A_Shadow_in_the_Ember_Amazon

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  Threatening to claw out his eyes and actually stabbing him in the chest weren’t examples of speaking my mind, but I wisely didn’t share that thought.

  “And I didn’t accost you. I may be a lot of things…” He strode forward with the warning. “But I am not that.”

  I opened my mouth, but all words left me when he neared the shallower end of the lake. I stared. Gods help me, I couldn’t take my eyes away from him as he climbed the earthen steps to the shore. It wasn’t his rear that snagged my attention. Though I did see that. I shouldn’t have, and I should’ve turned away right then because that made me a hypocrite of the highest order—being inappropriate went both ways. But I didn’t. What I did see of his ass was…well, it was as well-formed as everything else I shouldn’t have seen.

  But it was the ink sprawling across the entire length of his back from the upper swells of his rear all the way to the edges of his hair that I couldn’t look away from. In the center of his back was a circular, twisted swirl that grew larger, lashing out to form the thick tendrils I’d seen reaching around his waist to flow along the insides of his hips. There wasn’t nearly enough light for me to make out what made up the swirling design, but I had never seen any sailor with a tattoo like his. Again, my curiosity stirred. “What kind of tattoo is that?”

  “One that is inked into the skin.” He started to turn toward me, and I quickly averted my eyes. “You should get dressed. I won’t look. I promise.”

  I peeked at him, finding that he’d turned away from the lake and held what appeared to be a pair of black breeches that I truly had not seen upon my arrival. My gaze shot to my pile of clothing. I couldn’t stand here forever and question him.

  I charged through the water, my eyes trained on his shoulders as he bent. Reaching the damp shore, I grabbed my slip and pulled it over my head. It only reached an inch or two past my thighs, but it was the quickest option, and the last thing I wanted to do was force my breasts into the bodice of the damn gown in front of him.

  I picked up my sheathed blade—

  “I do hope you aren’t planning something foolish with that blade.”

  I turned to him, my irritation spiking when I saw that he still had his back to me. Obviously, he wasn’t worried at all about what I would do with it.

  “I haven’t been the one issuing threats, so I would hope not.” He faced me then, a smirk fixed on those well-formed lips. He stood there, the flap of his breeches undone, still wearing no shirt. I was positive he could’ve finished dressing. His fingers made quick work of the flap of his breeches. “You should unsheathe that blade.”

  My brows lifted at the unexpected request. “Do you want me to use this one on you, too?”

  He laughed again. “Are you always this violent?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that. But, no, I do not want you to use it on me,” he replied. “We’re not alone.”

  Leafy branches rattled, shook by a sudden burst of high wind. I tightened my grip on the dagger as I looked up. The limbs had stilled, but there was a sound, a low moan that came from deep within the woods.

  Ash bent once more, retrieving a scabbard. Gripping the silver hilt, he withdrew the short sword I’d seen him use before.

  Seeing it reminded me of what I’d thought when he first used it. “Why do you carry a sword?”

  He looked over at me. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You’re a god. Do you really need a sword?”

  Ash eyed me. “There is all manner of things that I can do and try,” he said. Something about his tone and the intensity in his stare made my skin even warmer. “Things I’m sure you’d find as equally interesting as I find your bravery.”

  I sucked in an edgy breath as his words made me think of those damn books in the Atheneum. The illustrated ones.

  “But just because I can do something, doesn’t mean I should,” he finished, snapping me out of my wayward thoughts.

  My gaze shifted to the shadowy tree line and then back to him. A god with limitations? Interesting.

  “We are about to have company,” he said, and I blinked. “I don’t believe they will be nearly as entertaining as you surely find me.”

  “I don’t find you entertaining,” I muttered, and that was a foolish lie the god didn’t even bother challenging. Who wouldn’t be entertained by a god or Primal, even one as annoying as he? “These woods are haunted. What we heard could just be spirits.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes. They like to moan and make all manner of obnoxious noises.” I sent him a frown. “Shouldn’t you know that, being that you’re from the Shadowlands?”

  Ash stared into the woods. “These are not spirits.”

  “No one enters these woods,” I reasoned. “It has to be a spirit.”

  “I entered these woods,” he pointed out.

  “But you’re a god.”

  “And what makes you think that what is coming is of your mortal realm?”

  I halted, my stomach hollowing.

  “I have a question for you. Are your spirits flesh and bone? The ones that haunt these woods?”

  My gaze flicked up. All I saw was the darkness among the elms. “No.” I turned to him. “Of course, not.”

  Ash lifted the sword, pointing the blade toward the trees. “Then what would you call these things?”

  “What things?” I leaned forward, squinting. There were only shadows, but then I saw something drifting out of the darkness between the elms, a figure cloaked in black. A nightmare.

  Chapter 11

  They almost looked mortal, but if they were once that, they weren’t anymore.

  Their skin held the waxy pallor of death, scalps bare of hair, eyes endless black pits, and mouths…they were all wrong. Their mouths were stretched too far across the cheeks as if someone had carved out a wider smile for them. And that mouth appeared sewn shut like the Shadow Priests.

  I unsheathed the blade. “What are they?” I whispered, quickly counting six of them.

  “Definitely not wayward spirits.”

  Slowly, I looked over at him. “No, really?”

  One side of his lips curved up. “They’re known as Gyrms,” he answered. “This type? They’re called Hunters.”

  This type? There were more of these things? I had never heard of such a creature. “Why would they be here?”

  “They must be looking for something.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  Ash spared me a glance. “That is a very good question.”

  My heart thumped erratically against my ribs as the Hunters stood there, staring at us—or at least that was what I thought. I couldn’t be sure with those holes for eyes. My stomach churned as the urge to run seized me.

  But I hadn’t run from anything since I was a child, and I wouldn’t start now.

  An unearthly moan filled the air once more, and the trees shuddered in response. The Hunters moved in unison, sweeping forward in a vee.

  Ash struck before I had a chance to respond, thrusting his sword through the back of one and into the chest of another, striking down two with one blow. The creatures made no sound, their bodies only spasming.

  “Gods,” I rasped.

  He looked over his shoulder as he pulled the sword free. “Impressed?”

  “No,” I lied, jerking back a step when the two recently impaled creatures collapsed into themselves. It was like they’d been drained of all moisture with a snap of a finger. They shriveled in a matter of seconds and then shattered into nothing but a fine dusting of ash that was gone before it hit the ground.

  “You should go home.” Ash moved forward, sword at his side. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  The remaining creatures continued forward, hands reaching around to their backs. They unsheathed swords with shadowstone blades.

  Ash moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, with a skill I doubted most mortals could acquire with years of training. He spun, sweeping his sword in a wide arc,
slicing through the neck of one of the creatures.

  There was no spray of red, no iron-rich scent clogging the air. There was only the smell of…stale lilacs. The scent reminded me of something. Not that poor seamstress, but—

  One of the creatures swung its sword, and Ash twisted, meeting the blow. The blades clanged with a force that must have shaken them both.

  Ash laughed as he stared the Hunter down. “Nice. But you should’ve known you’d have to try harder.” He pushed the creature back, but the thing quickly regained its footing and charged at the same moment another lurched forward.

  I should actually listen to him this time, but I couldn’t just stand there or leave him to be stabbed in the back. These Hunters had shadowstone blades. If their aim was slightly better than mine had been, they could kill him.

  My bare feet glided over the damp grass as I shot forward, shifting the dagger in my hand without much conscious thought. The Hunter took aim, preparing to plunge his sword deep into Ash’s back. Having no idea if iron would work on such a creature, I slammed the hilt of the blade into the back of its skull. The crack of iron meeting bone twisted my stomach as the creature stumbled backward, lowering the sword.

  But it did not fall like expected. And I’d hit him hard enough to put the thing to sleep for the night—or the week. Dumbfounded, I watched it turn to face me. Its head cocked to the side, and a low moaning sound reached me, coming from the thing’s throat and sealed mouth.

  It stalked toward me.

  “Dammit,” I whispered, jumping back as it swung out with the sword.

  “Did I not tell you to go home?” Ash bit out. “That this does not concern you?”

  “You did.” I ducked under the creature’s arm.

  “I have it handled.” Ash cleaved through the midsection of another Hunter. “Obviously.”

  “Then I guess I should’ve allowed him to stab you in the back?” I grabbed the creature’s sword arm and twisted, spinning him away from me. “A thank you would’ve been sufficient.”

  “I would’ve said thank you.” Ash wheeled around, shoving his sword deep into another creature’s chest. The scent of stale lilacs smacked me in the face. “If there was a reason to do so.”

  “You sound ungrateful.”

  “Well, you would know what ungrateful sounds like,” Ash shot back. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Another Hunter came at me, weapon lowered. I kicked out, catching him in the stomach as I eyed the sword he held.

  “On second thought, thank you for doing that,” he said, and I glanced over at him. My breath caught at the inexplicable and somewhat idiotic tug in my stomach and then lower when I saw the heated intensity in his stare.

  There was definitely something very, very wrong with me.

  “Please continue to fight in just a…well, whatever you call that very flimsy piece of clothing,” he offered. “Is it distracting? Yes. But in the best possible way.”

  “Pervert,” I snarled, snapping forward as the creature lifted its sword.

  Ash spun toward me. “What in the hell are you—?”

  I slammed the dagger blade into the Hunter’s wrist. Immediately, the creature’s hand spasmed open, releasing the sword. It fell to the ground, and I quickly dipped down to retrieve it. Straightening, I looked over, holding the sword in one hand and the dagger in the other. I smiled widely at him.

  He bit out a short laugh. “Well then, carry on.” He turned to the other creature. “Sever their heads or destroy their hearts. It’s the only way to put them down.”

  “Good to know.” I started toward the creature. The gaping wound on the Hunter’s wrist had already begun to close as the creature…smiled. Or at least tried to. The stitched gash of a mouth lifted as if it were about to grin—

  The stitches split, and its mouth tore open. Thick, ropey tendrils spilled out of the gaping hole—

  Serpents.

  Oh, gods. Horror locked up every muscle in my body and sent my heart pounding. Snakes were the one thing that truly terrified me, nearly to the point of loss of rational thought. I couldn’t help it. And serpents inside a mouth? That was a whole new nightmare.

  The serpents wiggled and hissed, stretching out from the Hunter’s mouth as he lurched forward. There was no time to back away to avoid whatever gruesome injury this thing could inflict, or worse yet, be touched by one of the serpents. If that happened, I’d surely die. My heart would fail, right here.

  Lifting the sword, I thrust the blade deep into the Hunter’s chest. The creature jerked back, the serpents going limp before he began to shrivel, shrinking and collapsing into himself until nothing remained in that space.

  “Are you okay?” Ash demanded, stalking toward me. “Did any of those serpents bite you?”

  The sword I held collapsed into ash, startling me. “No. None of them bit me.”

  “Are you okay?” he repeated, stopping.

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure about that?” Ash asked, and I dragged my gaze from the ground to look over at him. Something about his features had softened. “You don’t appear all that okay.”

  “I—” Something smooth and dry touched my foot. I looked down, spotting the long, narrow body slithering through the grass. “Snake!” I shrieked, my blood turning to ice as I pointed at the ground. “Snake!”

  “I can see it.” Ash lifted his sword. “Get away from it. The bite will be toxic.”

  I couldn’t get away from it quick enough.

  Throwing myself back, my foot came down on a slick patch of exposed rock, and my leg slid right out from under me. I went down fast, too stunned to stop my fall—

  A crack of sudden, blinding pain reverberated across the back of my skull, and then there was simply nothing.

  I took a small breath and then a deeper one. A tantalizing, fresh, citrusy scent teased me.

  Ash.

  I blinked open my eyes.

  His features were fuzzy at first, but slowly, the striking lines and angles became clearer. His face was above mine, thick strands of hair hanging forward, resting against his cheeks. I focused on the indentation in his chin, seeing now that it was definitely not a natural occurrence. What could leave a scar on a god? My gaze shifted to his mouth, to the very well-formed lips. He was…

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

  His eyes widened slightly, and then thick lashes swept down halfway. “Thank you.”

  A slew of words detailing exactly how beautiful I thought he was formed on the tip of my tongue as the haze cleared from my thoughts…

  Had I seriously just told him that he was beautiful? I had.

  Gods.

  The Mistresses of the Jade had said that men enjoyed flattery, but I didn’t think my artless gushing was what they’d meant. Not that I needed to seduce this god. I would have to pretend that it’d never happened. I looked over his shoulder to the star-blanketed sky. We were still by the lake, and I was lying on the grass. Kind of. My head was elevated, resting on his thigh. Everything but my heart stilled. That started galloping like a wild horse.

  “I have to admit, though,” he said, drawing my eyes back to him, “I’m worried you hit your head harder than I believed. That was the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”

  “Maybe I did damage something.” It almost felt that way because a part of me still couldn’t believe that he was actually here. “Where’s my blade?”

  “Right beside you, to your right and within arm’s reach.”

  I turned my head. I could make out the shape of the dark gray blade in the grass. I started to sit up.

  He placed his hand on my shoulder, beside the thin strap of the slip, and a soft whirl of energy rippled down my arm. “You should lay still for a few more moments,” he said. “You weren’t out long, but if you did do some damage, you’re going to be toppling right back over if you move too quickly.”

  What he advised made sense. I’d once taken a nasty hit to the head during training and had been knocked out. Healer
Dirks had recommended the same thing. That’s why I didn’t move.

  It had absolutely nothing to do with how all parts of me focused on the weight of his hand and the coolness of his skin. His fingers were the only bit that touched the bare skin of my shoulder, but it felt like…more. And that was silly. But sometimes I wondered if I were truly worthy of touch.

  My brows knitted. “Why are you still here?”

  “You were injured.”

  “So?”

  His expression changed then, his gaze sharpening and lips thinning. “You really must not think very highly of me if you think I would just leave you here.”

  It wasn’t only because he was a god—well, that did surprise me a little—but I could count on one hand how many people would’ve remained. I shifted a bit, uncomfortable with that truth.

  A moment passed. “How are you feeling? Does your head hurt, or do you feel sick at all?”

  “No. There’s just a slight ache, that’s all.” I shifted my gaze from his. “I can’t believe I…I knocked myself out.”

  “Well, I don’t think you did it all alone. The serpent played a role in it.”

  I shuddered, closing my eyes. “I hate snakes.”

  “I never would’ve guessed that,” he remarked dryly. “Did they do something terrible to you in the past? Other than keeping the pest population at bay?”

  My eyes snapped open at the teasing edge to his tone. “They slither.”

  “That’s all?”

  “No. They slither, and they’re fast, even though they have no limbs. You never know they’re there until you almost step on them.” I was on a roll now. “And their eyes… They’re beady and cold. Serpents are not to be trusted.”

  One side of his lips lifted. “I’m sure they feel the same way about you.”

  “Good. Then they should stay away.”

  That half-grin remained. “Though these types of snakes were far from normal.”

  The image of the Hunter resurfaced, and acid bubbled in my stomach. “I…I’ve never seen anything like that.”