Page 99 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
I take several retreating steps, shaking my head as if his words sting. “And that would be a mistake,” I say, voice raw. “You’ll find someone else.”
His face transforms, the calm façade cracking to reveal total indignation. “I don’t want anyone else,” he growls, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest.
That growl—dragon’s breath—it sends heat racing down my spine despite everything. “You don’t know what you want.”
Fury flashes across his features, his eyes swimming with silver light—that rare phenomenon when his emotions boil over, when the wind elemental inside him threatens to break free.
“I. Don’t. Want. Anyone. Else.” Each word falls between us like a stone, precise and heavy. He steps closer, erasing the distance I created. “And when you’re ready, you’ll be wholly mine, no matter what.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Don’t flatter yourself, High Prime.”
The corner of his mouth curls up, not in amusement but something darker, more dangerous. “If not love, then lust will drive you back to me,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. “Because you want to fuck just as much as I do, and you’re too wild to keep yourself in check.”
Heat floods my face, rage and desire tangling together until I can’t separate them.
This is the Vaylen that promised to make mistakes with me over and over again, the one who let me fall from his dragon to teach me a lesson, then pushed me against the wall of his chamber in Sky’s Edge to kiss me until I thought I’d lose my mind. This is the Vaylen he cages in propriety and rules andduty, the one that makes me feel I don’t truly know him or what he’s capable of. The Vaylen that both terrifies and exhilarates me.
I step forward until we’re chest to chest, my breath coming fast. “You think you know me so well,” I whisper, tilting my chin up defiantly. “You think you can predict what I’ll do.”
His pupils dilate, swallowing the blue of his eyes. His breath hitches. “I think I know exactly what you’ll do because you’re as drawn to me as I am to you. Because when we’re together, we’re a fucking storm.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides. I want to hit him. I want to kiss him. I want to run and never look back. I want to drag him to the nearest private corner and let him consume me.
“You’re so certain?” I challenge, searching his face. “Then tell me, High Prime, what am I thinking right now?”
His hand rises, thumb brushing across my lower lip. The touch is feather-light but ignites a fire that burns straight to my core.
“You’re thinking you want to prove me wrong,” he murmurs. “You’re thinking you can walk away and never look back. And you’re thinking about how good it would feel if I kissed you right now.”
Oh, fuck!I hate that he’s right. I hate that I’m so transparent to him. I hate that I’m still trembling at his touch despite everything.
“You think quite highly of your abilities,” I spit back, reminding myself of the decision I made. More than ever, I feel something dangerous lurks in the shadows, ready to devour me, and I can’t drag anyone else into whatever this is.
He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I’m the only one who will ever please you that way. The only one who understands you and can be the man you need.”
I shove him back, hard. “What I need,” I hiss, “is for you to get out of my way.”
But as I storm past him, the truth burns like fire in my veins.By Heratrix, he speaks truth. I feel it in my bones. And that terrifies me more than anything else, because if I can’t control this desire for him, what hope do I have of controlling anything else?
35
Rhea
The next morning, I slam my tray down next to Phoebe with enough force to make the watery porridge slosh over the sides. Sleep evaded me all night, my mind replaying Vaylen’s words on endless repeat. Everyone whispers and points at me, incredulous that I’m back and roaming free.
“Morning, sunshine,” Phoebe chirps, too bright for this ungodly hour. When I got to the barracks last night, she and Adelaide were the first ones to hear what happened.
Before I can grunt a response, Nate’s massive frame blocks the light as he drops onto the bench across from us. Adelaide slides in beside him, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a tight braid.
“Adelaide told me,” Nate says. “A mandate from the King, huh?”
I nod.
“Good,” he says. “That Chief Inspector is a weasel.”
“You look like something a Screechclaw regurgitated,” Adelaide says, eyeing my disheveled appearance.
“Thank you for that vivid image before breakfast,” I mutter, shoving a spoonful of lukewarm porridge into my mouth.
