Page 2 of Realm of Nightmares
She was an inferno come to life.
“You’re pretty when you’re angry.” His voice sounded from somewhere behind her. She spun on her heel to face him, but couldn’t see anything through the smoke and the blaze that burned brighter with every breath she took.
“Fuck you,” she spat.
“Mm.” His whisper tickled along her cheek and the warmth of his breath at the base of her neck made her skin prickle. “Another time, perhaps.”
Maeve stumbled back, startled by the fact he was so close to her and yet she couldn’t even see him. Her power dissipated as though completely snuffed out. Once more, she was left standing in a heavy downpour as mist curled up from the ground like a wall of steam.
Rowan, however, was nowhere to be seen.
It set her nerves on edge. Her chest tightened, the beating of her heart suddenly too loud. She knew he was there, watching her. Waiting for her to make the next move.
She didn’t have time to react before a hard-muscled body slammed into her, tackling her to the ground. Her back hit first, pain radiating up her spine. There was a good chance she would’ve been knocked unconscious had Rowan not swiftly maneuvered his hand underneath her, cradling her head before it made impact with the solid stone.
Rainwater dripped from his hair onto her face as he looked down at her. He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I win.”
Her fingers curled into fists, the tips of her nails biting into her palms. “This time.”
His smile held. “Every time.”
Off to their left, someone coughed. Loudly.
Maeve looked over to see Aed, the god of death, watching them. An amused smile illuminated his painfully beautiful face. He tucked his hands behind his back, and though he stood a few feet from them, the rain did not seem to touch him. His pants and collared shirt were dry, his boots shone like the moon at midnight. Power, immense and terrifying at once, radiated from him. He simply glowed with it.
“How’s training?” he asked mildly.
Rowan hooked his arm around Maeve’s waist and stood, hauling them both to their feet.
He let her go just as quickly, then shoved his wet hair back from his face. “She’s getting better.”
Maeve scowled.
The asshole.
“It’d be nice to fight someone who uses an actual weapon.” She crossed her arms to ward off the chill and to protect her pride. “The dark fae don’t attack with magic. Theyaremagic. Battling with them is more like hand-to-hand combat.”
Aed eyed her coolly, his gray eyes darkening like the storm clouds overhead. “You need more of a challenge, High Queen?”
Uncertainty skittered down her spine. But she’d already spoken too soon, and there was no going back now. She couldn’t allow herself to be seen as weak. Not in front of Rowan. And definitely not before the god of death.
Maeve jerked her chin up. “If you find someone worthy, let me know.”
“Oh, I already have.”
A line furrowed across her brow. “Who?”
The god of death spread his arms wide, and when he smiled this time, it was purely wicked. “Me.”
* * *
Three weeks.
Maeve had been stuck in the Ether for three weeks with no end in sight.
The library had proved useless in her endeavor to find a way back to Faeven. Though filled with many wondrous stories, none of them offered her the knowledge she sought. She hadn’t yet been able to venture to Diamarvh, the home of the Wild Hunt, to consult with them about aiding her in the fight against Parisa, because every time she considered going, Rowan magically appeared. She was beginning to think he was shadowing her, following her around to ensure she didn’t get into any trouble.
But perhaps worst of all was the bond she shared with Tiernan. It had been three days since she’d heard his voice in her mind, and even then, their conversations were brief. She had no idea what was happening in Faeven, what he was facing without her, or if he was plotting a way to get her back. And now, the god of death had more or less challenged her to a duel—a product of her own ignorance.
