Page 93 of Crown of Storm and Silence
Looking at her—fierce determination blazing in her green eyes despite her fragile state—I realize she's right. If we're walking into a trap, we'll need all the help we can get.
"Fine," I concede. "But you follow orders. No improvisation, no creative interpretation of plans."
"Scout's honor," she says with a bright smile, holding up her hand in what is definitely not a proper scout salute. "Though I was never actually a scout, so the honor part might be negotiable."
Elçin has been quietly observing throughout this exchange, her tactical mind clearly working through scenarios. "If we're doing this," she says finally, "we need to plan for every contingency. I want to know everything about demon realm magic, potential escape routes, and exactly what this purification ritual involves."
"You're coming too?" I ask, surprised.
"Try to stop me," she replies with a warrior's grim smile. "Family doesn't abandon family."
"Three days," I repeat, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.
"Three days," Kaan confirms, his shadows writhing with anticipation and dread.
Outside the window, storm clouds gather on the horizon, and I can't shake the feeling that they're an omen for what's to come. In three days, we'll walk into the heart of darkness itself, trusting the word of a demon and the strength of a blood oath.
Either we'll emerge victorious, or we'll provide entertainment for creatures that consider screaming a form of music.
Somehow, I suspect it won't be the former.
32
After dinner
Kaan
The obsidian chambersof the Shadow Court have never felt smaller than they do now, with Nesilhan curled in the window seat watching the eternal twilight that marks the boundary between realms. She's been quiet since I returned from Kara Cehennem, processing the impossible choice I've laid before her with the kind of careful consideration that makes my cold heart ache with love and terror in equal measure.
The silver veins beneath my skin pulse with increasing urgency, spreading further up my arms and across my chest, as the poison is reminding me that my father's involvement is inevitable. Each heartbeat brings me closer to complete transformation, and I can feel the poison whispering sweet promises of surrender, of embracing what I was always meant to become–a fucking monster.
"You're staring," she says without turning from the window, her voice carrying that particular note of awareness that suggests she's been watching my reflection in the glass.
"I'm memorizing," I correct, moving closer despite every instinct screaming at me to maintain distance. "There may not be many opportunities left."
She turns, golden eyes finding mine across the space between us. The exhaustion from her recent ordeal still shadows her features, but underneath it, I see something that makes my breath catch—determination mixed with something that might be longing.
"Kaan," she says softly, rising from the window seat with movements that speak of careful grace. "Come here."
The command in her voice makes my shadows writhe with eager response, but I remain frozen where I am. "Hatun, I don't think?—"
"I said come here," she repeats, and this time there's steel beneath the silk. "Please."
I cross the distance between us on unsteady legs, my hands clenched into fists at my sides to prevent them from reaching for her. The poison follows, suppressing my need for her, silver fire racing through my veins as her proximity makes the poison writhe with hungry anticipation.
"You're afraid to touch me," she observes, studying my face with those perceptive eyes that see too much. "Why?"
"Because," I say through gritted teeth, "the poison responds to emotion. To desire. And being near you makes me want things that could contaminate you, could hurt?—"
Nesilhan doesn't hesitate; she reaches out for me, and I stare at her lips. Her mouth hits mine like lightning—sudden, electric, stealing thought itself. No hesitation, no careful approach. She bites my lower lip immediately, hard enough that I taste copper, and when I gasp, she claims the sound with her tongue.
My hands shoot to her waist without conscious thought, pulling her flush against me until there's no space left between us. She tastes of honey and defiance, of sunshine laced withsomething that makes my blood burn. Her fingers twist in my hair, using the grip to angle my head exactly where she wants it, and fuck—the casual dominance of it makes something primal in me purr with satisfaction.
"More," she breathes against my mouth, not a request but a command, and I'm helpless to do anything but obey.
I surrender completely, my arms wrapping around her as months of separation and desperate longing pour into the kiss. My tongue slides against hers, then teases hers, tasting salt and warmth and something uniquely her that makes the poison writhe in confused pleasure. When she bites my lower lip hard enough to draw silver blood, I groan into her mouth, the sound purely animalistic.
"Fuck," I breathe against her lips, my hands roaming her back, her sides, anywhere I can touch without breaking the kiss. "Nesilhan, I need?—"
