of who you are deep down—of a person that’s not entirely heartless. You make me want to trust you with all that’s hurt me, claiming I won’t fight alone, but then it’s you that I’m fighting!” She jabbed him in the chest with an accusatory finger, right where that jagged scar lay beneath his green tunic. “How can you look at me withnothingin your eyes after all we’ve been through?” Her voice rose as she went on, unable to control the rising panic and anger. The dungeons of the Shadow Empire flashed in her mind. It was like she was back there all over again—weak, fighting for her life, desperate to be seen or heard, constantly grappling to differentiate between what was real and what wasn’t.
Her eyes could not be trusted, for they could be deceived by magic. Her ears could not be trusted, for words could be filled with lies. She couldn’t trust people’s actions, for they could all be a machination to lure her to her demise.
Adara could only trust her instincts and the fire within, gifted by the gods. And it told her it needed to be let out, to scream and rage at him.
