Chapter 4

The Necromancer

The Shadow Master blinks as he sees me. His eyes are a little wider than usual.

Startled. I realise he's actually startled.

I taste blood on my tongue. One of them fed me. Archie. I taste him all the way down the back of my throat.

Fuckers.

I was enjoying my wine-fuelled fog. Trust them to force-feed me their blood and sober me up.

The Shadow Master rises, meeting the level of his gaze with mine. When he shifts, I feel the tug of a familiar chain around my neck. Looking down, I see the end wrapped several times around his wrist.

I'm on a fucking leash… again!

What is wrong with these psychopaths? They declare their all-consuming love for me, then tether me up like a feral mongrel. They swear to make things right but refuse to let me leave their sights for a moment or give me any privacy or space. They expect me to return to what we were for that brief little time when I was actually happy and excited about life.

Before they betrayed me.

Hatred bubbles in the pit of my stomach, making me release an involuntary, animalistic growl.

His eyes narrow in response to my threat, and the shadows around him vibrate. He watches my gaze return to the chain.

Another growl ripples from my chest.

‘It's for your own safety,' he says, his fingers flexing around the chain and reaffirming his grip.

I reach out and snake the chain around my fingers, not once looking away from him.

‘Don't start something you won't be able to finish, Poppet.'

I continue twisting the chain, pulling his hand closer.

The fucker's lip twitches as he attempts to hold his smirk.

I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and face him, still pulling the chain closer. He comes with it until his face is an inch from mine. I stop twirling the chain when his knuckles and mine meet. I want to rip it from his hand and wrap it around his neck. I want to pull it so tight that his bones break and his eyes pop out from his skull.

If I tried, I would lose. I know that.

His dark eyes stare into what little soul I have left.

And I hate that the rage and unease in my heart calm in an instant. His aura douses my wrath.

I won't let that stop me.

‘Master. How may I serve you?' I ask, venom dripping from every word.

‘You're finally speaking. Good. But don't call me that.'

‘Are you not holding my leash? Am I not your dog? Your bitch?'

He leans closer so his nose rests on mine. His warm breath lands on my lips as he lets out a long exhale.

‘No. You are neither my bitch nor my dog. You're-'

‘If you say Pixie… I will bite your fucking nose off.'

‘You're mine.' He drops the chain and wraps his fingers around my wrist instead. ‘That's what you are. What you will always be.'

When he goes to kiss me, I wrap my fingers around his throat. A dark smile curls his lips, and it grows as I squeeze.

‘Where's Neve?' I ask.

‘No idea.'

‘Where's Cole?'

He shrugs.

‘The Dream Walker and the Wolf?'

He scoffs at my words. At my refusal to use their names

‘Clearing the castle of fae wine. If you're going to threaten us, at least you can do it without slurring.'

Flushed with a wave of anger, I stand and look at the bedroom door. He still has hold of my wrist. His grip tightens, and his lips meet my stomach, planting a gentle kiss on my flesh. I see his black eyes looking up at me through his lashes.

He kisses me again.

I'm stood before the Shadow Master utterly naked. I have no shame. There's no room inside me for something so trivial. The lust and devotion he has as he looks up at me makes me want to make him suffer.

Make him pay.

I run my fingers through his hair as he plants another kiss on my belly.

‘You think that you get to betray me, use me, restrain me and treat me like shit… and then kiss me?' I ask.

‘You smell amazing when you're angry, my Poppet Doll.' His tongue grazes my skin.

‘I'm not angry,' I correct, tugging his hair and pulling his head up. ‘I'm indifferent to you. You're all beneath me.'

There it is—that flicker of hatred I knew from when we first met. I feel comfortable with that.

With hate and disdain.

Him the witch killer.

Me, the witch.

Nothing more.

‘You're indifferent?' he repeats.

‘Extremely.' I tighten my hold on his hair, knotting my fingers around the roots as I tilt his head back.

His teeth sharpen as he slowly grins. Especially when I step closer, putting my stomach a hair's breadth from his mouth.

‘Liar,' he smiles. ‘Your scent betrays you.' He briefly looks down at what's between my legs before returning his gaze up to me. ‘And you forget. I'm linked to you. I feel what you feel.'

‘And what do I feel?' I sneer.

‘Hate. Pain. Lust. Fear.'

‘Fear,' I scoff. ‘I am not afraid of you.'

‘No. You're afraid of what you are. Of what you may become. Of the overwhelming urges you have. To drink blood. To fuck until your legs buckle. To kill. To forgive, just so you can feel what you once felt for us. You can forgive us. It wouldn't make you weak.'

With all this newfound strength, I toss him across the room, snatching the chain from reach as he soars away.

He's quick to right himself, returning to his feet with surprising ease.

We face one another.

My poppet doll lies abandoned between us. The crude dolly of straw, clay and blood with my hair stuck to the top of its head. He glances at it, wondering if he can reach it before I do.

‘Do it,' I encourage him, nodding to the miniature version of me. ‘Grab it. Use it. That's what you do, right, Shadow Master? You control and manipulate others. Take them as you please. Kill them with your little dolls or your shadows, and claim their souls.'

His brow furrows.

‘Take my soul, Shadow Master. I'll haunt you and revel in every second as I slowly drive you mad, right along with all the other souls you've stolen. You will never know a moment of peace as I make your black heart rot.'

‘Loving you will never bring me peace.'

‘Good. Then love me harder and suffer more.'

As I talk, his shadows darken and spread behind him.

Good. I want angry. I want nasty. I want my words to hurt and cause him agony.

I want him to fucking hate me as much as I hate him.

I wrap the silver chain loosely around my neck to get it out of the way and continue watching him. Waiting.

He places his feet together and straightens. He's not taking the bait.

With an eye roll, I collect a black silk robe from the wardrobe and cover myself. When I reach the door, I look back over my shoulder. He hasn't moved an inch.

I throw the door open, slamming it into the wall as hard as possible, and walk out into the hallway. After a couple of steps, I feel a slight pressure around my chest.

I know he's picked up the doll. It's in his grip, held fast but not too tight. My steps slow as I await the tug for when he calls me back.

But the tug never comes.

The Shadow Master lets me leave.

So I do. And I don't look back.

My teeth sharpen as I walk away, splitting my lip wide open. The Shadow Master growls as he catches the scent, and I quickly try to lick the blood away.

Fucking fangs.

I head straight for the kitchen, seeking out another bottle of fae wine. They don't want me to drink?

I'll drink the damned wine cellar.

I'm not sure if they have one, but I'm having it if they do.

When I get there, I quickly realise Dorian was telling the truth. All that remains are empty bottles and the overwhelming smell of alcohol wafting in through the open window.

Shit.

Bastards!

There's a thud. Then another and another. Following the sound, I come to a slightly ajar door down a hallway I've never seen before. When I open it, I see a shirtless wolf in human form slamming an axe into the stone floor of a disused study.

He raises the axe above his head, his back muscles bulging before he slams it down, shattering the stone and revealing a layer of earth beneath. He kicks it aside, adding the slab to the growing pile beneath the open window.

The pull of the soil ripples through the air, seeking me out. The endless life and possibilities, the miles of roots and scrambling of insects.

Life. Strength. Power.

It calls me in a beautiful song. A lullaby, filling the emptiness the guys put inside me. Easing the burn of my anger.

My teeth retract, and I lap up the last bead of blood from my lip.

‘Morning, Pix,' the Wolf greets, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grips the axe tightly. ‘Sober at last, I see. Will I be hearing you speak today?'

Pulling my focus from his stomach to his face takes a lot. The lust in me is intense. Since I changed, my urges are so powerful that it takes all I have not to give in to them, especially when they're half-naked, sweaty and looking like that.

Angry. I'm angry. Focus on that emotion, Ashe.

He grins as our eyes meet, and he points the axe at me.

‘And where do you think you're off to?'

‘I was looking for wine.'

‘You'll be looking for a fair while, Pix.' He rests the axe over his shoulder blades, standing proudly. ‘I dumped it all. You could slurp it up from the mud if you like, but I wouldn't recommend it. Might get worms.' His eyes narrow. ‘You bite yourself again?' His eyes linger on my barely healed lip. ‘The teeth can be tricky at first. I can teach you-'

‘What are you doing in here?' I ask.

‘Do you like it?' he asks, looking around the mess. ‘It will look better once it's done. Imagine the stone gone and nothing but soil. We'll get some flowers in here—a bed, of course. Maybe some vines so they can climb the walls.'

‘You're making me a garden… inside the castle?'

‘Yeah. I guess.' He looks back at me, that smile stretched across his face. ‘Cool, huh?'

I'm not interested in anything he has to say, nor saying anything to him. I turn to leave, slamming into the Dream Walker's chest as I do. Beside him is the Shadow Master.

Typical. Of course, he went to fetch him.

I sidestep. So does he.

‘You won't get past us, Pixie. So don't even try,' the Dream Walker groans. ‘I promise. You won't enjoy it if you do try.'

‘I enjoy nothing that involves you three,' I sneer in reply, knowing that he's right. Not with their marks on my skin, the Shadow Master's doll, my chain within reach and their combined strength and speed.

The corner of his mouth hitches into a half smile.

‘Now that's one hell of a fucking lie, isn't it, Pixie? I know you enjoy the three of us extensively when the mood strikes.'

‘That was before you betrayed me, got me killed, turned me into a monster, resurrected the Blood Queen, who also happens to be your ex as well as my mother, and allowed her to escape with my lunatic ex-fiancé.' I poke his chest. ‘Remember all that, Dream Walker?'

‘Vividly.' He removes the space between us with a purposeful stride. ‘We're going to talk. Are you going to make this harder than it needs to be?'

‘I have nothing to say to you. Mother fucker.'

The Wolf snorts out a laugh.

The Dream Walker's palm rests on my stomach as he steps towards me, pushing me back into the room the Wolf is currently demolishing.

‘Let me pass.'

‘No,' he says darkly, taking another step inside. He kicks the door shut behind him, sealing the four of us inside. ‘You're not going anywhere, Pixie. Not until we get what we want from you.'