“Perhaps I'll cut out your tongue to match, and keep you from doing the same,” I answer sharply, the pain having rendered me momentarily thoughtless, unable to do more than squeeze my eyes shut.
An exasperated breath shoots out of Sam as he drops his head in his hands. I hardly have time to push my chair back from the table when Willa leaps from her seat, her body so close, I can smell the floral scent of her shampoo as she presses a metal fork into the soft juncture of my throat. Willa Darling is far deadlier than her small appearance indicates, as she’s positioned the tines of one fork directly above my artery, and another at the juncture of my legs. And indeed, her face is lethal as she presses both more firmly into my skin with a satisfied smile.
“Beg,” she spits, my blood heating at her husky tone. In fact, my whole body seems to have been lit on fire as I take in the threads of gold and green spiraling through her light brown eyes; the splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks; the tips of her fingers, just a hairsbreadth away from brushing my bared throat.
As all of her details sink beneath my skin and to the bones beneath, the agonizing pain that radiated through me only a moment before is now buried somewhere beneath the electricity of her nearness. My body sparks with it, and for the first time all morning, I’m able to take a full breath.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t stab you through the throat right now,” she snarls. Her eyes flicker to where the second fork digs into the leather seam of my trousers. “It’s going to have to be a good one,Your Majesty. I doubt those ribbons of yours can restrain me before I skewer your balls.”
My tongue darts out to wet my lower lip as I slowly open my legs, widening my stance. Inviting Willa and her fork closer, practically begging to see what she’ll do with the invitation.
Her mouth twists in fury. “You’re vile!”
I let out a ringing laugh. “I never claimed to be anything else,” I croon. “Did the very wind not whisper a warning to you the moment you stepped foot in Letum?”
Willa’s expression turns from fury to consternation, but she doesn’t move. And I’m grateful she doesn’t, comfortable as I am with her lithe, little body poised over mine. Comfortable beneath the ice and heat of her violent impulses—like the same vicious thing that colors my blood lives inside her, too.
“Death,” I purr. “Decay. Rot.” Willa’s eyes flare. “The Carrion King.”
Keeping perfectly still, I let my eyes rove from Willa’s arm, up to her shoulder and throat. “I’m told it’s painful—to decompose from the inside out.”
Her jaw tightens. “You’ll have to do better than a few shadowy parlor tricks to scare me, King.”
And indeed, there’s no fear in her eyes—or at least, not the kind I’ve come to expect from those that beg on their knees before me. It’s a different sort shining in the depths of her gaze,one I can’t place, but immediately intrigues me. What could this woman possibly fear more than death?
“Well, if dying a horrible death doesn’t scare you, perhaps the idea of being subjected to my presence for the rest of eternity will,” I tell her with a dark laugh. “Just as I am King of Death, I am also King of the entire realm. Including the wards that would lead you back home.”
I lift my chin, giving her better access to my throat. Careful not to touch her skin, just as she’s been careful not to touch mine. Like something in her has warned her away from drawing too close.
“Well, Darling, what’s it going to be? If you’re going to kill me, you might as well be quick about it. Let’s not ruin Sam’s breakfast.”
My friend grunts from behind me, under no apparent compulsion to come to my aid.
I watch the thoughts flit across her face, one after another, until something like acceptance settles there. Willa cannot kill me, or she’ll never find her way out of this forsaken kingdom.
“I want to go home,” she says tightly, digging the fork hard enough into my neck to draw blood. Her eyes drink in my reaction, waiting for a flinch of pain.
She doesn’t get it. What she does receive is a cruel smile at the yelp of horror that escapes her when she finally notices the color of the blood trickling down my throat: Not crimson, but the same abiding black as my eyes.
I run my tongue over my teeth wantonly, drinking in the shocked part of her lips with relish. My death clenches tighter around my wrists, but this time, I barely feel the pain. I only feelher: the radiant warmth of her skin, the soft brush of her hair against my chest. All of it soclose.
Close enough to consume me entirely.
I swallow roughly, drawing my gaze away from her mouth and my thoughts toward something far more manageable than Willa’s dizzying nearness—how I can leverage her presence to my advantage.
“What do you know of magic? Of stories and fairy tales?”
She doesn’t respond, her eyes still glued to the small dribble of blood now staining my skin like ink dripped over parchment. I expect to see her disgust, her terror, but I only find a frozen curiosity that has my rot-filled heart lurching in my chest.
“The island, the wards, the magic…they are all anchored tome.So, you see, I am the only one capable of granting your wish to go back to that plague-filled cesspool you call home. If I so pleased, I could keep you in Letum for eternity.”
Willa pales, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.
“But despite your first impression, I can be a merciful king.” I incline my head as much as I’m able without impaling myself on the fork. “You have my word, the wards will open,” Willa narrows her eyes warily, “ifyou help me first.”
“Your word means nothing to me,” she hisses.
I grin in delight. “Good to know you aren’t entirely daft.”
