“There’s always a first time for everything, Sariah. Unless you’re the one disinterested in exploring this further.”
She gives me a quizzical look, but before she can answer and release the painful knot growing in my chest, a knock resounds from the other side of the door.
“Go away,” I holler, but the knocking grows insistent.
“For fuck’s sake, what?”
The door opens with a squeak as Mattya and Axel enter with stoic faces.
“Sir, it’s urgent, a prison…. errr, a p-prisoner…” Mattya stumbles over his words, his face reddening as he averts his gaze. Axel snickers, giving us one lingering look before setting his gaze on the far wall.
“The warriors brought in a prisoner. An onpyr that was caught outside of the city, hiding in the forest. Wounded, but not quite dead yet.”
“Alive enough for interrogation?” Sariah asks, clutching the sheet she grabbed to cover herself.
Axel nods, avoiding looking our way.
Good. If the screaming and moaning wasn’t enough to make a public claim, this is. Whatever foolish hopes they might have had regarding my little pixie should be thoroughly squashed right now.
Sariah belongs to me.
“Taken to the dungeons, I presume?” I ask while hopping out of bed, butt-naked.
“Y-yes, sir. Awaiting your o-orders,” Mattya stammers, his eyes widening at my bare form.
“Good. We’ll take it on from here. You may go.”
Their hurried steps echo through the stone hallway as they scramble to get away as fast as possible.
“This conversation is not over, moonlight. But we have a loose end on our hands, and I’m itching for retaliation.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I nod with a smirk. “It’s time to serve some torture.”
Chapter 24
Aimee
Iburnwithunkeptrageand disbelief, the mounting embers of the last months sparking into an open flame of violence that threatens to consume me and everything in its path.
My fists clench at my sides, buzzing with the need to strike the smug Goddess off her gleaming pedestal.
“I am not your friend, you conniving bitch,” I spit, each word scorching my tongue.
Killian approaches cautiously, wrapping an arm around my middle in a protective show of support.
“You might not remember it, shadow wielder, but we once were. All of us.” She sweeps her hand in a wide gesture toward the statues of the other Gods and I snort in dismay.
“I think the fuck not. I would never frolic with the likes of you—uncaring, implacable Gods with no regard for the beings of this realm.”
She ignores my retort as she descends from her dais, her silver hair dusting the marbled floor as she inclines her head at Killian in affable reverence.
“My liege,” she murmurs, her argent fangs glinting in the unnatural sconce light.
A tightening of his fingers around my hip is his only reaction; his mouth is set in a vigilant line.
“Don’t brush me aside, Ereshkygall. I will not be silenced so easily. You tried to kill us thrice for no reason at all,” I say, my voice cracking from the rising pressure of my anger. My shadows slither against my limbs in soothing circles, a comforting sensation meant to appease me when all I desire is to shake some sense of remorse into this stupid deity.
