Bright Wicked 2: Radiant Fierce (A Twilight Fae Fantasy Romance)

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Bright Wicked 2: Radiant Fierce (A Twilight Fae Fantasy Romance) Page 2

by Everly Frost


  She hits the mud, scrambles to her feet, and twists toward me.

  Despite the power flooding the space around me, she doesn’t give up, snarling as she bounds toward us again.

  “Stop!” I scream.

  My power hums at the same frequency as my shout—a sound it never made before—as it pulses across the clearing. Starlight brightens to blinding levels around my fingertips, a force growing in the air between me and the wolf like a shield.

  Still, she fights it. As powerful as my starlight is, I sense her determination and rage, her instincts fueled by a terrible animalistic loss, the most basic motivation to keep fighting even when the danger to herself is high.

  Revenge, Nathaniel had said. What did he do to cause this fierce creature so much pain?

  I vaguely register his voice. He’s lying very still beneath me, my power curving around him without touching him, but I can’t hear what he’s saying above the hum of starlight. The shield around us extends the length and width of his body.

  All that matters to me right now is that I’m not hurting him and the wolf can’t get to him.

  Snarling, she pushes through my glow, her movements slowing as my starlight increases until she’s forced to stop only inches away from my fingertips. She lowers her head, her forehead pressing valiantly against my light while her cerulean blue eyes pierce mine.

  I recognize the fight in her eyes. She’s willing to die right now if it means she can follow her instincts.

  I could easily extend my left hand, strike with starlight so powerful, it would melt her insides, but how can I destroy her?

  As I return her desperate glare, I take a deep breath, calming myself. Warmth flows from my chest down my arms and across my hands, changing the nature of my power from sharp and prickly to soothing and calming. It’s the same warmth I used to calm the sick girl yesterday morning—the same element of my power that I used to ease my brother, Evander’s, pain after Nathaniel fought him.

  “Be calm,” I whisper.

  The hum of my power changes, washing outward like flowing water over the wolf’s body.

  She jolts. Freezes. Her legs suddenly wobble.

  I lean farther forward as her legs buckle and she drops to her stomach in the mud, her limbs limp, but her head lifted, her eyes now revealing sudden panic. She won’t understand why her body isn’t obeying her, why she can’t keep fighting.

  I stare right back at her, increasing the flow of my power, filling it with the sort of warmth that would send her into a peaceful sleep. If she would let me.

  This time, I don’t speak aloud. Stop fighting.

  She whimpers in response to my silent command.

  Leaning as far across Nathaniel as I dare, I stretch out to press my forefinger against the wolf’s forehead.

  She trembles. Hard.

  “You will obey me,” I say.

  Growls tell me that the other wolves are recovering from the shock of my attack. I sense them pacing around the clearing, staying away from the starlight spilling around me. They’re smart enough not to try to breach the circle of light.

  The female wolf doesn’t seem to hear their growls. Her nose moves as she inhales, lifting to briefly touch my palm. Her fur is unexpectedly soft against my hand before she jolts backward, scrabbling through the sludge with all her might.

  Despite the threat she poses, I admire her spirit. She would prefer to give up on revenge than give in to my commands.

  Making it to the edge of my glow, she finally rises to her feet, tips her head back, and howls into the foggy sky, her low keening filling the sudden silence.

  The other wolves become still, listening to her cry.

  Moments later, they tip their heads back, their howls wailing around us in a strange and unsettling song. I don’t know what it means, but a beat later, the female wolf bounds to the edge of the clearing, gathering up the other wolves before she races away.

  Within seconds, they disappear into the mist again.

  I exhale into the stillness, my power humming quietly as I expand my senses to reassure myself that the wolves are really gone.

  I count out the seconds while I struggle to pull back my power, the shield around us still glowing brightly. My heart is pounding. I can’t lower my hands—can’t retract the shield—until I’m certain the threat is over.

  But more than that, I’m suddenly afraid to look down because all I thought about was protecting Nathaniel. I don’t know if he’s hurt. He could be dying and I won’t be able to do anything about it. I’m not a healer and I don’t—

  “Aura?” Nathaniel’s warm hand wraps around my outstretched arm.

  His touch is like a catalyst. I drop the shield and lower my hands to his chest, searching for signs of injury.

  His features are calm—far calmer than I expected.

  Despite my anxiety, I don’t see a drop of blood on his face or neck. I check his hands, turning them over in mine before I search his arms and chest for cuts or claw marks.

  He lies patiently beneath me while I carry out my search.

  His clothing is intact. There isn’t a single scratch on his arms.

  “Aura.” He finally grips my hands and forces me to stop searching for damage. “I’m okay.”

  The space between us glows from the skin-on-skin contact between our bodies. Every time we touch, he makes me glow and we still don’t know why, but right now, that’s the least of my concerns.

  Now that my hands are trapped, I search his face and chest with my eyes. There must be something wrong. He would have gotten back to his feet by now if he were okay.

  “Then why are you still lying there?” I demand to know.

  His mouth twitches upward into a smile as his fingers lace slowly with mine in the space above his chest. “Maybe I like you fussing over me.”

  I glare at him. “I don’t fuss.”

  “Worry, then.”

  My scowl deepens.

  He sighs. “Okay, you got me. I like wallowing in mud.”

  To prove his point, he disentangles one of his hands and buries his fingers in the patch of sludge beside where I kneel.

  He arches an eyebrow at me, as if challenging me to contradict his claim.

  His humor only worries me more. He’s deflecting, but I’m not sure from what. If I search his eyes hard enough, there’s a hint of pain behind his smile, but I don’t know its source—physical or emotional. Either could be bad.

  Only half a day ago, I justified my fears about him dying by telling myself I want to kill him myself—that I can’t let him die by anyone else’s hand. Since then, he fought beside me, defended me against my own people, and breathed life into me when I couldn’t breathe for myself.

  This morning, I chose to fall from the sky with him.

  Our fates are intertwined and all I know for sure is that I’ll fight to keep him alive until the final moment when I’m forced to kill him.

  Chapter 3

  Nathaniel’s expression softens as I continue to glare at him. He doesn’t make a move to stand, his gaze passing across my eyes to rest on my lips.

  My cheeks heat as I remember the way he kissed me last night, my body’s intense reaction to the contact between us.

  “Well,” he says, “since neither one of us seems inclined to get up…”

  He pulls our laced fingers closer to his chest, drawing me toward him, gripping me lightly. The tension drains out of me as I relax into his arms. He doesn’t make a move beyond pulling me closer, even though his gaze burns across my face. There’s a stillness about him, the reason for which I can’t place, but I take advantage of it in a way I never would have before we fell from the sky together.

  Impulsively, I lean forward and brush my lips across his. Just like last night, even a light touch sparks embers inside me, strong enough to make me want more than I can have.

  My cheeks heat again as I quickly make myself draw back, already regretting whatever compulsion made me think it was okay to kiss him right after w
e were attacked by wolves and despite the fact that we’re headed for death.

  A slow smile grows on his face as he watches me withdraw, one corner of his lips hitching higher than the other, the darkness in his eyes lifting.

  Before I know what he’s doing, the thumb of his free hand—the one he buried in the mud—grazes across my left cheek in a slow movement.

  It’s covered in mud.

  My eyes fly wide at the ticklish, sandpapery sensation before a laugh bursts out of me. “If you’re trying to prove you love mud—”

  “Shh. This is important.” His smile continues to play around his lips, but he suppresses it with a stern order while his eyes twinkle at me. “Stay still.”

  My forehead creases as he dips his forefinger into the mud and draws another line across my face, this time at an angle from beneath my cheekbone to my earlobe. He follows it with a third short line up my forehead at an angle above my left eyebrow.

  Finally, his hand sweeps to the other side of my face and his forefinger curves from the corner of my right eye all the way to my jawline, leaving a fourth trail of mud behind.

  He smiles as he surveys his handiwork. He seems very pleased about it. “There.”

  My scowl morphs from disgruntled to confused and finally to curious. His movements were deliberate, concentrated, as if he were tracing the outline of something important. “What did you draw on my face?”

  He hovers his hand across my left cheek without smudging the lines. “These are the rays of the sun.” His hand travels past my nose to my other cheek. “This is the curve of the moon.”

  My confusion clears. I can’t see what he drew, but I recognize the pattern from what he described. “That’s the symbol on your weapon.”

  He fought me with a gleaming halberd yesterday—a weapon with a curved blade on one side and a wicked spike on the other. It was his father’s weapon. He left it behind in Bright when we fled, along with his pelt and human clothing. I understand now why he chose to wear only long pants when he first emerged out of the mist to fight me yesterday morning. Despite the winter weather in Bright, it’s much warmer in Fell country. Humid and dank. Not a breath of wind.

  “This symbol is important to me,” he says. “Not just because it was my father’s, but because it represents my true name.”

  Queen Imatra said that humans take their second name from their occupation. Nathaniel’s second name is Shield because he is King Cyrian’s bodyguard—his Champion. Until now, Nathaniel has refused to talk about his real name.

  I hold my breath as I ask, “Will you tell me about it?”

  “No.” He shakes his head, but his expression is gentle, not angry. “Not because I don’t want to, Aura. King Cyrian bound my true name in dark magic and now nobody can speak it aloud.”

  My lips part in surprise. “So… yesterday when Queen Imatra tried to make you talk about your name… and later you said your true name was taken from you… you meant it literally.”

  “I promised I would always tell you the truth.”

  He has. At every turn. Even when I didn’t want to hear it.

  I disentangle my fingers from his and press my hand over his heart. “You also said there are some things you can’t tell me.”

  “Again, literally,” he says, his eyes searching mine.

  Not knowing who he is… It scares me for reasons I don’t understand. Lying here in the mud with him suddenly feels… familiar in a way that I can’t pinpoint. I’m transported back to the moment I woke up in the ash when I was seven years old, with no memories of my life before that moment. According to Imatra, I was placed under a spell after I was born because my parents were afraid of my power. They wanted me to grow old enough to control it before they woke me up. They were right to be afraid. I woke up before the intended time and decimated the entire human army with my waking power. Somehow Imatra survived. But I don’t know where Nathaniel’s father was at that time. Imatra was the only one I saw when I regained consciousness.

  “What about the wolves?” I ask, needing to distract myself from my fears. “Why did you stop me killing them?”

  A gusty sigh leaves his lips. “Because it was my fault they attacked.”

  I tilt my head in confusion. “You didn’t do anything to provoke them.”

  “I did,” he says with a single, sure nod. “You already know that the old law rules Fell country. It doesn’t only govern humans, but the environment as well. It’s part of everything here. Every creature, every change of season, every human heartbeat… The animals obey it instinctively. It’s part of their nature.” His lips press together in a line of regret. “The wolves wouldn’t have attacked if I’d been wearing my pelt.”

  I press my hand against his shoulder—the place that he touched before he fought the wolves. “That’s what you reached for?”

  “The old law is harsh and unbending, but it maintains balance in our environment,” he says. “This part of the marsh belongs to the wolves. Humans only come here with bare shoulders if they intend to kill a wolf. If I was wearing my pelt like I should have been, the wolves would have smelled it and accepted that I wasn’t here to hurt them.”

  “But your pelt… you must have gotten it somehow.”

  “I did come here to kill once.” His voice becomes low. Soft. “A few years ago, I killed the alpha male.”

  My eyes widen as I remember the she-wolf’s pain, her instinctive compulsion to kill Nathaniel. “You killed their leader’s mate? That’s what you meant by revenge. That’s why she hates you?”

  He nods. “I dishonored her by stepping foot here without her mate’s pelt. She read it as a message that I was here to kill again. One kill is within the law. Another is dishonorable. She had every right to rip out my heart.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to hurt them. It was a matter of honor.”

  Nathaniel has proven to me time and time again that he operates within a code. I don’t always understand it, but I know he won’t betray his sense of honor.

  I worry at my lip. “What about me? I’m not wearing a pelt.”

  He grimaces. “I had a plan for that, but I’ve been gone a whole day, so it fell apart…” He shakes his head, suddenly unwilling to explain himself. “I was hoping the wolves would be confused because you don’t smell like a human.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him, not sure what to read into his statement. “Are you saying that I… smell?”

  The corner of his mouth twitches upward. A soft smile. “You have a presence, Aura. Like a summer breeze right before the night falls.”

  His arm slides around my waist, drawing me closer. I wasn’t aware of my own scent, but I’m acutely aware of his. Burned caramel. Both calming and stirring, emotions I try to fight as I picture myself kissing him again.

  His hand circles my lower back and I’m suddenly far too aware of how close our bodies are situated. My armor stops me feeling the full impact of his touch, but the way he rubs my back fills me with warmth all the same.

  “Aura,” he says softly, drawing me closer. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “What is it?” I whisper.

  His gaze flickers past me, focused for a second on something beyond me. “I need you to lie down here with me. Very slowly. No sudden movements.”

  Again, his gaze shifts past me.

  A breath of air stirs at my back.

  Oh, dear stars.

  Here I was thinking warm thoughts and now I realize his intentions are purely about survival.

  “There’s something behind me, isn’t there?” I ask, swallowing.

  His head moves in a single, careful nod. “I’m afraid there is.”

  Chapter 4

  “Come here,” Nathaniel says. “Slowly now.”

  I sink into the crook of his arm, slipping my arm around his waist and angling myself slightly backward so I can see upward.

  A flying form hovers above us.

  A large, brown moth.

  Nothing scary.


  Not scary at all, in fact, except that it’s the size of a crow, its body the width of my arm, and its wingspan so wide, I have to swivel my eyes to see from one side to the other.

  Dear stars. I’ve heard about giant moths, but I never imagined they would look like this.

  It languidly descends toward us so quietly that my breath stops.

  I didn’t even sense it. Even now as it approaches, I get nothing from it. No spirit at all. It’s as if there’s a blank spot in my senses where it flies. It continues to sail toward us as if it thinks it’s welcome to do whatever it wants.

  I tell myself it’s just a moth. It’s just a… damn… moth. Nothing to be afraid of, but my instinctive response to its darkness makes me uncertain.

  Nathaniel’s strong arms slide around me, firm, holding me in place. “Easy, Aura,” he whispers against the top of my hair. “Don’t hurt it.”

  The glow at the corner of my eyes tells me that my starlight power has been triggered. I suppress it with all my might as the moth continues on its alarming path.

  It lands right on top of Nathaniel’s chest, but it’s facing me, its antennae turned in my direction while its giant wings beat across his face and chest.

  Nathaniel is turned toward me, but he closes his eyes when the moth’s wing brushes his cheek.

  Up close, I can see that the creature is covered in short fur the color of the muddy ground, its legs are like crooked twigs, and it smells… dear stars… it reeks as badly as the bottom of a still well.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as the moth’s antennae brush against my neck and across my cheeks as if it’s looking for something, quietly seeking…

  It feels like it’s sucking away a tiny part of me…

  Panic shoots through me as its feelers pass across my eyes.

  Surely, killing a moth won’t break the law?

  As if he senses my growing unease, Nathaniel tightens his grip around me, refusing to let me go.

  “Easy,” he whispers again, drawing out the command. “Stay very still.”

 

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