“Bastard!” She looks around, then calls the boy’s name into the rain-filled night. “Drake!”
“Calm yourself, Poison. The traitor walked into the forest an hour ago. Something about finding food and water. He’s still alive. I can feel his broody energy from here.”
Her eyes grow to almost twice their size. “He’s out there alone?”
I close the distance between us, my lashes flickering when I notice her breath hitch. “Think about this way,” I say, gliding a finger down her cheek, my stomach fluttering when she doesn’t stop me. “If he dies, then you won’t have to feel guilty about killing him so your sister can win. It will be out of your hands.”
She hesitates, only for a second, then bats my hand away. Her finger jabs into my chest and she hisses through clenched teeth, “Just because you have never loved, it doesn’t mean love does not exist. If he dies, I will blame you.”
“Why?”
“You put him in here!”
“He is a traitor. You both are. What did you expect me to do? Let him off with a slap on the wrist.”
She lifts her chin, her elbow brushing against the V of my lower abdomen. “It was my idea.”
“I don’t think so,” I say and tuck a finger under her chin. “Even so, I cannot kill you, but I can punish him. Just admit it, Poison, it will be a relief if he’s dead. You know they can’t both survive.”
She holds me in her gaze, her breaths uneven as she balls a fist. “What way did Drake go?”
I tsk. “If you go to find him, you leave your sister here, alone, and at the mercy of the other sacrifices.” I lower my voice to a whisper, then glance around at the trees, bushes, and long vines of thorns. “They’re everywhere, just waiting for their opportunity.”
“I assume you’re not going to help,” she states, correctly, her lip twitching.
“I’d rather watch it all unfold. It’s far more interesting.”
She huffs out a breath, her cheeks reddening. “So, you’ll watch us suffer, just because you’re starved for entertainment.” Her icy stare doesn’t leave mine. “Although that’s not all you’re starved for.”
She angles her body closer, unaware of my shadows caressing around her figure, heightening against her pulsing magic.
My fingers wrap around the back of her neck as she gulps in a deep breath, and I wrench her closer, leaning down until her lips are just inches from mine. “If you think you can use how I can touch you against me again. You are wrong. I’m past that.”
The lie falls so easily from my tongue, and I watch as she bites her lip, the smell of her confusing my senses.
“Liar,” she whispers.
I drink her in, my lips parting as my cock hardens in my pants. Shadows dance up the sides of her hips, holding her in place.
With every glide of her fingers over my chest, my shadows purr under her touch. Her lips are so achingly close.
“I hate you,” she breathes, her voice wavering.
A low roar rumbles in my chest as the curve of her chin dips against mine.
I growl back, “I despise you too, Poison.”
Her fingernails cut through the fabric of my tunic, scraping against my bare chest. A deep groan emanates from my lips, and my eyelids half-closed.
Cyna’s magic seeps into me, tightening around my brain like a band as Calista’s eyes darken into inky pools. Her grip on me tightens, her body squirming against mine, and it takes every ounce of will for me not to taste her, just once.
She’s so fucking close.
My stomach is a hollow space filled with fluttering as tendrils of green magic reach into me, searching through my memories. Glints of gray from the Ash War, the darkness of death, and the muted colors of the Darklands carousel in my mind.
With every flicker of memory, they slip away. Then, a vision sparks—merely a glimpse.
An image of my temple on Tenenocti Island from one hundred and fifty years ago.
I hold on to the memory, the aura of the vision framed in crimson. This must have been the last time my siblings and I were in the same room together. I watch as Cyna restrains me along with Volan, and Essentria walks to an altar holding two women, one of whom is dead. Essentria’s hands carve into the living woman, tearing apart her ribcage.
Cyna’s laugh tinkers into my mind, and Astraea wraps her arms around me.
My fingers twitch to push Calista away, but an unexpected connection holds me to her, something so primal and dark, yet comforting.
No.
I fist her hair, then pull her backward, slipping out her hold. “How dare you use my brother’s magic on me!”
“I had to know if you were telling the truth.”
I pause briefly, then slowly lick my dry lips, recalling the details of the memory. How did she access my mind like that? I’ve spent decades trying to recall my memories. Yet, when I touch her, I can feel them drifting back to me, the clues of my muddied past and why everything ended the way it did.
“I felt your pain,” she whispers.
“Don’t,” I warn, then glide my fingers down to the back of her neck, running the tips over goosebumps pricked over her skin.
“Who were the two dead women?”
