Adara glanced at the vial in her hand again. “On second thought, drinking poison wouldn’t be so bad if it meant I wouldn’t be around you.” She liked to see the ire that flared in his eyes when she insulted him. It meant there was something more than an abyss within him. It meant there were emotions trapped behind that cruel mask. Emotions she could manipulate.
Dominic’s hand slid over hers, lifting the vial. His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Then I’ll find some way to die and meet you in Helfarrow so you can never escape me.”
“Oh, please, I’m already in my own personal Hel with you on the throne.” If Belor was the ruler of Helfarrow, Dominic was the next closest thing in the land of the living, with his ruthless, pristine smile and those alluring emerald irises that made her never want to take her eyes off him, even though she knew his hands were drowning in blood. She could practically taste it as his touch lingered, featherlight on her lips.
How many people had he killed? How many had died with love in their hearts for him that he never returned?
“If this is some sort of trick, I’ll kill you, Nite.” An empty threat, and they both knew it. But at least voicing their hatred could keep them somewhat sane in one another’s presence.
Adara tossed her head back and downed the contents in the vial. She grimaced at the awful taste. Bitter and disgusting and a tad sour. She strode across the small room to a mirror on the wall. Her hair was completely brown, not a single red strand in sight. Pulling aside her cloak, she inspected her unmarked chest, where the black flame she’d been born with should have been. She assumed the tattoo of flaming wings on her back was gone too.
“How long will the effects last?” she asked.
“Forever.”
Her eyes flared, and her heart stuttered in shock.No, that couldn’t be. Those tattoos, that hair, it made her who she was. They were a reminder of her friends and family, her home. Those markings were gifts from the gods. Tokens from many treacherous battles and complicated decisions. The flame on her chest . . . That was the brand of the Flamecarriers. He couldn’t take that away from her. He couldn’t strip away all that she was. It was what made her Adara Rhyes. It was a reminder of what she fought for every day. Of what she would continue to fight for until her final breath. He would not take that from her.
She wouldn’t let him.
In a flash, Dominic’s head whipped to the side. The force of the punch left her knuckles aching, but she didn’t care. She lunged for him. Something slammed, and she realized it was the door—she must not have latched it—when they collided with it as she tackled him to the ground. The wood shook beneath them as they rolled onto the main deck until Dominic was beneath Adara, her legs straddling him. He gasped, breath knocked out of him. Pinned beneath her knees, his arms struggled against her weight. She only pushed down harder, bones digging into his skin as she unsheathed the dagger at her forearm, and held it to his throat.
She felt the weight of the Andreilians’ eyes, but that wouldn’t quell her rage. “You better find a way to fix thisright now,”she said through gritted teeth. Her grip on the dagger was so tight that her knuckles turned white, fingers aching.
Dominic writhed beneath her, chest heaving for breath. Good, let him suffer for wiping away all that she was.
No, he wasn’t gasping for breath. He wasn’t trying to fight against her at all.
Dominic lay there on the ground, shoulders shaking, a smile on his face. His head tipped back, but not to avoid the blade at his throat.
Dominic Nite waslaughing.He waslaughingat her.
It took all her will not to strangle him right there. Not to take that empty vial of potion she drank, crush it in her hand, and shove the broken shards of glass down his open mouth, watching his laughter turn into a bloody coughing fit as the pieces shredded his throat.
“I’m–” His words died in his throat as he coughed.
She relaxed a little, slightly raising her weight off his chest so he could breathe. She wouldn’t move all the way, not yet. Not when he still had explaining to do. Not until she decided she wouldn’t severely maim him.
“I’m joking,” he finally got out. “It’ll last a week, at most.”
Adara bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming at him as she rose to her feet. As soon as Dominic made a move to get up, Adara dug her boot into his chest, forcing him back to the floor. He grunted as his back dug into the wood.
“You’re lucky I didn’t slit your throat,” she snarled.
A smirk made its way onto his face. Before she could register what that sinister smile meant, his hands were around her ankle, yanking it out from under her. She fell hard, the side of her face slamming into the wood, teeth singing. The dagger clattered away from her hand.
She had no time to recover before Dominic was on top of her. With one hand, he pinned both of hers above her head. The other clutched her own dagger at her throat. He leaned down toward her. His breath was so close it fogged the steel that bit into her neck. His lips—still wearing that mocking smile—were mere inches from her own, close enough that she’d barely have to move to feel the slightest brush of them.
“I’d like to see you try,” he said.
Her breath hitched as his green eyes flickered down to her lips, then back up to her eyes.
Utterly at his mercy, she couldn’t tell if he was about to kiss her or kill her.
She hated it.
Hated how her heart raced, and she didn’t know if it was out of fear or excitement. She didn’t know if she’d have the will to stop him, no matter what he chose to do.
“Gross!” That odd feeling ebbed away as Caleb’s taunting voice cut through her thoughts, sobering her. “There are children present!” he shouted with a laugh.
