Eighteen

King Lockhart’s guttural cry bruises my ears, and I’m on my feet in an instant. Around me, nobles run screaming, their faces twisted in terror as the grand dining hall morphs into a nightmare of smoke and flames and the wails of an injured king.

“Secure the king!” Four’s shout barely pierces the chaos, but it’s enough to mobilize the guards. They burst through the haze, their burnished armor reflecting the frantic dance of the flames. “This is what happens when we let our guard down! Search the palace. Search the city. Bring any to me who are found conspiring against the crown.”

The air fills with shouts, the roar of fire, the crash of furniture as the guards move. They shove through the panicked crowd with ruthless efficiency, trampling anyone in their path as they surround the king and move him to safety.

Flames lick up the rich tapestries, their orange and yellow tongues greedily tasting before devouring them whole. They gorge on the walls and consume the silken tablecloths, dining on the feast laid out for a king.

Screams scorch the air, the feast forgotten, abandoned as lords, ladies, and attendants rush to exit. The room is a chaotic swirl of fire and smoke, bodies, and screams. Heat presses against my sweat-slick skin, yet I’m frozen in place. Kane squeezes my hand, and I don’t know how long he’s been holding it, but the connection jolts me into action.

I trip over upturned chairs and broken plates as he pulls me behind him. My eyes sting and tear, and I continue to race after him, trusting his firm grip, trusting him to lead me to safety. Bodies slam against me from all sides, and my hold on him weakens as the crowd surges like a wave breaking over rocks.

“Kane!” I shout, but my voice is lost in the cacophony.

My hand is torn from his, and I lose him in the swell of bodies crashing between us.

“Kane!” I scream his name again, my voice strangled beneath a blanket of smoke as panic flares in my chest.

I’m jostled from side to side, a buoy in a stormy sea of panic and chaos. The crush of bodies presses against me, and I lose my balance and stumble backward. My arms flail, my fingers glancing off rushing limbs. Finally, I collide with something solid. My eyes meet Four’s, ablaze with a vicious blue light that makes me wish I’d fallen to the floor.

He snarls at me, low and guttural, and with a violent shove, my wish is granted. Four sends me careening into the flames, my back slamming into the wall. Searing heat scorches the hem of my gown. In a horrifying whoosh, my skirts ignite.

A scream lodges in my throat as I frantically swat at the flames crawling up my dress. I only seem to fan them, the heat unbearable as I struggle to put out the fire.

The world tilts and spins. Tears stream down my face, smoke clouding my vision. The exit may as well be miles away. Desperation claws at me as fire turns my skirts into ashes and embers. Smoke fills my lungs, choking off the sounds of my screams as my vision blurs and dark spots dance at the edges of my sight.

A shadow moves through the haze. It reaches me just as my legs buckle, heat and smoke siphoning away the last of my strength. I sway, about to collapse, when strong hands grip my shoulders.

“Hannah!” Kane strips off his jacket and smothers the flames burning through my gown. The fabric smolders, and Kane doesn’t hesitate. He tears the charred fabric from my dress and scoops me into his arms. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shirt as he pushes through the crowded hall, his body shielding mine from the worst of the heat.

Around us, attendants and guards fight to control the fire, their faces streaked with sweat and soot. Armed with buckets of sand and water, they shout orders, their voices sharp above the hiss and sputter of dying flames.

With a grunt, Kane removes one arm from around me, and his skin grows incredibly hot beneath the layers of his clothes. I move to jump from him, to put out the flames that have claimed him, but he presses me closer.

“I am well, Little Fawn. All will be well.”

Through my tear-swirled vision, I spot a light pouring from Kane’s hand. It’s golden yellow, nearly indistinguishable from the chaos of the fire, but I’ve seen this kind of magick before. “You’re putting out the flames.”

“I have helped as best I can,” he says, not slowing down as we reach the grand staircase.

“You have to go back. Put it out completely.”

“They would kill me for practicing magick, for having it at all. And I have done more than what you saw. It will not spread farther, but we must escape this smoke.”

I cling to him, my arms tight around his neck, my face buried against his chest. His muscles flex with each powerful step, his breath steady despite the strain. The stairs blur beneath us as he climbs. The higher we go, the cooler the air, the heavy smoke unable to follow us into the sanctuary of the upper floors.

We reach our room, and Kane kicks the door open without breaking his stride. He gently sets me down on the plush edge of the bed, the silk duvet cool against my tender skin. He turns back, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

My body trembles, my heart still pounding in my chest as the quiet of the room unfurls around me, and I breathe in lungfuls of crisp, clean air.

“Are you hurt?” Kane tears off his eye patch and crouches in front of me, his dark gaze searching mine for any signs of pain. He caresses my arms, gentle and careful, as if I might shatter under his touch, before moving his hands to my legs. He rips away my stockings and cautiously examines my skin beneath, pink with heat.

I shake my head and blow out a long, slow breath. “I’m not hurt.”

The intensity in his gaze never wavers, his eyes dark and full of a fierce protectiveness as his fingers trail up my calves. The warmth of his touch spills into my skin, easing the lingering tension, and I lean against him, catching my breath in the safety of his arms.

“You saved me. Again.” My voice wavers, the adrenaline ebbing, leaving a tremble in its wake.

He lifts his hand, then hesitates a moment before brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. His touch is light, but it brings a new wave of heat rolling against my skin as his fingers trail down my cheek.

“Fawn…”

The room seems to close in around us, the sounds of the ongoing rush to extinguish the withering flames a distant rumble beneath the pulse throbbing in my ears.

His fingers graze my chin, lifting it slightly, his face inching closer to mine. He smells like smoke and pine and something distinctly Kane.

“I will always save you.”

His other hand wraps around my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. His gaze slides to my lips, lingering, questioning. Our eyes meet, and without another word, his mouth crashes over mine in a desperate, fiery claim.

I reach up, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, needing the connection, needing him.

He wraps his arms around me, pressing me to him. Hungry to feel his naked skin, I tear at the collar of his shirt. He stops me, grabbing my wrists, and I moan as he breaks the kiss, our foreheads resting against each other, our breaths mingling.

“Patience, Little Fawn.” His hand strokes down the column of my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, over the plump rise of my breasts pushing against the strict confines of my corset. “I like to take my time.”

He stands and pulls me to my feet before hooking his fingers over the back of my dress. With a sharp tug, he rips away what’s left of the soot-streaked fabric. It falls around my feet like a tattered rag. And, once again, I’m in front of him in nothing but laces and silk.

“I nearly lost you.” His voice is a rough whisper as he undoes the pins from my hair with deliberate slowness. “And without tasting you first.” He fists my long braid in his hand and pulls it down until my face tilts up. “A mistake I will not make again.”

He claims my mouth with a ferocity that makes me moan. My fingers fly to his waistband, desperate to free his cock, to feel him against me.

Using my braid for leverage, he jerks my head back, breaking our kiss once again. “What did I say about patience?”

It’s a question that doesn’t require an answer, but I offer one anyway. “I’ve been good.”

He releases my braid and slides his rough palm over the swell of my breasts. “Have you?”

His touch ignites a fire, and I can only nod, desire surging through me, slick heat trailing down my inner thighs. He backs away and begins a slow circle around me, his dark eyes trailing over every inch of my body.

He stops behind me, and his words vibrate against my back. “Should we see how good of a girl you can be?” He pulls my corset laces, and I suck in a breath as it tightens around me. “These laces are designed to constrain and define, but I wonder how well they hold when pushed to their limits.”

I swallow. “Should we find out?” I ask, my voice a breathy plea.

He unknots the laces, pulling them free from their loops with tortuous slowness. The corset loosens, and I fill my lungs, the cool air rushing in. I want to rip the rest of it off, to turn and wrap myself around him, to feel every inch of this man against me, inside me.

Instead, Kane takes his time peeling the corset from my waist. The wide boning stamped a pattern against my skin, marking me as his. Corset discarded, he guides me to face him, scarlet laces gathered in his fist, his dark gaze trailing over me, searing my skin.

My heart pounds in anticipation, every nerve ending alive, as he lays me back onto the soft cocoon of the bed.

He holds the laces above me like a weapon, a tool of restraint and release as he guides my hands above my head. He ties one end of the laces around my right wrist, then my left, like silken cuffs. His rough fingers graze my skin, and I twist against the bed, desperate for him.

He smiles that sinful smile that’s made promises I know he intends to keep as he stretches my arms above my head and secures the other end of the silk laces to the bedpost. Kane licks his lips and leans back, taking in the sight of me spread out before him, my wrists bound, my naked body completely at his mercy.

“Gods, you’re exquisite,” he murmurs, desire burning in his eyes, a barely restrained need that matches my own.

He leans down, his lips capturing mine in a searing kiss that steals my breath and leaves me gasping and dizzy, my heart pounding in my chest.

Kane slides down my body. The fabric of his clothed skin brushes against me, making me shiver as his lips leave a trail of fire along my neck. When he reaches my breasts, he pauses, looking up at me with a wicked glint in his eyes before taking one nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the tight peak before sucking gently. His hand moves to my other breast. His fingers pinch and roll my nipple, matching the rhythm of his mouth.

I arch my back, pressing myself closer to him. He responds by sucking harder, his teeth grazing my sensitive skin in a way that makes me gasp and pull at my restraints. His mouth leaves my breast, only to move to the other, giving it the same attentive, excruciating pleasure. He nibbles lightly, then soothes with his tongue, flicking over the pebbled bud.

He releases my nipple, his breath hot against my wet skin. He looks up at me, his dark eyes endless. Then he shifts lower, resuming his descent. His fingers brush teasing trails along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he spreads my legs wide. Kane’s mouth follows the path of his fingers, and I bite my lower lip, my breath fluttering as the cool air brushes against the wetness that awaits him.

“Kane, please,” I whisper, voice trembling.

His tongue flicks out, tasting me, and I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily. My nails dig into the silk corset laces while he holds my thighs apart, keeping me open for him as he licks and teases.

A moan escapes me, and my hands strain against the bindings. The tension adds an edge to the pleasure that heightens every sensation. Kane continues his torture, and his name falls from my lips in a breathless chant, a plea for more, for everything.

His eyes lock on mine, his expression dark and hungry as he parts my thighs farther, opening me further. “You taste so good, Fawn. So sweet. So wet.” The vibration of his voice sends a shiver through my body as he licks into me, his tongue delving deeper. “I’m going to drink you up. Every last drop.”

He continues his exquisite torment, sucking gently, drawing out my pleasure in long, lingering pulls.

“Kane,” I gasp, my voice breaking on his name.

He pulls back, his lips tilted in a wicked smirk that glistens with my arousal.

“Please,” I whimper, “don’t stop.”

His grin widens, eyes blazing as he slides his finger inside me before curling in a rhythm that leaves me gasping. “Promise to be my good girl, Fawn.”

“I promise,” I cry. “I promise to be your good girl.”

His free hand grips my hip, and he pulls me closer. “Then come for me, Fawn.” He brings his mouth back to my clit, humming against me, sending vibrations through my core. “Come on my tongue.”

The pressure builds, unstoppable. His command and his touch tie around me, forcing my surrender. My moans grow louder, more desperate and wilder, as I strain against the silk bindings. My body responds to his words, and my mind fills with the need to obey, to show him just how good I can be.

Kane’s tongue moves faster. Each increasingly insistent flick sends me higher. The pleasure builds, a tidal wave that crashes over me. I come undone. My body quakes with the force of my release.

I shudder and cry out as Kane’s mouth continues its worship, drinking down every pulse of my release. His tongue strokes me through the aftershocks until I’m a trembling, spent mess beneath him.

He moves up my body, his kisses trailing a burning path along my stomach. He pauses to lavish attention on my breasts, sucking and teasing until I’m arching into him, craving more. Then he captures my lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue explores mine, and I can taste myself on him. The sweetness sends another wave of heat pooling between my legs.

“You’ve been such a good girl. Would you like your reward?”

“That wasn’t it?”

“Not even close,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear.

I smile and buck into him, my body already begging for it.

“Take off your clothes.” I pant, my hands straining to break free from their binds and strip him. “Take them off.” My fingers ache to pull him closer, to feel him against me without any barriers.

Kane shifts onto one arm. Slowly, he undoes the laces of his breeches. The anticipation coils tighter within me, my body throbbing with need, as he frees his thick cock.

“It’s this or it’s nothing.”

“This,” I whisper against his lips. “I need you. I want you.”

“You have me,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine in a tantalizing tease.

He positions himself at my entrance. The tip of his cock teases me, making me gasp, and my body responds instinctively, my hips lifting to meet him.

“Do you want to be mine, Little Fawn?” He inches forward, pushing inside me just enough to make me moan, then pulls back.

I whimper, my wrists straining against the silk bonds. “Please, Kane…”

“Tell me what you want,” he rasps. His cock teases me again as he pulls on my bindings, and the silk digs into my wrists.

“I want to be yours,” I moan, trembling. “Only yours.”

His grip on my wrists tightens, possessive and unyielding, his body dominating mine. “Good girl.”

With one powerful thrust, he fills me completely. I cry out in pleasure, stretching around every inch of him, satisfyingly full.

He cuts off my cries with a fierce kiss. His tongue explores my mouth with a hunger that matches the intensity of his thrusts. It’s all-consuming, every inch of my body flaming, on fire, beneath him.

When he pulls back, his eyes lock onto mine. His breath is hot against my skin as he leans in, and his lips brush my cheek. “You look so good tied up. So beautiful. Mine for the taking.”

The praise sends a thrill through me. I arch my back, lifting my hips, begging for more. And he gives it to me, each powerful thrust driving deeper.

My pleasure builds into a tightening coil ready to snap. Every movement, every touch, drives me closer to the edge.

With a moan of his name, I tumble over, my body convulsing around him. My cries fill the room, mingling with his groans of satisfaction as he continues to drive into me, riding out my climax until I feel him tense. His grip on my cuffs tightens, and I’m even more full than before as his body shudders against mine.

For a moment, we stay like that, breaths mingling, bodies entwined. After seconds…minutes…hours…Kane reaches up. He unties the knot and gently untangles the silk laces from around my hands. Pulling me close, he kisses each wrist, soothing the marks left by the restraints.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, tracing the indentations.

I shake my head, a lazy smile spreading across my lips as I rest my head against his chest. “You could never hurt me.”

And the words feel so true, my heart aches. Even though I know they’re a lie. Because he can hurt me. Because he will if I don’t protect my heart. My pleasure is the only thing that can truly be his. But for the first time in a long time, I feel at home in my own skin. I’m afraid the barriers I purposefully constructed, the new mantras I know I should live by, are now in pieces around us.

“It’s good we were there when the fire broke out,” Kane says, his voice thick with exhaustion. “I don’t want to think what would have happened to the palace if I hadn’t been able to help stop it.”

I stiffen and take in a lungful of air, searching it for smoke. We were so busy creating heat of our own that I forgot all about the flames and the feast, the way Four’s eyes blazed blue, how he left me for dead.

“Why did they do it?” I ask, blinking back images of the men attacking the king, spitting fire, knowing it could end us all.

“It is…complicated.”

I lift my head and look up at him, into those eyes that have seen through me since the second I landed in Towerfall.

Kane’s hold on me tightens, his muscles rigid as if he’s fighting himself, before he says, “Power has shifted since Alderic’s father died. The former king was a strong and giving leader who distributed the kingdom’s wealth, kept his people fed, made the land fertile. Now…”

“His son wants it all for himself.”

“No.” Kane shakes his head. “Alderic is a great man, as good as his father—better even.”

“Then why set the fire? Why attempt to assassinate him? Why form a pitchfork-wielding mob outside the palace gates?”

Kane pushes himself up, his back resting against the wooden headboard. “Alderic is not himself, and I will see to him as soon as I can without drawing attention and make sure his injury is not deadly.”

“That’s nice of you. He shouldn’t die, no one should, but this wouldn’t be the first time someone seemingly great has ascended to power just to become a disgusting, greedy ass.” I try to keep my tone light, but life back in Chicago has taught me that, given the chance, many people will take power and money over kindness and decency any day.

“I grew up with Alderic. He is like a brother to me. This is not who he is. This is the curse. This is Four.”

“I think I saw Four’s magick. It was blue, bright blue, like Alderic’s eyes. Like the fire-breathers’.”

“He wishes to instill fear, keep the nobles frightened and compliant and Alderic weak and injured so he can strengthen his own rule.” Kane’s hand balls into a fist, his knuckles white with the force of his anger.

I grab his fist and hold it between my hands. I lower my face to his knuckles, and slowly, carefully, as if he might retreat back into himself and put up the smirking warrior mask, I feather a kiss against the back of his hand.

He lets out a sigh, his breath stirring my hair as his grip relaxes. Gold glimmers from the space between his fingers, and I turn over his hand. A thin gold line carves a path in his flesh where once there was glass and blood.

“The wine goblet,” I whisper, dragging my finger along the scar that mirrors mine.

He stiffens once more and yanks his hand away.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s not your fault.” He stares down at the gold line glinting up from his palm. “It’s my magick. There are parts of it I cannot control.”

“Is that how Four made sure you were banished? He told the king about your magick?”

No amount of strength and power could hide that gleaming gold. Not forever anyway.

“Yes, I had managed to keep it hidden. I knew that if Alderic found out, it would put him in an impossible position.” Kane’s gaze meets mine, and there’s a raw honesty in his eyes that takes my breath away. “Four used that to get me out of his way. Although not forever. Not like he planned.”

“But he has magick too.” I sit up, wrapping the soft sheet around myself, my questions tumbling out. “How does no one else know he’s using his magick for evil? Why hasn’t he been banished or beheaded? And why wouldn’t the kingdom want someone with your abilities on their side?”

“Magick is passed down through the mother’s line. But not all women have magick. The Tower is fickle, selective. It gave its power not to the rulers, but to the people of Towerfall.”

“The ruling families didn’t have magick—have never had magick,” I say, realization dawning. “So they saw it as a threat, not a gift.”

“And they did what those in power do when faced with something they fear, something they can’t control. They made it punishable by death. Simply being born of a woman with magick in her blood is a crime.” He sets his jaw, the angle sharp and hard. I know there’s a story there, about his people, his mother, but that story’s for a different day.

“There aren’t many of us left,” Kane continues, “but for those of us who do have magick, we hide it, suppress it. In Four’s case, he uses distraction and fear and the fact the nobility would rather keep their bellies and coffers full and their heads cradled by silk sheets than ever challenge him. But magick can’t simply be turned off. It’s a part of each one who wields it. It is a part of my flesh, my blood, my very soul.” He stares down at the scar before closing his fingers, smothering the line of gold.

I can’t help but feel like, if given the choice, he would gladly give his gift away.

“How magick is wielded is not as simple as an issue of good versus evil. It is controlled by the core of who you are, by your heart.”

“I thought your heart wasn’t available,” I say, my smile soft. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. All of them, Lord Ashwood.”

I settle my hand against his thigh, the thick muscles bunched under the soft leather breeches, the faint smell of smoke still clinging to them.

The corner of his mouth ticks with a grin as he smooths his fingers along my braid. “And yours with me, my lady wife.”

“I do have one more question.”

Wrapping my braid around his hand, he tugs slightly and murmurs a low growl of acknowledgment that makes my nipples tighten beneath the sheet. “Yes, Little Fawn.”

“How do you plan to get rid of Four without bringing the kingdom down with him?” I ask, following his direction as he pulls me up his body, leading me by my braid.

“You don’t think I can rally supporters?” he whispers, his lips a breath away from mine.

“Should I be jealous?” My body hums, warm, wet, and aching for him. I close my eyes and lean forward, desperate for his touch, his kiss. “I’ve experienced the way you rally support.”

Kane retreats, and I fall face-first into a mound of pillows, a muffled squeak flying from my lips when I crash into the goose down.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” He stands, dragging his hands through his hair, tension etched into the hard line of his shoulders.

The weight on the bed shifts as I push myself up and secure the blanket around my shoulders, as if anything short of disappearing completely could hide my confusion and embarrassment.

“You’re very forward, sexually, and I don’t know.” I shrug. “We’re not in a relationship or anything. That’s off the table, you made that clear from the very beginning, but if you wanted to get another woman’s…support, it would be easy for you to do so.” I clear my throat. “I was just trying to be bantery, but it clearly failed.”

“I’m not with another woman,” he blurts. “That’s not what I want. That’s not why I came back to the palace.”

“I didn’t say it was.” I shake my head and tuck escaped strands of hair behind my ears. “I think my attempt to be cute got lost in translation. You’re not here to get a wife. You have to—to—”

“Unseat Four before it’s too late.”

“Yes, right, and I still have to find my purse and the Empress card. Knowing Stephanie, she took it,” I grumble.

Kane’s brow furrows. “Stephanie?”

“Here, Stephanie is Ivy, Four’s hell spawn girlfriend.” I wince. “I don’t know that she’s actually a terrible person. I’ll admit that I might be a tad biased. In my realm, Stephanie is perfect. She’s Successful Barbie: well prepared, well-spoken, and well-dressed. I’m sure she’s never been cheated on or accused of being desperate, and every bra and panty set she owns matches.” I take a deep breath and exhale. “She’s basically everything I’m not.”

“You’re not wrong about Ivy, although she does have her uses.”

“She’s terrible here too?”

He hesitates for long enough to make my heart stumble, the phrase she does have her uses playing over and over again in my mind. Would Kane say I have my uses too?

It doesn’t matter, Hannah. This is all for fun. Nothing more. He doesn’t owe you an explanation.

“I don’t truly know her. Although, how well can you truly know anyone?” He combs his fingers through his hair again, smoothing his palm down the nape of his neck. “But if she’s with Four, she must be.”

I study his face, searching for any hint of deception. This might be all about pleasure, and he might not owe me a rundown of his past exploits, but it won’t be okay if he lies to me.

Kane stares back at me, calm, cool, and collected—a combination I seem to fall for every time. Doubt curls around my stomach, and I’m back in the cottage, back with the man who told me not to trust anyone, back with every liar I’ve ever been with and every red flag I’ve ever ignored.

His gaze shifts to a playful glint, and a cheeky grin spreads across his face. “You know, there’s a different kind of magick I could teach you.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his sly grin and more than happy to set my doubts aside for Future Hannah to deal with. “But I don’t have any magick.”

“I have enough for the both of us,” he says, his tone light and heavy all at once. “And this, Little Fawn, is a spell you won’t cast alone.”

I swallow as he approaches, his palms hot and hard as he pushes me back onto the bed.

“It’s very powerful magick.” He grabs the discarded scarlet laces, and I bite my lower lip. “All about channeling energy and pleasure to manifest desires and intentions, weave spells, break curses.”

He pulls the sheet down my chest, exposing my breasts.

“You’re talking about sex magick.” My breath hitches as he drags the tips of the laces across my bare chest.

“I am,” he says, smiling down at me with that wicked grin I can’t seem to get enough of. “And I think we could be very good at it.”

“Oh, really?” I try to play coy even while a fresh rush of desire drips between my legs.

“Really,” he murmurs. “In fact, I think we should give it a try. What do you say?” His expression is pure mischief as he pulls the sheet lower, his hands already starting to work their magick on my body.

“Yes,” I whisper, my body humming as he loops the laces around my thigh.

“Now be a good girl, Little Fawn, and tell me what you wish for.”