Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Knowing that Naomi wouldn’t enjoy her evening when she felt she had to run interference, I told her I was going to call it a night. In all honesty, I should be tired, considering what little sleep I’d gotten the night before, but a nervous sort of energy coursed through me even after I changed into a slippery soft nightgown, leaving me restless and amped-up.

I was going to blame Naomi and her idea of behaving herself for that.

As I lay down on the bed, my mind was absolutely no help, deciding to alternate between the memory of the soft, teasing touches of Naomi’s and the . . . the feel of my lord’s hard, slick skin.

Skin flushed, I rolled onto my side, pressing my thighs together. A sharp pulse echoed throughout me. I bit down on my lip as I trailed my hand over my chest. The breath I took was shaky. His voice was so clear to me, as if he were beside me, whispering in my ear. My fingers spread, grazing a hardened nipple through the cotton nightgown. Except they weren’t my fingers. They were Naomi’s. They were his.

Heat sluiced through my veins, reigniting the ache deep inside me. I sucked in a gasp as my nails dragged over the peak of my breast. I moved restlessly, hips rocking. The tips of my breasts had never been all that sensitive, but they tingled then, becoming almost painful as damp heat gathered low, between my thighs. My pulse thrummed as I shifted onto my back, closing my eyes as I slipped my hand down over my stomach and lower, drawing the nightgown up as I went. Cool air kissed the heated space between my legs, wringing a soft gasp from me. I jerked as my fingers touched the bare skin of my upper thighs, burning me— burning through me, because it was their touch I conjured up.

I spread my thighs, my breaths coming in short, shallow pants as my fingers grazed the sensitive, taut flesh. I jerked again, toes curling as I dipped my fingers lower. Pressing my head back, I moaned as I lifted my hips. I teased just as I knew Naomi would have, just as I imagined my lord would if I had stayed in that shower. It wasn’t my fingers that plunged through my slippery wetness or curled around my breast. It was Naomi’s and then his, working me until I was thrusting up. I arched, wanting more. Needing more.

Touch me.

The memory of his voice tumbled me over the edge, into ecstasy, and I was swept away by the tense but too-short waves of pleasure. I was left panting and . . . and still aching.

Still unfulfilled.

Because it hadn’t been Naomi’s touch. It hadn’t been his. It had only been my own fingers.

I dragged in a deep breath, and my eyes flew open as I caught a faint woodsy, soft scent.

His scent.

I turned my head to the settee across from the bed, where I had left the cloak he had given me. I should do something with it. Donate it. Trash it. Maybe burn it.

I sighed, my gaze flicking to the ceiling, and then I sat up, going to the bathing chamber. I splashed cool water over my face, the restlessness still there, the—

The urge returned, the one from the solarium.

The want.

The need to be out there.

I padded barefoot to the window and looked out. Immediately, I spied the floating, glowing balls of light that appeared in the night sky somewhere between the end of spring and the beginning of summer, in the weeks before the Feasts, and then disappeared shortly after.

A smile raced across my face at the sight of them. I pushed away from the window and slipped my feet into a pair of thin-soled shoes. Grabbing a midnight-blue, short-sleeved robe from the bathing chamber, I slipped it on and belted it at my waist as I glanced at the lunea dagger on the nightstand, reminding myself to ask Grady if he had an extra sheath for it.

Leaving through the terrace doors, I crossed the back lawn, avoiding the partygoers as I made my way to the narrow footbridge that crossed the small stream and entered the gardens. I followed the winding path of the Baron’s gardens, focused on the bright spheres drifting down from high above like stars to float among the sweeping loblolly pine. The magical lights cast a soft glow as they filled the sky. They’d always fascinated me, even as a child. I couldn’t remember if the Prioress had ever told me why they appeared when they did. I’d asked Claude once, but he’d shrugged and said they were just a part of the Hyhborn.

That really hadn’t told me anything.

My steps slowed as one of the spheres, about the size of my hand, floated down from the trees to hover a few feet in front of me, surprising me. I’d never been this close to one, not even before I came to Archwood. I took a hesitant step forward, half afraid the orb would flutter away or disappear.

It didn’t.

The ball of light remained close enough for me to see that it wasn’t just one central light. My eyes widened. It was actually a series of tiny lights clustered together. The orb pulsed, then drifted away, slowly returning to the trees above. I watched the lights dip and rise as if they were joined in a dance before they fluttered back into the trees.

Toying with the edge of my braid, I started walking again, trailing after the lights as night birds sang from the trees. The peace of the gardens calmed my mind. I wondered if Claude would be against me setting up a . . . a hammock out here? I doubted I would have any problems—

Stop.

I jerked to a sudden halt. Brows knitting, I slowly turned and faced an archway to my right. My fingers twitched as an acute sense of awareness washed over me, pressing between my shoulder blades.

Intuition had sparked. It had done so well over an hour ago, I realized. There had been that urge to leave the solarium and enter the gardens.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered, staring into the darkened pathway.

I held myself still, my heart kicking unsteadily in my chest. Only the gods knew what my intuition wanted to lead me toward tonight. I didn’t even want to know. My fingers gave a spasm, muscles trembling as I fought the pull of intuition.

“Damn it.” I blew out an aggravated breath and crossed under the archway.

Very little moonlight pierced the large wisteria trees and their heavy vines, and only a few glowing spheres glided high up in the trees, their soft glow illuminating the pale blue trailing stems. Brushing aside the low-hanging limbs, I continued along the path, traveling deep within the wisteria trees.

Then I felt it, a sudden change to the air. It had cooled, but there was a thickness to it. A heaviness. Power. I’d felt this before—

“Like I just said, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A man was speaking up ahead. There was a . . . a cadence to his speech, where certain letters were trilled, that was uncommon to the Midlands region, but his voice also did something to me. It felt like thistle weeds against my skin, and it opened that door in my mind.

I saw red.

Dripping against stone.

Splattering pale blossoms.

Blood.

I halted, breath catching.

I saw nothing of those who spoke beneath the shadows of the wisteria trees, but I knew something bloody was about to happen.

Which meant I should be hightailing my ass out of there. The last thing I needed was to get caught up in whatever drama was about to go down. Whatever this was, especially after last night, it wasn’t my business.

But I saw blood.

Someone was going to be hurt.

My fingers curled around a stream of blossoms as I dragged my teeth over my lower lip. I should’ve just stayed in the solarium and drunk half my weight in liquor tonight. The sight, the voices, the knowing would’ve been silenced for a little while. I wouldn’t be standing here, on the verge of doing something very ill-advised— and my gods, just last night accounted for a year’s worth of foolishness.

I ordered myself to turn around, but that wasn’t what I was doing.

Inching forward, I gritted my teeth. There was nothing wrong with not wanting to get involved, I told myself. It didn’t make me a bad person. I’d proved that last night. Besides, what was I going to do to stop whatever was about to happen? Grady had taught me how to throw a pretty mean right hook, but I didn’t think that was going to be of much help.

“And I don’t like the accusations you’re making either,” the man continued. “Nor will he, and you should be concerned by that. You’re not untouchable, despite what you think.”

Knocking a wisteria vine aside, I plowed forward—

A dryly amused chuckle answered, causing tiny goose bumps to break out along my bare arms. That sound . . .

My eyes went wide as my foot immediately snagged on an exposed root. “Fuck,” I gasped, stumbling. I planted a hand on the rough bark of a nearby tree, catching myself before I planted my face into the ground.

Silence.

Utter complete silence surrounded me as I slowly lifted my head, face burning. I started to speak— to say what, I had no idea, because every single thought fled my mind as I saw two men standing beneath those damn spheres of light that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere to bear witness to my absolute fuckery. They both had turned toward me, and I zeroed in on the one my senses warned against.

He was blond and pale-skinned. Tall and attractive, his features so perfectly crafted that one would believe they’d been carved by the gods themselves, and I knew what that meant before I saw what was strapped to his hip. My blood immediately went cold at the sight of the dull, milky white of a lunea blade.

I didn’t know what shocked me more— that my intuition had actually worked with something that involved Hyhborn or that it had led me to . . . to him.

Fingers tangled in the vines, I could feel my heart pumping icy shock through my veins as my gaze shot to the other man, and I knew. I knew the moment I heard the soft, smoky chuckle.

Air leaked out of my lungs. He was standing mostly in the shadows and wearing all black. He would’ve blended into them if not for the glimpses of sandy-hued skin. I thought I might’ve forgotten how to breathe as he stepped more fully into the soft light of the orbs. I was sure the ground rolled beneath my feet.

It was him.

My Hyhborn lord.

The hard, carved line of his jaw tilted as his wide, lush lips curved into a half grin. “This is becoming a habit.”

“What is?” I heard myself whisper.

His features fell back into the shadows. “Meeting like this.”

“Who in the fuck is this?” the other Hyhborn demanded, jerking my attention back to him.

“I’m n-no one. I . . . I just was following the little balls of light— I like the balls . . . of light,” I blurted out, and my entire brain cringed. I like the balls? Gods. Untangling my fingers from the wisteria, I started to take a step back. “Sorry, please just forget that I was here— that I even exist.”

A slice of moonlight cut across the lower half of my Hyhborn’s face— and gods, he wasn’t mine. His grin had deepened. “One moment, please.”

The “please” stopped me.

Because a Hyhborn lord, even him, saying that? To me? A low-born? That was . . . that was unheard of. He hadn’t even said that last night, when he asked for my help.

Then everything happened so fast.

The other Hyhborn cursed, darting backward as he withdrew the lunea dagger, but the other lord was faster. He caught the Hyhborn by the wrist and twisted. The crack of bone was like thunder. I smacked my hand over my mouth, silencing a scream.

The Hyhborn hissed in pain as the blade fell to the ground. “You do this”— his lips peeled back— “you’ll regret it. With your very last breath, you will.”

“No, Nathaniel,” the Lord replied, and he sounded bored. Like Grady did whenever I started to talk about the different types of daisies. “I will not.”

I caught only a glimpse of the Lord’s fist. Just a second before it slammed against the Hyhborn’s chest— into his chest.

The one called Nathaniel threw his head back, his body jerking as my hand fell from my mouth.

“Just one more moment,” the Lord said, rather casually.

Golden fire erupted from Nathaniel’s chest— or from the Lord’s hand, which was still plunged deep inside said chest. The fire spread over Nathaniel in a rippling, violent wave of vibrant gold flames, and I suddenly knew exactly how the blacksmith’s and the Twin Barrels had been incinerated. Within a few heartbeats, all that remained of Nathaniel was . . . was a pile of ash and a few strips of charred clothing beside the fallen lunea blade.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, horrified . . . and a little awed by the display of power, but mostly horrified as I lifted my gaze. Behind where Nathaniel had stood, the pale blossoms were splattered with blood, just as I’d seen.

I lifted my stare to the Lord, who . . . who could barely walk on his own last night, whom I had just fantasized about while pleasuring myself, and he’d . . .

And he’d incinerated another with his hand.

If he could do that to one of his own, what in the whole wide realm of nope could he do to a lowborn?

I took a shaky step back, reminded once more of exactly what this lord was. Somehow, I’d forgotten that.

“Na’laa,”the Lord called softly.

My entire body jolted.

A strand of hair slipped forward and fell against his jaw as he bent, wiping his hand on one of the pieces of burnt clothing. “You should come closer.”

I inched back another step. “I don’t know about that.”

“Are you finally afraid of me?” the Lord asked, picking up the fallen lunea blade.

I wasn’t sure, but I knew I should be. I should be terrified.

His head cut in my direction. “Don’t move any further— ”

I moved several more feet. Somehow the fire he’d created was more unnerving than seeing him tear out Weber’s windpipe. I wasn’t even sure why, but—

Something snagged my braid, jerking me back. I cried out as pain radiated down my neck and spine. My feet slipped out from underneath me as I was spun. A hand clamped down on my throat. Dragged back against a wall of a chest, I gripped the hand upon my throat, and I heard absolutely nothing as I saw the tall Hyhborn lord through the swaying wisteria vines.

“Muriel,” the Lord drawled, and shock rolled through me. I knew that name. Finn and Mickie had spoken it. “I’ve spent all day looking for you.”

“Don’t come any closer,” the one holding me warned as I clawed at his hand, breaking my nails on the hard flesh of another Hyhborn.

The Hyhborn lord prowled forward slowly, the trailing vines lifting and swinging out of his way before his body even came into contact with them. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” the Lord said, ignoring Muriel. “But didn’t I tell you not to move?”

“I— ”

“Stop,” Muriel growled, cutting me off. His grip on my throat tightened. Panic threatened to seize me. “Or I will snap her fucking neck.”

“That neck is a pretty one,” the Hyhborn lord responded. “But why, Muriel, would you think I’d care if you did snap it?”

“Bastard,” I hissed before I could stop myself, disbelief having loosened my tongue.

The Lord cocked his head. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

I gaped at him. I’d helped him last night. Got him to safety. Risked my own life, and he didn’t care if my neck was snapped. “You just said— ”

Muriel dug his fingers into my throat, ending my words in a strangled gasp. “What did you do to Nathaniel?” he demanded.

“Put him in a time-out.” Another stream of blossoms fluttered out of his path. “Permanently.”

Muriel inched us back, forcing me onto the tips of my toes. “Why in the hell would you do that?”

“You know better than to ask that question, but since I’m feeling generous tonight, I’ll explain it to you. Besides the fact he was boring me,” the Lord answered, “he set me up. So did you.”

Muriel halted as I strained against his hold. “Yeah, I do know better.” He cursed again. “I should’ve known better than to trust lowborn to get the job done.”

“You should have.” The Lord paused. “And you should stop struggling while Muriel and I have our little chat. If not, you’re only going to harm yourself.”

Stop struggling? While Muriel crushed my windpipe?

“And you should be more worried about your own neck,” Muriel spat.

“Your concern for me warms my heart.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Muriel yanked me harshly to the side as I struggled to break free. Nothing worked. His hold remained firm. “You know, you brought this onto yourself.”

“And how did I do that?”

“Play coy all you want. It won’t work for much longer,” Muriel snarled. “There’s only one reason why you were willing to risk your ass to get that information from us.”

“Speaking of that information,” the Lord replied. “Was any of it true?”

“Fuck you,” spat Muriel.

The Lord sighed.

“How do you think the King’s going to respond when he learns of what you were looking for?” Muriel shot back. I truly had no idea what they were speaking of. “The King’s going to have your head.”

“Doubtful.” The Lord chuckled again, and the sound raised the hairs on the nape of my neck. “I’m one of the King’s favorites, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Not after tonight,” Muriel promised. “Not when he learns the truth.”

The truth of what?

The Lord had stopped coming closer. He now stood a few feet from us. “I’m curious, Muriel, as to why you actually believe the King would hear of anything that has occurred this night? Or even last night?”

Muriel stiffened behind me, seeming to sense the not-so-veiled threat in the Lord’s words. A stuttered heartbeat passed. “I’m leaving.”

“Okay?” The Lord cocked his head.

“I mean it,” Muriel said, and I thought I heard a tremor in his words. “You come after me, I’ll rip her heart out.”

“Does it look like I’m trying to stop you from leaving?” the Lord asked.

It didn’t.

It really didn’t.

I didn’t know why I expected anything different from the Lord. Even my Hyhborn lord. He’d needed my aid last night. He clearly didn’t need it tonight. I was a fool, because a feeling of . . . of betrayal settled in deep, which even I could admit made no sense. Just because I had helped him last night didn’t mean he was obligated to me.

Gods, I really wished I hadn’t thought of him when I touched myself.

My heart sank as Muriel moved us back through the wisteria vines. The fragrant limbs fell in place, forming a curtain that quickly obscured the Lord. Muriel was dragging me farther into the trees— away from the manor, and that was bad, because I seriously doubted this Hyhborn would let me go once he was clear of the Lord.

Panic exploded. I struggled wildly, kicking at Muriel’s legs as I beat on his arm. Each blow I landed sent a ripple of pain up my arm and leg. I gagged, eyes widening as he spun us around. I flailed against his hold, throwing my weight in every direction.

A guttural sound of warning echoed from Muriel as he lifted me off my feet. “Keep it up and I’ll— Fuck.”

Something large and dark crashed into us, knocking Muriel back several feet. He slammed into a tree, the impact shaking him first, then me. He grunted, his grip remaining as my legs started to cave.

A blur of movement whipped the loose hairs around my face. I saw a glimpse of a hand coming down on Muriel’s arm, then a flash of the milky-white lunea blade. The pressure lifted from my neck, but there was no time to feel any relief, to even catch my breath. Another hand clamped down on my arm. I was flung sideways— thrown. For a moment, I was weightless among the sweetly scented blossoms. There was no up or down, sky or ground, and in those seconds, I realized it was over. The running. The loneliness. It was all over. The Baron was going to be so sad when he found my broken body.

I hit the ground hard, rattling every bone in my body as my head snapped back. Stunning, brutal pain whipped through me.

Then there was nothing.