Page 12 of What Whispers in the Dark
So close she could feel the blistering warmth from his mouth, Jade warred with the urge to rip out his throat with her teeth. She’d done it before. Would never forget the feeling of it. Of the way she spat the flesh on the body once it fell lifeless to the ground.
Of the taste…
Would Malik taste just as victorious?
Warmth enveloped her shoulder before she could act on the thought, covering her bonded’s tattoo hidden underneath her cloak and leathers. Thalon stood behind, wise enough to know that getting caught between them would be akin to blocking a dragon from its horde. His warning cut as sharp as her blade. “Jade.”
Blue flames flickered in Malik’s eyes at the intrusion.
If hers could, she’d ignite too.
Back down.Through Garrik’s powers that linked them in times such as these, she heard him. Besides Garrik—and it pained her to admit, Aiden—Thalon was the only other male she would relent for.
The dagger twitched against Malik’s flesh.
Please, sis. Do not do this.Do not make him watch as they tear her away from him and rip her life from this world. Thalon’s grip remained steady but didn’t pull her away. Allowing her the choice.
He fucking asked for it.
Thalon’s sigh was devastating.Maybe so, but still … it is only a tactic. You know that.
If she wasn’t burning her hatred into Malik, he would have seen her look to the sky for restraint. It wasn’t fair. Not after all he had done. Still, Thalon couldn’t be ignored. Even though every nerve in her body screamed against it, she answered,Fine.
Malik studied her eyes like he was engraving them to memory. Like he was conducting a scheme to use whatever powers were granted to him to invade minds for magic-washing. To leave her emerald irises as silver as her High Prince’s, truly reforming her as histoy.
Or perhaps he stared into them with astute knowing. The male was meticulous with his observations. If he weren’t the snake bitch’s servant, then perhaps he would be Galdheir’s spymaster for his cunning eye and wit.A master at the game he conducted. The king piece on a checkered board.
Little did he know he was a pawn playing against a queen.
No matter her deep-seated rage and yearning for his death, Jade loosened her fist and withdrew the blade slightly, allowing a trickle of blood to inch down the plane of his high-collared neck, disappearing underneath to where some sort of tattoo peeked out.
“What a shame.” Only there was no disappointment shaping Malik’s features. More goading, a taunt to see what she would do while he took immense pleasure in prodding. “I had hoped?—”
“I care not for what youhoped.” Thalon’s hand on her didn’t budge as she replied, “Do not test me,flame fucker.You’re begging for more of my blade.”
“You think you could succeed at that?” He scoffed. “I could have you on your knees in a heartbeat if I willed it. It would suit you.”
“Think about that image a lot, do you?” She scoffed. “Shut up before I cut out your tongue.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Warm breath fanned across the shell of her ear before Malik whispered in it, “Because, princess,” the back of his fingers trailed down her neck, “you would enjoy this tongue should I ever care to use it.”
A pained gasp had his mouth pulling away. The warmth of his blood coated the edge of her blade, where she’d dropped it and slashed it across his chest.
Malik clasped a hand over his heart at the liquid seeping through his jacket. A minor flesh wound, not enough to kill, but to remember who she was. What creature he had brushed his fingers against.
She should have cut off his fingers, too.
Panting, “I guess you’ll never know.” Malik blew out a breath, clenching inside the leathers, coating his palm and the visible tattoos underneath in blood.
“You’re right. You never will.” Jade shoved against his ribs and twisted away, catching the wind with her cloak as she called back, “Might want to get that checked. Looks like you cut yourself,” and stood by their horses and Ghost.
Leaving the males to brood, she sliced a glance over her shoulder and watched Thalon drop the tip of his golden sword to the center of Malik’s chest, between the swell of muscles there, as the infernal male burned his dark gaze into her left shoulder.
She caught his retort, that scoff of breath, when he regarded the golden metal on the scales of his leathers. “Cute,” he snorted and swatted the blade away.
