Page 27 of Death Comes for Her
Mother’s wings were in a glass case downstairs. She’d dedicated her life to the virtue of sunlight. Everything about her sang with the melody of gold; her hair, her eyes, her smile. A queen in every way that mattered. Of all the fair folk in the world, she deserved better than becoming some abhorrent prize.
My memories of her were bright. They fluttered through my mind as light as feathers floating in a summer breeze. Each one more golden than the last and bringing forth a warming melancholy to my soul. It hurt something fierce to actively think of her, but after last night, it was impossible not to.
I had to do better. I needed to do something for her. A brazen opportunity to avenge some part of my old life, of who I used to be, had been presented. I’d be a mindless fool not to take action. After everything I’d done to keep myself alive, to survive in the damned world thus far, being a coward would ruin me.
Mother wouldn’t have wanted me to avenge her. Not if it put my life at risk.
But my father…
Dante had his dagger. He had my father’s dagger. The very same that savaged my back and cleaved away the visceral limbs of my being that separated me from mortal beings. The dagger that stole my birthright under damning circumstances.
Resentment, sharp and sour, rose like bile on the back of my tongue. I gritted my teeth against the rising rage, breath choking my throat as I stumbled a bit too close to the edge of the roof. My eyes closed again, and I stomped down tears brought on by the unsettling weight pressing down on my chest.
Father had done what he deemed necessary for my survival. That was all any parent could hope to achieve, especially in timesof war. The sheer desperate act of the fairy king cutting off his only child’s wings with bleak faith that it might keep them alive couldn’t have been easy. Some choices never were.
At that moment, it was my choice to remain alive. I didn’t have an end goal in mind, nothing more than a feeling, really, that there was something I needed to do. Something was coming, and instinct hummed that I was a catalyst for changing tides.
A cold whisper of wind tickled my arms and swept over my cheeks, pulling a tired smile from my lips. The earthy scent of the nearby woods and the freshly manicured lawn wafted upwards. I shivered from the increasing cold of a mild winter while pretending I had wings spread in the clouds as opposed to the truth of my arms splayed on a rooftop.
Pretending, dreaming, wishing as I had thousands of times before while balanced on the edge of a barn. The manor roof towered over the barn’s meager height, bringing me closer to the sky and stars. Just that much closer to where I belonged.
When the wind pulled, I swayed, eyes cinched shut as I reveled in the sensation. Until all the hairs on the back of my neck rose on alert.
“Don’t,” an icy voice broke through the serenity of my silence.
I gasped, spinning around to face the intruder, but I was too close to the edge, balanced precariously on the tips of my toes. My center of balance tipped over the edge, and my stomach dipped before swooping into my chest. The fear of falling didn’t exist within me. Instead, elation swelled behind my ribs at the possibility of careening over—
An arm like an iron bar belted around my waist. The breath lurched from my lungs as that force yanked me down into a solid chest. My body melded to the planes of his as I slid down the length of him. My hands braced on his chest, lungs expanding rapidly and heart racing as my toes touched the ground.
“Don’t jump,” Simon rasped, breath tickling the hairs at my temple.
A shiver danced down my spine.
“I… I wasn’t going to.” I dared a glance up, meeting ice-cold eyes glaring curiously down at me.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he sneered.
“Maybe you’re projecting.”
“You think I want to jump off the roof?”
“I think you want me to jump off the roof.”
His pale brow arched, and that one slip of his expression melted the arrogance he usually projected. The pressure of his body tight against mine evoked an odd twirling sensation between my hips. I frowned during the stretching silence while rubbing my knees together.
“Wouldn’t I have pushed you in that case?” The corner of his lip twitched. This close to his face, all the vibrant blue shards of his eyes sparkled like shattered glass in the sun.
My heart skipped a beat, and my lip jutted further.
“There’s still time.” I applied an ounce of force to his chest, a subtle reminder that he still had me wrapped up in his arms.
Simon didn’t budge. His gaze remained fixed on my face, eyes dropping pointedly to my mouth. And his lips parted fractionally, enough for me not to miss the sigh that escaped him. Then he took a step, forcing me back into the stone crenellations. Effectively caged between stone and ice, a shudder dipped and soared through me.
“Then who would I share poetry with?” His voice lowered, becoming impossibly husky and rich. A finger curled under my chin, tipping my head further back. I swallowed over a lump in my throat, face flushing with heat. When his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, the charged tension enveloping us tightened. “You have this pouty lower lip. I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it half the time.”
He parted my lips with his thumb and swiped across the flesh I’d been biting. His sharp blue eyes riveted on my mouth as if wholly distracted, transfixed even.
“What?” A sharp breath penetrated my lungs, and my eyes flew wide. Each deep breath only pushed my chest further into his, breasts heaving against the hard planes of his pectorals. My hips shifted, either subconsciously trying to squirm free or seek friction.
