Page 75 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Craving the warmth, Tauria took the bedding off the second cot and sat by the fire, quickly losing herself to books that felt deliciously forbidden. Her adrenaline pumped with every page turned, as though the next could unveil the darkest secret of the high lord for them to end him.

When Tauria flipped to the next page, her fingers traced down the jagged strokes drawn on the page. “He was a Stormcaster,” she muttered out loud.

“That ability hasn’t been around in centuries,” Edith said, now lying on her stomach watching Tauria read.

“I’ve never heard of it. The power of lightning is…fascinating.”And absolutely lethal.“He would have used it by now, wouldn’t he? I don’t think the ability came back to him when he was brought back to life.”

“I bet that contributes to his resentment about being alive.”

Tauria hummed her agreement, continuing her reading. Most of it was dull and unhelpful, until Tauria came across Mordecai’s family tree. It wasn’t long, and not up-to-date enough to reveal the name of his heir or a potential lover.

“He had a sister, and she was a Nightwalker,” Tauria discovered.

Her finger traced down the vine. Mordecai’s parents had died naturally. His sister had died in childbirth with her third pregnancy. Shortly after, Mordecai had started his movement of the Dark Age. He’d lost most of his nieces and nephews during it except one—a fae male who’d mated with someone from the mainland, leaving behind their claim to Valgard once Mordecai was defeated, and ending the reign of the Vesarias. Tauria kept following until more recent times, and the family name switched through several marriages. The documentation of the diluted Vesaria bloodline had stopped around five hundred years ago, with the last being a daughter by a very different family name.

She drew a shallow gasp.

“What is it?” Edith asked.

Tauria couldn’t stop staring at the familiar name, wondering if it were just a coincidence and someone else might have the same one. Because it was Nik’s mother who came to mind. Leia Caeldagh…who would later meet the King of High Farrow, Orlon Silvergriff: her mate.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Izaiah

“If you’re going to pretend to read, you should at least look at the pages,” Tynan said.

It jerked Izaiah from the scenes his mind had been playing out as if he were in two places at once. Only then did he realize his hand had been flipping pages while his sight bore holes into the opposite wall.

He thumped his book shut in one hand to glower at Tynan seated at the desk in his rooms.

“If you want to convince me you’re making progress, you shouldn’t be leaving such long stretches of silence. I’m getting bored.”

Tynan’s hair was disheveled from the many times he’d dragged frustrated hands through it, his elbows propped on the table. It was particularly attractive, and Izaiah only itched to be the cause of it instead.

“I think this is pointless. When will I have a use for reading? It’s not like we have time to indulge in fantasies, and besides, ifI’m going to die in this war, the Nether isn’t going to care for my illiteracy.”

He leaned back in his seat, pushing the book away, and Izaiah gravitated toward him with little conscious thought.

“I’d say we’ve made do with finding adequate time forfantasy,” Izaiah said, coming around behind him.

Tynan was too damn tempting, and he couldn’t help himself. This need to touch what should be forbidden. Why was it that the most sinful fruit was always the most desirable?

Izaiah slipped a hand over Tynan’s shoulder, and it was like his tension melted under the tightening of his fingers. It flared dominance in him. A thought that this dark fae would mold for him. Whatever he asked.

“There’s certainly some things I’d rake myself across the coals for,” Tynan answered, tipping his head back against the tall seat.

Izaiah leaned in, unable to help himself with the purposeful breath he fanned across Tynan’s ear as he reached for the quill. On a sheet of blank paper, he hesitated only for a second, then he scribed one line.

“If you manage to read that, you can come claim a reward.”

Their heads tilting toward each other brought their lips just shy of meeting. Tynan broke first, and Izaiah gave some release to the ache swelling inside him for the few seconds he allowed the deep kiss. Then he planted his hand on Tynan’s chest, pushing him roughly against the chair in warning.

Swiping up the parchment, he folded it twice. When Tynan stood, Izaiah slipped it into the pocket of his pants. The dark fae tried to step away, but Izaiah’s fingers hooked into his waistband. For no other reason than his crazed need for the challenge it breathed between them, it was becoming a sadistic thrill.

“It’s just a phrase about my dashing looks and stellar personality,” he said. “You know how to find me when you figure it out.”

Izaiah let him go. Picking up a book, he pretended the tension between them was so easily forgotten. His lust was painted in Tynan’s frustration.

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