This time, I don't let my shadows simply block him. As his blade arcs toward me, I step aside and let my shadows surge forward, wrapping around his sword arm and yanking him off balance.
He stumbles but recovers quickly, spinning to face me with better skill than I expected. Perhaps this won't be entirely boring after all.
"Malakai, please," Seraphina's voice cuts through the tension. Her distress pheromones flood the clearing, instinctively trying to calm two fighting males. "Let him go. I'll come with you willingly. I'll do whatever you want. I'll accept your claim. Tonight. No resistance."
"Whatever I want?" I raise an eyebrow, keeping my attention fixed on Asher even as her desperate offer sends heat through my veins. "A tempting offer, but I'm afraid it's too late for bargains. You see, I already know exactly what I want. I want to watch the light leave his eyes while you beg for his life. And then, when he's dead and his scent is gone from your skin, I want to claim you so thoroughly that you'll never even remember his name."
The shadows around me coalesce, darkening and hardening into something with substance and weight. I send them surging toward Asher in a wave, but he's quick, rolling aside with genuine grace.
"He's faster than he looks," I remark to Seraphina. "How long have you been seeing him? Was he waiting patiently each time you attended official functions? Did you laugh together about the monster of the Shadow Court?"
"It wasn't like that," she protests, anger momentarily overcoming her fear.
"No? Do enlighten me. I love a good royal romance story, especially when it ends in tragedy."
Asher launches himself at me again, but this time I'm done playing. My shadows whip out like tentacles, wrapping around his arms, his legs, his throat, lifting him off the ground. His sword clatters uselessly to the forest floor.
"Seraphina, run!" he chokes out, still struggling against my shadows.
She doesn't run. Instead, to my genuine surprise, she launches herself at me, a small dagger suddenly in her hand. My shadows should have warned me about the weapon, but they were too focused on the prince—a rare failure I'll address later. The blade slices across my cheek before I can fully dodge, and I feel the warm trickle of blood.
The scent of my blood in the air makes my instincts roar even louder. I touch the wound with my fingertips, looking at the red smear with something close to delight. My bride has claws.
"You'll be magnificent when I rut you properly," I say, grinning despite the sting. "All that fire, that fight—gods, you're going to be perfect."
My shadows respond to her attack, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, pinning her in place several feet away from me. Not hurting her—I need her intact for the ceremony—but immobilizing her completely. Her scent spikes with fury and fear, her mind strategizing escape even as her body fights the restraint.
"Now then," I turn my attention back to Asher, suspended in the air before me, his face purpling as my shadows tighten around his throat. "Where were we?"
"Don't," Seraphina's voice breaks on the word. "Please, I'm begging you."
"I know you are," I reply softly, breathing in her distress. "That's rather the point."
I release the pressure on Asher's throat just enough to let him gasp for air. I want him to be conscious for what comes next.
"You know, a lesser villain would simply strangle you and be done with it," I tell him. "But where's the artistry in that?"
I circle him slowly, my shadows holding him suspended and spread-eagled in midair.
"You're insane," Asher manages to gasp.
"No, I'm efficient," I correct. "And creative. Two qualities that are sadly underappreciated."
I glance at Seraphina, who has gone very still, her golden eyes huge with terror. She's beautiful even now—especially now—with fear making her skin luminous and her chest heaving with each panicked breath.
"I want you to watch this very carefully," I tell her, my voice dropping to a dark purr. "Consider it your first lesson in what happens to those who take what's mine."
I return my attention to Asher, extending my hand toward him. My shadows respond, some holding him in place while others begin to gather around his head.
"Did you know," I say, keeping my voice light and instructional, "that shadows can move through any space? No matter how small or tightly sealed?"
The shadows begin to curl around Asher's face, tendrils seeking entrance through his nose, his mouth, his ears. He tries to turn away, to hold his breath, but it's futile. The darkness is insistent, pressing forward.
Asher begins to convulse as my shadows force their way inside him.
"Stop! Please stop!" she screams, struggling against her bonds. "I love him!"
The words feed the cold rage that's been building since I discovered her absence. She loves him. This Light Court prince. This nothing.
