Page 8 of Rook of Ruin
Ossian’s fingers make wonderful circular motions, and I whimper as his words wash over me. “You didn’t think. You have no idea what I will do to keep you now.”
His fingers slide into my wet heat, his mouth climbing back up to mine, and I fall apart under his gaze. Every muscle in my body tingles in anticipation. Slowly, he removes his fingers and pushes his thick massive length into me. He groans loudly, and my breath hitches as he pauses his hips just long enough to allow me to adjust, then begins pushing in and out, dragging his cock along the tender nerves inside of me. I wrap my legs around him, moving my body, demanding him to go deeper, wantingmore. Our desperation is like a tsunami, one I’ll gladly drown in.
Silver wings unfold from his back, and the movement is breathtaking. Thunderous mercy, where did he get these? Theyare beautiful.Ossian is beautiful.I reach up and gently touch a wing. It feels softer than it looks, a soft leather. It shatters him, and he groans out, pushing harder into me. My fingers dig into his skin, then scrape down his back. His eyes turn a bright silver.
My body is jolted awake, and I gasp, waking from slumber. Groaning from the dream and lack of sex, I push my face deep into my plush pillow and scream. Of all the people to have a sex dream about, it’s the fucking Spider—and he just so happened to have the long, thick dick of my dreams. I throw a wish into the world that he has a teeny tiny one. Who has a sex dream about Ossian? Especially a sex dream about a winged Ossian.Gross.I must be really desperate. I guess I am.
Sliding my hands over my face, I blow out a breath and remind myself of theactualevents of my past. There was no sex, and Ossian didn’t try to comfort me or even acknowledge the frustration rolling off my skin. His usual silence continued until we met up with Tess and Paul, who were celebrating.
The memories come flooding into my mind. We jumped and hugged each other, then went with the rest of the graduates and veteran Rooks for a night of drunken debauchery in the barracks. We wore our new braces and leathers proudly. Tess received the ability to influence water; she and several other water wielders learned how to keep the spice shots filled to the brim. Paul received the ability to use wind; he and a few other air wielders learned how to keep the confetti flying and out of our drinks throughout the night.
Music had flowed endlessly, and by the time people began pairing off—to include Tess with a new fire wielder, and Paul with Zane—I found myself alone. I drank and spoke with random Rooks for a while until I noticed Ossian’s grey eyes watching me from afar. He sat next to a pretty female Rook, who was obviously trying to seduce him. I practically spit out the spice in my mouth and roared with laughter as she traileda finger down his brown leathers. To her dismay, he quickly moved her hand away from his body and whispered something low. Her face became red, pulling into a deep, angry frown. I remember turning away just as a brown-haired Rook slid his arm around my waist, pulling me close to dance. Before I could do anything, Ossian grabbed a hold of the Rook’s leathers and held him up high. His wild eyes, a brilliant silver, bored into mine. There was only a breath before realization formed over Ossian’s face; he had forgotten himself.
Everyone watched the scene unfold. Eyes narrowed, and still holding onto the young Rook, Ossian loudly reminded everyone of who I am, alady.Then he unnecessarily informed the room that my sister is married to the queen’s son, and she will rule alongside him, making me the future queen’s sister. Hurt seared my heart when everyone shuffled back. I’m not a Rook. Not someone to be touched or looked at because I was found worthy. Thoroughly embarrassed, I stomped back to my room, feeling even more alone.
I waited patiently for my revenge. One year later. Because I’m a petty, reckless person, I took my vengeance the night of Ossian’s promotion. I snuck into his barracks room and placed a fine powder on his new fighting leathers, which caused him uncontrollable itching and embarrassment. I smile again when I remember how he nearly scooted across the floor trying to scratch himself like a dog.
Pulling myself up off the pillow, I groan out. The castle city of Marrith is fully awake now. From my tiny window, I can hear the merchants and city dwellers enjoying the spoils of wealth in the day market below. The room seems to close in on me. Perhaps it’s not the room; it’s the great castle of Acros, where I’ve lived my whole life. My fingers rub my temple because I’m totally fucked, and not in a good way.
I’m thankful for my stark quarters, that no one could have heard me quite possibly moan in my sleep. Embarrassing. Unprofessional.But at least it was a good sex dream. Even if it was with Ossian.Ugh. I shake my head, trying to rid the dream from my mind. There is no room for error today of all days. My dream reminded me of who I was, and this morning, I’m reminded of who I am to become—exactly who Ossian hunts for sport. A traitor. If I die today, I hope it is quick, because there is no doubt it will be very painful.
The Locker’s iron-and-stone entryway whispers terror and secrets. My forever bloodstained and cruel hands are the least of my concern right now. I can’t deny I’m the cause of that terror and the reason for broken secrets—and broken souls. Stomping barefoot through the training ground within the castle walls, my memories come slamming through my head as bile rises into my throat. My dream didn’t help, and I forcefully swallow, trying to control my thoughts.
My morally grey outlook on life has turned darker. So dark, I wonder if it’s a shadow of something deep within. Maybe that’s why I take the moment to enjoy the outside world before I walk back into the queen’s dungeon to commit treason. I’m afraid, truly frightened that I will never see sunlight again, never feel soft grass beneath my feet, never hear the sweet sounds of life, never touch skin or know true love. I would rather die. I choke back a laugh because I probablyamgoing to die.
It all comes down to trust. I’m trusting the people I love, the people who have placed their faith in me, the people who I havecreated an everlasting bond with not to look into my traitorous heart—to never know that I’m doing the wrong thing for the right reason. I’m riskingeverything. It’s not even a good plan, it’s a terrible plan, and in my haste to figure something out, I actually blurted out something I’d read from a romance novel.
Reckless.
Sliding my back down the stone wall of the keep, my breath rises up my throat. It’s a burning breath from the bile still threatening to spew out of my mouth. I can’t lose my nerve, not here. The busy training courtyard is full of Recruits learning how to walk that fine line between a savior and the depraved. It’s only when I pluck the grass strands next to my bare feet, willing my heart to slow before I go fuck up my life, that I heed the words of wisdom from Ossian. I trust myself, but I’ll never ever admit to him how his words have affected me.
One more moment in the glorious sun. One more moment to feel it beat down on my pale skin, and then I pull on my soft socks. The future Rooks of Acros run to a cadence, repeating the mottos of each battalion. I pause to watch them panic as they approach the water station, where the training Rooks await. The Recruits must quickly give a Rook correct answers to our rules of conduct. Fail once, and be thirsty, fail twice, and you spar to keep your spot as a future Rook. I don’t miss Recruit training at all. I don’t miss the backstabbing and manipulations that many Recruits rely on to keep their place. I don’t miss Lady Clariene Fucking Whistble or Monstrous Mable Lance and their continuous torment. Three years of intensive training intended to break you and build you into members of Her Majesty’s military strength.
Hundreds will train and work together, but only a few souls will succeed in actually becoming a Rook. Those who don’t succeed transfer to other areas of service, like Clairene and Mable, the useless Crows they are. If you survive Rookrecruitment and training, you are chosen to become a Rook at twenty-one—or, in my case, twenty. Four years after becoming a Rook, I’m choosing to fuck up my career, my life, and perhaps my only other family member’s life too—the future queen of Acros, Ralin Inara.
“Thunderous mercy,” I growl, forcefully shoving on my boots, as if they are the cause of my current circumstances.
Walking across the training field, willing my body to move naturally, a familiar voice echoes in the alcove to my right. I mentally heel, forcing my body to stop. As much as I want to get this day over with, everything must seem normal, and that means I need to see Tess like I normally would.
Sparkling light brown eyes look at me while I lean against the stone entrance. Every part of Tess’s tall body is animated, her toned muscles are poking out of her blue training shirt, and her bronze skin gleams from sweat. I wish my skin would gleam from sweat. I even wish I had the ovaries to cut my golden brown hair as short as her blue. Her long, tattooed fingers stand out against the bone-white mug she holds, her company’s motto,Conquisitors Veritatis, on the mug for all to see. The Recruits for her company stand before her in rapt attention.
“Everyone serves in Acros. Yes, even royalty. You know this; there are even lords and ladies among us Rooks.” I roll my eyes at this. She notices but chooses to ignore me. “The decree occurred over a hundred years ago . . .”
I almost want to step in and speed things along. The Recruits only need to remember the details, not who was wearing what when King and Queen Phicese ruled. Tess likes to stretch stories, but she should just say, “King Xavier Phicese and his delegation traveled across the seas to the kingdom of Tynan for a peace treaty.” Recruits don’t need to know the seas were rough and that they saw a serpent. Simple. To the point. “King Phicese was murdered. Acros and Tynan went to war.” Done. Take a bow.
Tess pauses and sweeps her eyes around the Recruits. “His queen went to war with a ferocity that lasted generations and haunts us to this day. Queen Luna Phicese, the first Untouchable. The same queen who set the precedent and put into law that those who lose loved ones must wear the rune marks created by the Grey Sisters until the day their mourning is complete. Only then will the runes disappear. For some, like the Untouchable Queen, the runes may never leave. They live their lives in a constant state of mourning.” Tess sighs. “You may have heard the rumors, and they are true.”
I perk up. What rumors?
“Our great Queen Inara has confirmed that the king of Tynan and his warriors recently murdered innocent Grey Sisters trying to perform Rites along with several of our merchants.”
There are a few gasps of shock and angry exclamations. I’m more interested in the possibility of leaving Acros to gather information. There’s not much we—I—know about Tynan, except for the fact that the king is a vicious and violent man. Those traits must be hereditary because all the previous kings of Tynan were known to be barbaric as well.
Tess holds up her mug. “To those who sacrifice for Acros, we thank you. To the Untouchables, we see your burden. Repeat after me, future Rooks: we pour a sip of our spirit into the ground for those who died, we salute the spirits for their Untouchables, we drink our spirit to show our solidarity with our brothers and sisters who died before us.Conquisitors Veritatis! Seekers of Truth!Praesidia Secretorum! Protectors of Secrets!Propugnatores Mortis! Champions of Death!Custodes Vitae! Guardians of Life!” Tess drinks deeply, alcohol dripping down her chin, and she tips the mug back until she finishes. The Recruits drink just as deeply from their water cans. Tess proudly holds the mug up and yells at the future Rooks to take a break but stay close by.
Shoving off the wall, a crooked smile forms on my mouth as she pours another fist of whiskey. Tess holds her mug out expectantly, and I take a large gulp, the liquid burning from my throat to my belly. Wiping the whiskey off my lips, I hand almost a full mug back to her. Tess looks at it and frowns, drinking what I left.
“I received my orders,” Tess says as her frown deepens and her perfectly arched brows pull together.
