“Because it’smine,”I grit out, shadowed claws slashing suddenly through my chest, eliciting a gasp.
Niko’s eyes flicker to where the shadow looms, only for a moment, his gaze entirely unreadable. He has always been so enigmatic—always so adept at hiding his true thoughts beneath the smooth and ruthless exterior of the Carrion King—but it has never felt as unbearable as it does now.
Is he seeing the true horror of me and realizing I am far more terrible than he thought? Is he finally understanding I deserve nothing good?
He makes a humming noise in the back of his throat, and in another step, his chest is nearly touching mine. The movement is so familiar—the dance, the magnetic push and pull between us—that I almost fall into him reflexively. I clench my fists, as with each breath, I’m inundated by the scent of winter; the scent ofhim.It dizzies my thoughts, scatters the rhythm of my heart.
“You once asked me who I truly am, Willa, and now I challenge you to the same.”
His voice is silk as it wraps around me as surely as his death. This close, the beauty of Niko rends straight through my resolve. The dark shadow of stubble against his snow-white skin; the lush curve of his wicked mouth; the sharply carved angles of his face.
“You will not give Letum up to me, but you have allowedhimto take pieces of what belongs to you.” Niko’s face is as cruelly edged as his words. His death spirals out from him, sending three stone branches shattering to the floor, but I cannot seem to tear my gaze away from his. “You have allowedhimto destroy what you’ve built, brick by brick.”
The air rushes from my lungs as Niko’s words hit me square in the chest.I haven’t built anything,I want to say.I’ve only ruined it.But the plea sticks in my throat, as Niko raises a hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“You will not allow me the decency of a conversation and yet, you allowhimthe power to make you question your right to the throne.” Niko lets out a ruthless laug. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered that you consider me more of a threat to your kingdom than that ageless fiend of misery.”
“Youarethe most dangerous threat, Niko.” The words are out of my mouth before I can temper them, breathless, like merely the act of allowing them space is impossibly exerting. “And it has nothing to do with the kingdom.”
It’s the most honest thing I’ve said to him since he returned; maybe the most honest thing I’ve said to anyone.
His obsidian eyes glitter, and his tongue darts out to run over his lower lip like he’s tasting the way my words have landed. “How so?”
My shadow presses down against my shoulders as the heat of regret washes over my face. I know better than to show Niko a weakness—know exactly how dangerous, exactly howaddicting,it is—and here I am, laying down and exposing my throat. Ithought my want of death ended when I achieved the power I’ve always craved, but in the Carrion King’s presence, it seems to be less of a want and more of a primal need.
And I know far too well what happens when I give into it.
I wrench out of his touch, like if I put enough space between us to breathe something that isn’t him, I’ll somehow regain hold of my senses.
But Niko is faster. His fingers and ribbons alike wind around my wrists, pulling me to his chest.
“Running so soon, Darling?” hetsks.“I thought you abandoned your cowardly ways.”
His chest caresses mine with each of his ragged breaths, the fathomless depths of his eyes sparking with that mad obsession I feel in my blood. His fingers are a hot brand around my wrist, warring with the ice of his death as one of his ribbons slides up my arm. Something between a moan and a whimper escapes me, and unbidden, my lashes flutter in pleasure.
My fingers curl into the silk of his shirt as newfound panic envelops me, and I don’t know whether I mean to draw him closer or push him away. “Niko,” I say in a low voice, both a warning and a plea.
The corner of his mouth slides into a cruel grin as his fingers loosen on my wrist. They trail up my arms alongside his ribbons, both of his elegant hands coming to rest on the delicate arches of my collarbones.
“Tell me what you meant by that, Willa.” A whispered demand that has my body arcing toward him.
I want to tell him everything—my worry, and loneliness, and failure. I want to lay it all at his feet as I once would have, and take comfort in the knowledge that of everyone in the universe, Niko would understand my burden.
But with my shadow pressing down upon me, suddenly, I can’t bear it. The weight of my longing, the heat of his obsession. I have already shattered beneath it once—I cannot do it again.
Niko tilts his head, seeming to read my sudden fear. His mouth pulls into a disdainful grimace. Shame burns in my stomach, and bile rises in my throat as I put my hands flat against his chest to push him away.
I don’t get far.
A breathy gasp escapes me, as Niko wraps his fingers around my throat and drags my gaze back to his. His expression should be terrifying, but instead, it sends a new heat that has nothing to do with shame cascading through me. His grip is firm enough that when he gives me a gentle push, I cede a step.
Another, and then another, until my back hits the glass wall of the atrium and a small squeak of shock escapes me. Niko’s gaze snaps to my mouth, like the sound has only further incensed him; like he’ll devour it whole.
“What has happened to you?” he snarls, searching my face. He is close enough now to trace the small scar dissecting his upper lip with my eyes and remember the way it felt to trace it with my tongue.
When I don’t answer, Niko makes a noise of frustration in the back of his throat and tightens his fingers. “Where is that beautiful violence coursing through your veins? Where is the woman who held the King of Carrion at her mercy with a dinner fork? The woman who would never cede an inch to anyone?”
He pins his knee between my legs, wedging them open and pressing his body into the cradle of my hips. “Where is my queen?”
