Page 81 of Burning Heir

His fingers went higher up, nearing the hem of my skirt. “Is this where Monty touched you?” Thunder rumbled in the distance, shuttering the stained-glass windows.

A faint breath released through my nod. “You didn’t… have to punch him,” I said, tracing the shade crawling the walls, the same dark beauty enveloping his sharp cheekbone.

Ignoring my words, he ripped another line through the fraying fabric, and I swore my skin sizzled. “For someone who refuses to listen to me, your body sure enjoys the sound of my voice,” he groaned, lips brushing against my neck. “You drive me mad. I’ll drive you insane. Deal?” His finger scraped higher, grazing the edge of my panties before squeezing my thighs.

“Why do you care so badly about controlling me?”

“It’s not control, Severyn.” His other hand slipped over my chest, undoing three buttons. “I simply don’t want you to overheat from you thinking about my hands sliding up the inside of your wet thighs. Your crush on me is adorable.”

I ground my teeth. “I don’t like you. You’re the one who carried me home.”

“If it weren’t me, you’d be bound with daylight tethers now. Monty seems to have his eyes on you. Do you enjoy the attention of a powerful ruler?”

“You believe I am that weak? That I’d allow Monty to take me home?”

“That drink brings out desires, and you’ve yet to kick me out.”

“Desires are foolish.”

My body couldn’t lie to my mind. I enjoyed this more than I wanted, too. Like I needed him in the vilest way.What the fuck was wrong with me?

He traced a shape over my underwear, daring to slip it over and touch my skin. I breathed through the ash, biting my lip to silence my pleasure. “Oh, Severyn. If I was cruel, I might have caved to you, but pleasuring you after you’ve been poisoned by a drink is not on my mind.” He slipped his hand, his thumb skimming a scar on my thigh, then another, pausing as he traced each jagged line. When he reached the fifth, his breath hitched. “Was this Callum?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I hissed.

“Did he… where else did he hurt you?” Anger rippled in his voice, yet it softened into something unfamiliar, something almost tender. “Tell me what he did to you.”

“He made it known that he had marked me. To ensure I was undesirable.”

Archer’s hand hovered, and shadows melted over the scars, dark tendrils brushing my skin like whispers. “You will never see torture in these scars again. If anyone dares to harm you, I’ll mark you myself until shadows are your desire.”

I fisted the covers over my thighs. “I don’t need your protection. And you can leave now.”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze. It seemed to take every ounce of restraint for him to stand. “Keep telling yourself you hate me. Maybe one of us will start to believe it.” The shadows retracted into his palm. “Get some sleep. You have a big race coming up.”

Before I could respond, Archer disappeared. I traced the faint, glowing marks left on my thighs as if he had painted my body with starlight.

Shadow and stars couldn’t erase Callum’s scars entirely, but it was five fewer lines to bear.

Moments later, Malachi stumbled inside, red wine dripping from her soaked blouse. “Shit, did you hear that thunder?” Her eyes darted around the room, and she shook the ends of her damp hair.

I swallowed hard, the echoes of Archer’s touch still trembling in my chest. “Yeah, I did.”

Malachi collapsed onto my bed, her weight bouncing the mattress. “Sorry about Monty. He can be… aggressive when he gets an idea in his head.”

Desperate for a distraction, I blurted, “What do you know about neval hair?”

Her lips tightened into a grim line. “There’s been someone hunting anyone with that mark. They have been for nearly four decades. How did you not know?”

“Someone’s hunting me? And what are scorpion riders?”

Malachi yawned, stretching her arms like she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. “I figured you knew. Ask me tomorrow. It’ll take at least an hour to explain, and I don’t have the energy right now.” She reached for her lantern, but before she could extinguish it, I flicked my gaze to the candle and stole the flame, snuffing it out myself.

“That’s… an interesting trick,” she murmured, her voice laced with surprise.

And in the enveloping darkness, I allowed myself a small, proud smile.

Pounding sounded at the door. Hastily, I glanced out the window where the sun broke through. I’d slept in, and Malachi was gone, and from the looks of my whirled covers, she tried to wake me as well.

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