Page 89 of Cursed Shadows 2

Daxeel and I don’t get another moment alone, don’t get to finish what that kiss started, because before Dare returns with wine and tavarak and valerian stalk (and a slice of milk cake for me), Eamon and Fern abandon their roof for this one, and that’s how the rest of my night is spent.

I spend my night drinking, smoking and eating on a tower with a dark male I love, two hybrids, and an unseelie.

I find I don’t mind it so much.

Maybe I like a little.

Feels very much like… I have more friends… or even, silly me, family.

19

††††††

This Quiet brings a tension to my insides. Feels like a metal hand has me in its unyielding grip, and I can’t quite breathe enough to soothe the tightness of my lungs.

Tomorrow, the Sacramentreallybegins. The first passage will come, and though I won’t be in it myself, since my bargain with Daxeel protects me, I’m ill at ease.

It’s a fear for him that has me rigid in my own skin.

There is no doubt that survives in me that he is nothing less than a fierce warrior. But it’s only him and his brother who are both from the ancient bloodlines and competing this Sacrament—and the litalves will be faced with one ultimate task. Take Daxeel and Caius out. Kill them before they reach the second passage.

And it is all I can think about as I steep myself in the hot bubbled water in the washroom. It haunts my mind as I scrub myself raw, chases my thoughts as I dress in a bodiced chemise.

I’m so consumed by my fears that, when I perch on a stool, I barely react to the sight of my bruised reflection in a mirror.

I don’t even think of Taroh as I dab soothing lotion on the bruises and cuts he marked me with, I only think of Daxeel in the first passage. I fear that he might die.

I leave behind the lotions and balms that belong to Comlar, and head back to my bedchamber.

The Quiet of the garrison is haunting in itself. All the contenders will be at rest now. No more bustling corridors or bloody battle blocks or loud shouts in the Hall.

The corridors feel dead as a carcass in the woods. I have that tingly sensation as I make my way back to my bedchamber, the tickle of a thousand invisible spiders crawling all over me.

Against the pressing nature of the dark, my skin prickles and I fight a shudder that tenses my shoulders. The cool bite of the floorboards nips at the soles of my feet.

I keep my steps swift, but when I turn the corner for my corridor, my hands fist at my sides—

And I still.

Down some doorways, a tall and broad-shouldered male is shrouded in the thick shadows. He leans against my door, arms folded over his strong chest—and even through the dark I can see he’s cut from muscle.

Through the shadows, Daxeel’s cobalt eyes lift and lock onto me. The stare hits me like lead.

I haven’t spoken to him since last Quiet. I snuck out in the Warmth, and I wonder if he’s relieved about that or on the verge of biting into me.

But there’s no sign of rage in the way he watches me from the shadows. There’s a distant softness in his eyes, and in the way he pushes from the door, slow and lazy.

For a beat, I’m whirled back in time to those nights he was careful around me, so careful not to spook me. Then I blink and I’m here again, in the corridor, facing such a different version of my love.

In his black sweater, combat trousers, and black boots, he even looks different to how he did back then, only ever in his leathers. The lashes of glistening ink that lick up the side of his neck, the lines that cut down his hand to the tips of his fingers, that’s new too.

But I find this Daxeel grows on me with each moment I spend with him. I might even like his savage side at times.

But he’s not so savage this Quiet.

He lifts his hand for me;come here.

I do.

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