From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash Series Book 1)

Hands trembling, I let go of the dagger and fell out of his lap. I scuttled backward, unable to look away from the glaze of shock settling over his features.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and I wasn’t sure why I even apologized. I wasn’t sure why my cheeks felt damp. Was it blood? His blood?

He lifted his gaze to mine. “You’re crying.” A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

I was crying. I hadn’t cried since I’d watched Vikter die, but tears now streamed down my face as I rose on numb legs. I stepped to the side. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going, but I made it to the door. It was unlocked.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, shaking.

A choked, wet laugh rattled from him as he bent forward, slamming his hand down on the floor. “No,” he gasped. “No, you’re not.”

But I was.

I turned around, blindly staggering out the door into the empty pathway that connected to another door at the end. Cold, wet air drifted in through the open wall, but I barely felt it. I had no plan. No idea how to get out of the keep. I kept walking.

Halfway through the hall, it was like a switch was flicked inside of me. All the horror and the sorrow ceased, and instinct took over. Breathing heavily, I threw open the door and raced down the cramped stairwell, then out through an open doorway, into—

Into the snow.

For a moment, I was struck by the beauty of the thick flakes of snow slowly drifting down. A thin layer already blanketed the ground and coated the bare trees. It was so silent, and everything was clean and untouched.

A voice from inside the keep jarred me into action. Taking off across the snow-covered grass, I ran toward the woods. In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t prepared to make an escape. The clothing I was wearing was too thin, even if it wasn’t also torn nearly to shreds. I had no idea exactly where I was or where to go from here. There could be Craven in these woods. There would definitely be Descenters. There could also be wolven, who would surely be able to track my moves, but still, I ran, the thin soles of my boots slipping on the dusted ground of the forest floor. I ran because…

I stabbed him.

I stabbed him in the heart.

He would be dead by now.

I’d killed him.

A ragged sob left me as blowing snow mingled with my tears. Oh, gods, I had to do it. Everything about him, about us was a lie. Everything. I had to do it. I had to—

There was no warning—no sound, nothing.

An arm circled my waist, catching me mid-run. I shrieked as my feet slipped out from under me, but I didn’t go down. I was hauled back and slammed into a hard, warm chest. My feet dangled nearly a foot from the ground.

Shock stole the very breath from my lungs. I knew who it was before he even spoke. It was his scent of lush spice and pine. It was the burst of rage-laced anguish and disbelief that mirrored mine, coming through my senses that I hadn’t closed down. For the first time since I’d met him, his emotions overwhelmed him and, therefore, me.

This was not the Hawke I’d fallen for so quickly that held me against him.

It was not the guard who’d sworn on his life to keep me safe, who now wrapped his fist in my hair and jerked my head back and to the side.

It was not Hawke’s hot breath that caressed my exposed throat.

It was him.

Prince Casteel Da’Neer of Atlantia.

The Dark One.

“An Atlantian, unlike a wolven or an Ascended, can’t be killed by a stab to the heart,” he growled, yanking my head farther back. “If you wanted to kill me, you should’ve aimed for the head, Princess. But worse yet, you forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“That it was real.”

Then he struck.

Two twin bursts of fiery pain lanced my neck, causing my entire body to jerk. The burn traveled all the way through my body, stunning me in its intensity. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream around the pain.

His arm around my waist was like an iron vise as he drew long and hard from the wound his fangs had created. I shook, eyes peeled wide as my hands fell to his arm. My nails dug in. The burn, the deep, staggering pull against my throat as my blood flowed freely from me into him shorted out my entire system. The building scream clawed its way around the pain—

And then, within mere seconds of when he’d sunk his fangs into me, everything changed.

The intense hurting became something else, something overwhelming in a wholly different way. A new ache erupted inside me, heating my blood until it felt like every part of me was filling with molten lava.

My wide eyes were unseeing as the heat filled my chest, my stomach, and pooled in the space between my thighs. His mouth tugged on my throat once more, and this time, that pull went straight to my very core. My body jerked with a flood of pounding arousal.

He groaned, his arm tightening around me, and I felt him, hard and thick against my rear. I gripped his arm as tension coiled inside me—

Without warning, he ripped his mouth from my neck. He let go, and I stumbled forward, nearly falling. Trembling with confusion and the desire still sparking inside of me, I turned to him.

He stood several feet from me, his chest rising and falling with rapid, short breaths. His eyes were wide. Red smeared his lips.

I lifted my hand, pressing it to my neck. Wet warmth greeted my fingertips. I took a step back.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, and he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. His eyes closed briefly as he shuddered, letting out a rumble that reminded me of the wolven. His lashes swept up, and his pupils were so dilated only a thin strip of amber was visible. “But I should’ve known.”

Before I could figure out what he meant or what would happen next, he was on me, moving so fast I couldn’t track him.

His mouth crashed into mine as one hand shoved into my hair, his other arm clamped to my waist. I wasn’t just kissed.

I was devoured. I tasted my blood on his lips, on his tongue. I tasted him.

I wasn’t sure exactly when I kissed him back. Was it after a few seconds, or had I been kissing him from the moment his mouth touched mine? I didn’t know. All I did know was that I was starved for him, right or wrong, I wanted him.

That’s why I didn’t fight him when he brought me to the ground. The contrast of the cold snow against my back and the heat of his body pressed to my front drew a gasp from me. I didn’t think he heard it as it was caught up in his hungry kisses, and I realized then that he’d been holding back when he kissed me all the times before. Now, he wasn’t hiding who he was.

He rocked against me as he slid his hand over my waist to my hip. We moved, straining and gasping. His teeth caught my bottom lip. A brief sting registered, and he shuddered, groaning as the metallic taste renewed.

Breaking the kiss, he lifted up enough to look down at me. “Tell me you want this.” His hips were still churning against mine. “Tell me you need more.”

“More,” I whispered before I could even think about what we were doing, what we’d done—who he was.

“Thank fuck,” he grunted, and then he reached between us, his finger snagging the front of my breeches. He pulled on them hard enough to lift my hips. Buttons popped free, flinging into the nearby snow.

“Goodness,” I murmured.

He barked out a short, harsh laugh as he shoved my pants down until one leg was completely free, and the breeches snagged on the other ankle. “You know this shirt was beyond repair, right?”

“Wha—?”

The sound of cloth tearing was my only explanation. I dipped my chin, seeing my breasts. He was staring too, his hand tearing at his own breeches as his eyes tracked the streaks of blood dried along my stomach, moving over the hardening tips of my breasts.

“I will kill them,” he whispered. “I will fucking kill them all.”

I didn’t think he was talking about the old scars.

Then I wasn’t thinking at all.

He kissed me as he settled over me, between my legs, and then things…spun. There was no slow seduction this time, no long and drawn-out caresses and kisses. There was a pinch of discomfort, but it quickly gave way to the aching, pulsing pleasure, and there was no room in my body or mind or between us for there to be anything other than what we felt. It was just him and me, the taste of my blood and his on our lips, and this need I didn’t quite understand.

Around us, the snow fell heavier through the trees, soaking his back and my hair as we clutched and grasped at one another. There were only the sounds of our wet kisses, our bodies coming together and parting, and our moans.

One long, dragging kiss ensued, and then his mouth moved from mine to my chin and then lower, his lips and those sharp teeth gliding over my throat. His actions elicited a shiver that curled its way down my spine as he stilled above me. Was he…was he going to bite me again? Instead of fear, there was a rush of wicked heat. The pain from his fangs had been brief, and what had come afterward…

I squeezed his shoulders, too lost to even wonder if I shouldn’t want him to, too far gone to think about the consequences if he did.

I felt his tongue against my skin, circling and laving over the sensitive mark he’d left behind. Then he lifted his head. I saw his eyes long enough to see that his pupils had constricted before his lashes swept down, and his mouth was on mine once more.

And then he was moving again.

His hips retreating and then pushing back in, rolling and grinding as his fingers played with my breast. He moved slowly now, so lazily that I felt as if I were being strung out. I shuddered under him, slipping my hand into his snow-damp hair.

The tension was building again, coiling until I couldn’t take his slow, measured movements any longer. His teasing grinds and rolls. I lifted my hips, trying to urge him to move faster, go deeper, but he held back until I cried out and pulled at his hair.

He half-laughed, half-growled as he lifted his head. “I know what you want, but…”

Heart racing out of control, I squirmed under his weight. “But what?”

“I want you to say my name.”

“What?”

His hips continued moving in maddeningly slow circles. “I want you to say my real name.”

My lips parted on a sharp inhale.

He stilled once more, his eyes luminous. “That’s all I ask.”

All he asked? It was a lot.

“It’s acknowledgement,” he said, his thumb swirling and tugging. “It’s you admitting you are fully aware of who is inside you, who you want so badly, even though you know you shouldn’t. Even though you want nothing more than to not feel what you do. I want to hear you say my real name.”

“You’re a bastard,” I whispered.

One side of his lips curled. “Some call me that, yes, but that’s not the name I’m waiting to hear, Princess.”

I wanted to deny him. Gods, did I ever.

“How bad do you want it, Poppy?” he asked.

My grip tightened on his hair as I yanked his head down. There was a flash of surprise in those glowing eyes. “Bad,” I snarled. “Your Highness.”

His mouth opened, but I lifted my legs, curling them around his hips. Taking advantage of his surprise and tapping into my own anger, I rolled him onto his back, fully intending to leave him there, but I hadn’t foreseen what the move would do when I rocked back—

I sank down on his length, my body shockingly flush with his. My shout ended in his groan as I planted my hands on his chest. Gods. The fullness was almost too much.

“Oh,” I whispered, taking ragged breaths.

His chest was moving just as unevenly under my hands. “You know what?”

“What?” My toes curled inside my boots.

“I don’t need you to say my name,” he said, his eyes half closed. “I just need you to do that again, but if you don’t start moving, you might actually kill me.

A startled giggle burst from me. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

Something about his features softened even though stark need shone through the thin slits of his eyes. “Just move.” His hands went to my hips. He lifted me up a few inches and brought me back down. A deep sound radiated from him. “Like that. You can’t do anything wrong. How have you not learned that yet?”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I mirrored his movement, moving up and down as snow fell across his shirt. My palm slipped, angling me forward. A spot deep in me was touched, sending out bolts of intense pleasure in waves. “Like that?” I breathed.

His hands tightened on my hips. “Just like that.”

With each move of my hips, that spot was touched, and more streaks of bliss shot through me. Before I knew it, I was moving faster above him, and I knew he was watching me as my eyes drifted closed, and my head fell back. I knew his gaze was fastened on my breasts and where we were joined, and that knowledge was too much.

The tension whipped out, shattering me. I cried out as I shuddered, body spasming as intense shards of ecstasy sliced through me.

He moved then, rolling me back under him and thrusting his hips against mine. His mouth claimed mine as his body did the same, pounding against me, into me until the pleasure seemed to crest once more, the fierceness shocking as he seemed to lose all sense of control. His large body moved over mine, in me until he pressed hard against me, his shout swallowed in our kisses as he shuddered.

I didn’t know how long we lay there in the falling snow, our hearts and breaths slow to steady, my grip still tight on his shoulders, his forehead pressed to mine. After some time, I became aware of his thumb moving along my waist in idle up and down sweeps.

The heat of passion cooled and, in its wake, was confusion. Not regret. Not shame. Just…confusion. “I don’t…I don’t understand,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Don’t understand what?” He shifted above me.

“Any of this. Like how did this even happen?” I winced as he started to ease out.

He halted, brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.” I closed my eyes as he remained still for several moments before moving to my side.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Look at me and tell me you’re not hurt.”

My eyes opened, and I looked at him. He was raised on one elbow, seemingly unaware of the snow falling around us. “I’m fine.”

“You winced. I saw you.”

I shook my head in disbelief. My gift was utterly useless since I was feeling too much to concentrate, so I couldn’t even…cheat. “That’s what I don’t understand. Unless I completely imagined the last couple of days.”

“No, you didn’t imagine anything.” His gaze roamed over my face as I blinked snow off my lashes. “Do you wish that this, right here, hadn’t happened?”

I could lie, but I didn’t. “No. Do…do you?”

“No, Poppy. I hate that you even have to ask that.” He looked away, jaw flexing. “When we first met, it was like…I don’t know. I was drawn to you. I could’ve taken you then, Poppy. I could’ve prevented a lot of what has happened, but I…I lost sight of a lot of things. Each time I was near you, I couldn’t help but feel as if I knew you. I think I know why it’s been like that.”

He said this like it was the answer to how we had gone from me stabbing him in the heart to tearing off each other’s clothes. I shivered in the cold, damp air as I shook my head again.

Being drawn to one another explained none of that.

“You’re cold.” Rolling to his feet in one smooth movement, he fastened his pants with the one lone button that remained and then extended his hand. “We need to get out of this weather.”

We did. Well, I did. He probably didn’t, considering he could be stabbed in the chest and be all right minutes later.

I placed my hand in his and stated what I felt he needed to be reminded of. “I tried to kill you.”

“I know.” He pulled me up onto my feet. “I can’t really blame you.”

I stared, dumbfounded as he swooped down, tugging up my breeches as he rose. “You don’t?”

“No. I lied to you. I betrayed you and played a role in the deaths of people you love,” he said, listing the reasons as if it were a shopping list. “I’m surprised that was the first time you tried.”

I continued to stare.

“And I doubt it will be the last time you try.” The corners of his lips turned down as he tried to secure the pants but discovered that the buttons were somewhere on the snowy ground. “Dammit,” he muttered, reaching for my shirt. It was torn straight down the middle. He gripped the sides and pulled them together as if that would repair the material. He cursed again, giving up. He reached up, pulling his other shirt off over his head. “Here.”

I stood there, wondering if I was suffering from blood loss or post-orgasmic bliss. Maybe a combination of both because I couldn’t believe this. “You’re…not mad?”

He lifted a brow as his gaze met mine. “Are you not still mad at me?”

I didn’t have to think about that. “Yes. I’m still angry.”

“And I’m still angry that you stabbed me in the chest.” He stepped toward me. “Lift your arms.”

I lifted my arms.

“You didn’t miss my heart, by the way. You got it pretty good,” he continued, pulling his shirt on over my head, tugging it down over my stiff arms. “That’s why it took a minute to catch up to you.”

“It took more than a minute.” My voice was muffled as my head got caught for a moment in his shirt before popping free.

One side of his lip kicked up as he tugged the other sleeve down. “It took a couple of minutes.”

I looked down at the shirt and saw the jagged tear on the front. It didn’t line up with my chest, but with my stomach. My gaze went to his bare chest. There was a wound, the skin pink and torn around it. Stomach churning, I gave a shake of my head. “Will it heal?”

“It will be fine in a few hours. Probably sooner.”

“Atlantian blood,” I whispered and swallowed thickly.

“My body will immediately start to repair itself from any non-fatal wounds,” he explained. “And I fed. That helped.”

I fed.

My hand fluttered to my throat, to the two tiny wounds that felt as if they’d already started to heal. A faint spike of pleasure pulsed through me. I jerked my hand away. “Will anything happen to me from…from you feeding?”

“No, Poppy. I didn’t take enough, and you didn’t take enough of mine earlier. You’ll probably be a little tired later, but that’s all.”

I went back to staring at his wound. “Does it hurt?”

“Barely,” he muttered.

I didn’t believe him. Placing my palm against his chest, a few inches from the wound, I tried to tap into my gift. I felt it stretching, so I opened up my senses. He became very still. The anguish I always felt was there, heightened and stronger than before, even though he’d gotten control of it at some point. It no longer overwhelmed him, but there was a different kind of pain underneath it. It was hot. Physical pain. The wound might heal, but it hurt, and it wasn’t minor.

I did what I could without thinking once more. I took his pain, both of them, and I didn’t think of the beaches of the Stroud Sea this time. I thought about how I felt when he was in me, moving inside me.

And all of that did nothing but confuse me even more.

He placed his hand over mine, and when I glanced up, I saw that the lines of white tension around his mouth had vanished. There was wonder in his eyes. “I should’ve known then.” He brought my hand stained with our blood to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

“Known what?” I asked, trying to ignore how the act tugged at my heart.

“Known why they wanted you so badly that they made you the Maiden.”

I wasn’t exactly following what he was saying, but that could’ve had more to do with my fog-filled brain than anything.

“Come.” He tugged on my hand and started walking.

“Where are we going?”

“Now? We’re going back inside so we can get cleaned up and…” He trailed off with a sigh as he noticed that I was clutching the side of my pants to keep them up. Before I even knew what he was about, he picked me up and held me in his arms, against his chest, like I weighed nothing more than a soaked kitten. “And, apparently, to find you some new pants.”

“These were my only pair.”

“I’ll get you new ones.” He strode forward. “I’m sure there is some small child around here who would be willing to part with their breeches for a few coins.”

My brows puckered.

His mouth was soft, and a faint grin played across his lips as he stepped around a fallen limb.

“And after that?” I asked.

“I’m taking you home.”

My heart about stopped for the hundredth time that day. “Home?” I hadn’t expected him to say that. “Back to Masadonia? Or to Carsodonia?”

“Neither.” He looked down, his eyes a wealth of secrets. He smiled then, a wide one that stole my breath. He did indeed have two dimples, one in each cheek, and I saw then why there’d only been half-grins before. I saw the two fine points of his canines. “I’m taking you to Atlantia.”