In the midst of this heaven-hell, as he rode the highest peaks of passion in that blurred surrender only orgasms know, a single word whispered itself to him, precious and potent.
It was her name. Her true name.
Gods help me, he thought, his senses thunderstruck and scattered. It’s so beautiful.
It was perfect.
Caliban slowly lowered his head as he floated down from that ragged ledge of impossible ecstasy. His body shuddered, spent and strange. He felt different now, as he never had before.
He blinked his eyes open and gazed down at his queen. His heart did a flip in his chest and settled into an erratic rhythm. She gazed up at him as well, with a blue-white heat – the hottest kind of fire of all – in flames that otherwise mirrored his own.
Caliban felt his magic ebb and flow around them, mingling with hers like water colors on a wet canvas. They were one in the truest sense now. He had absorbed her power – and she, his.
“I…” her voice was scratchy from screaming, and she smiled winsomely as she cleared her throat and tried again. Her fingertips brushed a lock of his hair from his forehead. The gentlest touch.
“I think… I know your name,” she said hesitantly.
He smiled as something filled his chest, something he didn’t recognize but that he desperately wanted to keep feeling for the rest of his days. “And I, yours.”
She blinked, briefly shutting out that blue-white fire, before her smile became hopeful and small, and the flames flickered lazily. “Keep it a secret?” she asked.
That strange sensation that had been entering his chest suddenly exploded inside of him, expanding to the farthest reaches of his soul, filling up every shadow and replacing it with hope. He knew what it was now. And he knew he would die a thousand deaths at the hands of the most terrible evils before he let that feeling go.
He would never let her name be heard aloud. It was his to protect forever.
“Always.”
The Shadow King
The Kings, Book Seven
Every bone in Keeran’s supernatural body was at odds with his logical mind. His body, his instincts, were telling him to just take his queen, show her what she had been missing, and give her back her power ten-fold.
But his mind reminded him that would be a disastrous mistake. You didn’t take advantage of the ones you cared about. That was enough of a reason. But also, there was no karma like a woman’s.
She wasn’t in any kind of position to fight him on this at the moment, and yet she stood there like a quaking tower of stubbornness and railed against him. She had no idea how close to being utterly lost she was. She was stalwart as hell, gorgeous like a nightmare, and she was driving him over the cliff side with every passing second.
She’s a queen. What did you expect?
His inner voice reasoned with him, and because he was a man and not a boy, he listened. Somehow, with some kind of willpower he’d had no idea he possessed, he pressed on. But he could tell she was close to tears. Her eyes were luminous with them in their unshed state. She no doubt felt like utter shit. And that hurt. It hurt him to see her suffer.
The iron in the ground beneath her feet couldn’t be helping. It was probably tingling quite uncomfortably right about now.
Shit, he thought. I’m an asshole.
But he had his reasons for bringing her here. It had gotten her attention. Now if she would just hear him out and do as he said! Things had come to a head, and he’d picked the absolute worst time to put his cards on the table, but he was out of time now. That was just it. It was now or never.
She needs to know who and what she is. She needs to know she’s my queen.
She stared at him hard, her features perfect, her eyes burning. Her white teeth were clenched in discomfort and rage, and her hands were curled at her sides. “Tell me something, Pitch. How is it you think you know so much about what I’m feeling right now?”
The reason for that was one of the few truths he wasn’t quite ready to tell her just then. Those secrets, the secrets D’Angelo had sensed in him, swam just beneath the very dark surfaces of Keeran’s consciousness. There would be need to address them. But not now. Not here. There were enough other difficult truths to work through first.
“I know dark magic,” he admitted, deciding that was close enough. “And I know what it does to the body. You have to trust me on this, Violet.”
“Why?!” she suddenly yelled, screaming the word at the tops of her lungs. She’d lost control. This was it. A new wind started up, stronger than the one that had already been breezing through the arched rock formations around them. Keeran’s gaze narrowed.
“Why do you even care?!” she demanded.
The wind howled now, and several loose pebbles on a nearby formation skittered across the rock before tumbling to the earth below.
Keeran gave them a wary glance, then turned that wary gaze on Violet. She was doing something. She was supposed to be completely out of magic, and yet she was doing something without even knowing it. Something magical.
Something bad.
“Violet, calm down.”
“No! Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! I hate it when people say that! As if it solves everything! As if you can just fucking erase emotion on request! When people are upset, it’s for a fucking reason! You can’t erase the reason, damn it! You calm down! And why should I, anyway? You kept me from my sister and now you won’t tell me anything! You’re one of the thirteen fucking kings and you have all your goddamned secrets and now one of you is dead and all the gargoyles are dead and nobody will tell me what the hell is going on! Why do you care so much about what I do?!”
Keeran slowly turned as something cracked loudly behind him. It was a horrid sound, full of portent and impossibility. The largest arch in the park, prominent against the night-time sky, was trembling.
It’s cracked. She’s going to tear this place apart.
Even with the iron in the ground and her body an empty vessel to magic, she was a force to be reckoned with. What could he possibly do? Think, Keeran, damn it! Think!
“Take it out on me,” he suddenly said, turning back around to face her. “If you want to tear me apart, then do it. Come and get me, Violet. I’m the one you’re mad at, so give me your best shot!”
He was prepared for her to scream at him, perhaps rail some more, let loose with some more blustering wind, but he should have known better. He should have remembered that he’d been instantly impressed with everything about her – from her magic to her bravery to her mind to her body to her very aura – from the very first moment he laid eyes on her in the Underground. He’d felt that way for a reason.
But he didn’t remember. And he paid for it when he was suddenly blasted with a hot, hard shot of magic so fierce, it knocked him off his feet and sent him flying backward to slam full-force into the already-compromised red stone arch.
It made another cracking sound, this one more final.
Keeran was stunned for a moment, but a few seconds at most, before he was up again and using the shadows around the arch to facilitate his magic. He gave the shadows substance and strength and used that strength to hold the arch in place. Then he turned back to his wayward bride.
“How was that, your majesty? Still want more?” she asked, “‘Cuz I’ve got it for you!”
Keeran held up his hands, but had no time to mutter a sound before she was letting loose with yet another powerful blast. This time, he knew what to expect, and he headed the damn thing off by transporting from one location to another in the blink of a shadow-filled second.
He vanished from where he was standing just as the powered-up air slammed into it, scooted past, and hit the tortured arch a second time. He rematerialized a few feet behind his unknowing queen just in time to see and hear the arch rock back and forth like a falling dinosaur.
At once, he was reaching out with his power to again steady the arch, this time breaking the shadows up into long, thin lines of thread t
hat he wove through the rock to “sew” it into place, locking it hard and fast. The arch would now have strings of black rock running through it, forever changed – but it was better than having the monument fall completely.
As he worked, he moved up behind Violet, and when she finally realized he was standing behind her and turned to face him, he moved in.
He slid his arm around her waist, yanked her up against him – and kissed her hard.
Shadows exploded in his mind. That was what it felt like, what it seemed like. It was as if all this time, he’d been filled with a darkness he was so used to, he’d forgotten it was even there. In an instant, as he claimed her lips with his own and pried her passion from her with ruthless demand, that darkness detonated like a pile of black leaves torn asunder by the wind. At its tattered edges, the world sparkled like the pixie dust he’d made for her.
And it tasted like pixie dust too.
He’d only meant to give her back a touch of her own magic, to give her through that kiss through that tiny sexual act, just enough strength that she would be able to actually listen to him. He just wanted her to see that Lovelace’s rage was taking over her and forcing her to pull more power out of the very ground upon which she stood. That’s what she had been doing; she’d been stealing power from the earth, from the universe.
That’s how powerful Lovelace was, even from the grave, even after all this time.
But what he had originally meant to do flew from his mind just like the darkness, and in its place, something else moved in. At first, there was resistance on her part. In the few tense seconds after he’d pulled her into his embrace, Violet stiffened in his arms, her lips plump and yielding, but her body and mind clearly shocked and confused by his actions.
A few seconds. Maybe one, maybe two.
And then everything changed.
*****
She was burning up. He had been right about the rage of Wolfram’s magic; it had infused her blood stream like a slow licking fire, singing her from the inside out. It made her twitchy, it made her shake, and it made her lose control. She’d attacked a king. There was no going back now. She’d probably be killed for this.
But no, Violet, you’re not thinking straight. Keeran doesn’t want to kill you. He gave you that necklace, remem –
But she didn’t listen, couldn’t listen, to the tiny, miniscule, insignificant voice of reason inside of her. She bullied it back into the corner it kept wanting to crawl out of and let loose with another attack. She was barely aware of what she was saying. It was coming out of her mouth like music notes painted red. The whole world seemed to be painted red, in fact. And it was moving in strange stop-motion scenes, disjointed and crazy.
And underneath it all, like the insidious undercurrent that it was, there was pain. This fury – it hurt. From the way it fire-cracked her limbs and fingers to the way it boiled in her veins, it filled her with a kind of agony. Deep down, she was terrified. She’d lost control, her body was on fire, and she was on the edge. The only place left to go was over it.
The stripped-down core of it was that she was afraid she was going to die.
And that was perhaps the worst pain of all.
But then the Shadow King vanished before her second attack, and her magic wound up slamming into the arch behind him. She heard a footfall and spun to face him. But before she could ready another attack, he was moving again.
The way he moved this time made her think of ghosts, black and wispy and immaterial. He flashed from where he’d been standing a few feet away, and suddenly, in a single frantic heartbeat, he was directly in front of her. Touching her, towering over her.
Shadowing her.
She inhaled a quick gasp of surprise before she was pulled hard into his arms, and he was slanting his mouth over hers in a fierce kiss.
At once, the pain and fury within her went white-washed. It was so hot, it seared – but the wash was also one of cold, one of relief, like a wet rag on a fevered forehead or a stream of cold water on a burn. For the first time in the last hour, there was a split moment in which Violet had the ability to think.
But that moment of clarity was hastily slaughtered by the influx of pleasure brought on by the Shadow King’s relentlessly devouring kiss. She’d never felt anything like it. It was so fast, so hard, so demanding. He pried her teeth apart and tasted of her deeply, and she heard herself moan against him as stars exploded in her vision, and every one of her nerve endings betrayed her.
She welcomed it as she had never welcomed anything.
Like a mad, wonderful dream, she craved it. Like air. Like life. This single thing, this crazy, inexplicable moment, was the only thing that could rescue her from herself.
But at what cost?
Her inner voice again, that tiny mumbling little thing that waited silently in the corners of her mind and recognized danger when she refused to. She felt a warm rush travel through her belly and slide inexorably lower, and the voice said, You’ll be rescued from yourself only to fall victim to HIM.
She didn’t care. Gods help her, she didn’t care! The fury was so horrible, and Keeran Pitch felt so fucking good! He tasted like darkness, new and different like clean rain and promises. That new and different darkness exuded from him, and through his kiss, it entered her as well, freeing her from the terrifying bonds of Lovelace’s hold.
But he’s a king. You attacked him. And he still hasn’t told you anything.
Damn that voice. It joined in with her residual anger and made it stronger. She felt it rising again now, ready to fight back, ready to re-claim her, and she found herself clinging to Keeran’s leather jacket. No! Save me!
As if he understood all too well what was happening – as if he truly did have some magical way of knowing what the ancient warlock’s magic was doing to her – Keeran shoved his hand through her hair, fisted it hard, and deepened the kiss with wanton abandon.
She felt something scrape her lip, and confusion joined in with the warring emotions already wreaking havoc inside her. She tasted blood and knew it was her own. But then her boots left the earth; they were moving through the shadows now. The iron in the ground was finally gone, and the spaces within her body where pain at last vacated were rapidly flooded with mounting need.
Keeran growled low against her lips, a deep unnatural sound that in the back of Violet’s muddled mind, she could have sworn she’d heard somewhere before. It was animalistic and powerful, and it made her breasts ache.
It made a lot of things ache.
The sound passed through her like a shockwave, primal and fundamental, touching every part of her as it went. Her skin broke out in goose bumps, her fingers curled into the leather of his jacket, and her nipples hardened into tiny nubs against the inside of her bra. Her legs, which had been held up by sheer anger alone only moments before, were suddenly weak in the knees, but he held her easily against him.
When her strength gave out entirely, he only lifted her against him and deepened the kiss, as if going in for a kill.
I’m going to die either way.
She was laid upon something soft and cool, and even though her eyes were shut tight, she could feel that darkness stretched long and deep all around them. She could feel it… as if it were fast becoming a part of her.
She welcomed it. She welcomed that darkness, even if it was her death. She threw open her inner doors and stepped aside and invited the darkness into her home.
*****
He knew why he’d really done it. He hadn’t even been thinking, just feeling, just needing. And he knew she needed too. When his lips touched hers, he immediately felt her frantic pull against him, her undeniable petition for salvation in the way she at once opened her lips to him and let him in.
She was hot to the touch, burning like a living, breathing vessel of fire. It bewildered him that she’d managed to hold on to her own sanity as long as she had. He could feel that Lovelace’s anger had infused nearly every part of her.
Every part but her
heart, which beat hard and strong and rapid-fire against his chest as he let himself claim her at last. She moaned against him, and his thoughts were shattered, no longer able to function with any sort of normality. His fangs ached in his gums and his vision shifted into the predatory grays he hadn’t seen in thousands of years.
His eyes were glowing; he could feel them hot in his head. Everything was coming back. Thrums of pleasure were whipping through him, bringing the long dormant animal in him back to life. He felt as if he were humming with electricity, sparks of it sizzling along his skin. The air around them felt charged, ready to make lightning.
She was surrendering to him, like a dream come true, so he surrendered to it all. It had been too long. And this was so very right – she was his queen.
His fangs exploded in his mouth, and one pricked her lip. A half-second later, he tasted her blood across his tongue, and his shades of gray tainted themselves red. A growl escaped his throat, long and low, as he moved them swiftly through the shadows. He wanted her in his bed. The alpha in him wanted her tied down in his bed – but that could wait for another day.
He tempted her tongue with his own, delving deep to taste as much of her as inhumanly possible. There was an answering hunger in her own kiss, in the way she pressed back against him with what little strength she had, and he recognized it well. There was a bit of animal within Violet as well. That darkness – it was there inside her like a lone she-wolf, keeping to the shadows, knowing and waiting, eyes glowing from the dark.
The beast within him wanted that wolf. He wanted her as his own.
At last he was in his chambers, pressing her body beneath him into the silken sheets of his massive, dark bed. He broke the kiss, just long enough to shrug off his jacket, but Violet’s fingers were curled into it, her swollen lips were red as roses, and her heavily lidded eyes were laden with lust – and he decided he’d wasted enough time.
In the Arms of the King Page 9