Chapter 20

Senka

Islunk through the servant's tunnels, as silent and swift as a cat on the prowl. The darkness was my ally, cloaking me as I made my way towards the balcony where I'd first met Rosalind.

Clad in the shadows and wrapped in a cloak of midnight, I was all but invisible to any passing guards or prying late-night eyes. My hood shielded my face from view, leaving only my silver gaze visible in the dim light.

Like the hidden blade strapped to my thigh, I was a wraith set on destruction. I found the balcony and with the help of my shadows, I climbed over the railing, dropping stealthily to the next level, where yet another balcony waited. When I reached the ground, I ran.

The palace grounds and the city beyond at night was a different beast, one that hummed with danger constantly. I avoided the pools of light cast by the sporadic torches that lined the thoroughfares.

The soft clink of armor or the murmur of a drowsy sentry would have me pressing against the cool stone walls of the outer gates, waiting for them to pass, blissfully unaware of the specter in their midst.

it didn't take me long to make my way to the lower city, my shoulders dropping with relief once I entered familiar territory. The streets were alive with activity, unlike the upper city. Music filled the night, and the smell of delicious food tempted me.

Even the children were awake late into the night, laughing and running through the streets, some of them playing with their blessings. A boy no older than seven was riding on the back of a large, shaggy dog while chasing a group of girls. I'd seen him around before, the son of a seamstress that lived above one of the cafes.

He had the blessing of speaking to animals, but not the ability to understand them when they spoke back. It was why he was living as an undesirable in the lower city rather than conscripted into service of the empire.

The familiar chill of the subterranean air grazed my skin as I descended into The Smoke, the city"s underbelly that pulsed with clandestine mischief. My boots kissed the ancient stones with scarcely a whisper. The darkness here was a different breed—thick, almost tangible, as if it were woven from my own shadows.

Cross"s domain—a realm where even the walls seemed to listen and the dim torchlight cast an eerie glow—painted the damp stone with flickers of gold and amber. The smell of smoke permeated every inch of the place I'd called home for more than a decade.

I had to admit it felt good to be home, even for just a little while. A weight I hadn't realized had been pressing down on me, lifted after weeks of pretending.

I cautiously made my way through the maze-like catacombs, avoiding the main room and taking a longer path that led to the man with the ability to see the threads of fate.

The location of the underlord"s sleeping quarters was a closely guarded secret, known only to a chosen few. In a world filled with unscrupulous individuals vying for the privilege to take his place, it was a wise decision to keep it hidden. But I was one of the select few who knew.

Cutting through the silence like a blade, a scream echoed from up ahead—raw and wrought with torment. Instinctively, my hand drifted to the hilt of my dagger, the cool metal a familiar comfort.

My pace quickened, shadows coiling around me like serpents as I neared Cross"s chamber. The cry had been abruptly silenced, but the echo of it lingered in the stale air. Fear, icy and sharp, lanced through me—not for my own safety, but for the man who wielded a blessing that could topple empires.

Another broken scream echoed from the other side of the heavy door. Without a shred of hesitation, I sent my shadows through the keyhole and unlocked it from the inside.

"Cross!" I cried out as I entered the room.

He was on the floor, his back arched as he writhed in pain. Beads of sweat glistened on his tanned skin, and his eyes remained wide open but wholly unseeing. The rune tattoos on his skin were glowing bright white, matching his eyes.

I'd seen this before, and it was just as violent as the last time I'd witnessed him receiving a vision from the gods. It was a violent blessing. This much divine power flowing through one human body was dangerous, and yet Cross bore it.

His pale white hair clung to his forehead, long strands coming loose from his braid. His fingers were curled into tight fists beside him as his body seemed to contort into unnatural angles. He moaned in pain before crying out again.

I knelt beside him, my black cloak whispering over the floor as I moved, lowering my hood from my head.

"Cross, it"s Senka," I murmured, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of fear and adrenaline that threatened to consume me. "Come back to me."

My fingers brushed his temples, coaxing away the visions that wracked his unseeing eyes. My shadows coiled inside of me, sensing a threat nearby. The gods were alive in this room, with us right this moment. They toyed with their creations and probably enjoyed the torment more than anything else.

"Let the divine pass through you," I whispered as I stroked his hair back from his face. "Let it go, Cross."

His body spasmed, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as his muscles tensed and strained against my grip. The air around us crackled and hummed with the weight of their message, its unstoppable force pulsing through him like a raging river.

"Come back to me, Cross," I whispered again, hoping that the sound of a voice in the distance might guide him out of the god's embrace. "Come back."

Minutes or hoursmight have passed before his muscles, once coiled tight with agony, began to ease under the balm of my touch, the lines of suffering on his face softening. I pulled my cloak around and used the fabric to dab at the sweat beading on his forehead.

With a shuddering exhale, Cross"s body relaxed, his back sinking to the stone floor beneath us. The vision released him, retreating like the tide from the shore, leaving behind a man marked by the gods but alive—alive and gazing up at me with pale white eyes that held the remnants of agonizing pain.

Relief, raw and palpable, flickered across his features, quickly chased by a spark of something else—something that sent a jolt through the cool detachment I wore like armor around the underlord.

"Senka," he rasped, his voice the sound of gravel, carrying with it a note of desire potent enough to make me shift beneath his head, where I still cradled him gently.

I held his gaze, feeling the pulse of my heart quicken. The air between us crackled with a palpable tension, charged and waiting. I didn't often find myself alone with Cross, but lately, things had changed.

The first time we fucked, had been a mistake. Or so we thought at the time. We'd been arguing, and things escalated. When the tension snapped, it was a whirlwind of need and passion that neither of us had the power to stop.

"Fuck," Cross breathed out, his voice a roughened whisper that seemed to stroke against my skin. He winced as he moved his arm from it's frozen position, his body finally unlocking fully.

His hand reached up, tentative yet bold, brushing a strand of dark hair from my face. The touch sent shivers down my spine, the simplicity of it more intimate than any kill I had ever made.

"Cross," I murmured back, my voice laced with a need I couldn"t—wouldn"t—suppress if I could help it. The shadows around us seemed to lean in, my own still writhing inside me.

He was on me in seconds, flipping me over until my back hit the cold stone floor. It was then that I realized he was shirtless, his toned and tanned body covered in scrawling silver tattoos.

His hips rolled against mine, and even through my leather pants, I could feel the hardness of him. Even after what could likely have been hours of pain, he was strong and full of pent up rage. His white eyes roved over the shadowed planes of my face.

"Why are you here?" he asked gruffly.

I frowned up at him. "We need to talk."

"I think I prefer not talking," he said, rocking his hips against me again. "I think. I prefer it when you're screaming instead."

It took all of my willpower to keep my moan at bay as he leaned down, skimming his nose along the hollow of my throat before placing a delicate kiss against my skin.

"Talk later," he gritted through clenched teeth. Reaching between us, he unfastened my cloak. "I need to fuck you now." My pants were next; the laces were undone in a matter of seconds. And then Cross was kneeling as he ripped them down my legs.

I grumbled and shoved at him, causing him to stumble with a curse. But before he could growl something at me, I was shucking off my boots and pants completely, ripping my black shirt over my head and tossing it away.

Cross pulled his cock from his trousers and covered me again, spreading my thighs. He stroked himself as he peppered kisses between my breasts, and then took one nipple between his teeth and bit down, making me yelp.

"What did the gods tell you?" I managed to breathe out between pants. I gripped his braid, forcing his eyes to meet mine. "Tell me."

"They tell me lots of things, my shadow." His breath whispered over my lips. "But tonight was…informative."

"Elaborate please," I gritted out.

His lips quirked wickedly. "Not until I've had you. It's been weeks and I'm starved."

My breath hitched at the rawness of those words. As if he'd been waiting for me. Was I the only one? Surely not. He was the underlord. A powerful man who could have any woman or man he wanted.

He breathed in deeply, taking in my scent as he traced a finger along my collarbone. "Say yes," he pleaded, almost to himself.

I said nothing. I simply looked into his eyes, my heart thrumming wildly. I ached for him. I needed this as much as he did, and one look into my eyes told him as much. He saw my answer before I spoke a single word.

His smile was cruel, his eyes full of hunger. And then he entered me, rough and unyielding, filling me completely.

He groaned, his breath hot against my ear. "You have no idea how good you feel on my cock, my shadow."

I let out a strangled cry as he thrust into me, his hands grabbing my hips, his nails digging into my flesh. The pain and pleasure mingled inside of me, a heady mix of agony and ecstasy.

He flipped us over so that I was now straddling him, my hair cascading around us like a curtain of midnight. He held onto my hips as I moved slowly on top of him, my body swaying with a newfound rhythm.

Our previous encounters were fueled by anger and roughness, but this was something entirely different. He matched my movements with ease, savoring every moment of agonizing pleasure. Sweat coated our bodies, and our moans filled the room.

His cock hit me deeply, and a new sensation began to build in my lower belly. It was a gentle tingle that had tendrils of warmth spreading through my body.

He tugged on my hair, pulling me down to him, and our lips met and our tongues danced. He moaned into my mouth, sinking his fingers into my thick strands, holding me tightly against him.

With a growl, he sat up, pulling me with him so that I fully straddled his lap. As he gripped my hair with one hand, holding my head steady, he choked me lightly with the other, choosing when and how to cut off my airway. He knew how I liked it. He knew how I needed it.

I moved faster, chasing my release with closed eyes and parted lips as I moaned.

He cursed, over and over again as my heavy breasts bounced against his sweat-slicked chest. It didn't take long for me to tip over the edge, bringing Cross with me.

In the dark,a deep voice spoke my name softly. I felt a warm, calloused finger trace lazy, swirling patterns down my spine.

I didn"t answer at first, my mind grasping at the threads of reality that began to weave back around me.

I'd fallen asleep at some point in the night and had no idea how long I'd been here. It could have been hours, and with the catacomb's lack of windows, it was impossible to know for sure.

"Cross?" I finally whispered.

A sudden sense of urgency washed over me, mingling with panic. I rose from my perch over his naked chest, my movements swift and silent. He didn't try to stop me or even reach for me as I scrambled off of him and stood on shaking legs, gathering my black hood and cloak from where they lay discarded.

My hands shook slightly as I dressed, the fabric whispering over my now chilled skin. Each piece of clothing felt like armor, shielding not just my body but also what little sanity remained intact.

What in the god's name had I been thinking?

As I fastened my cloak, the weight of what we'd done fell on me, heavy and inescapable. It'd never felt like that before, and I wasn't sure how it made me feel. Elated maybe? Guilty? Paranoid? I had no idea.

What I did know was that I hadn't come here for this.

I faced Cross as he too dressed and stood, with my shoulders back and my face devoid of any emotion. "Like I said. We need to talk."