It refuses to go, the breath scraping in my lungs.
What in the gods was that? I figured he’d have a touch that was infused with a power no one could resist, but I never expected the sweetness.
I never expected the way his heartbeat fluttered in my veins, twisting with mine to form something truly glorious.
I never expected Rowan to be Rowan.
With a shuddery inhale of air, I slow my horse to a stop and dismount, letting it eat some grass as I slowly pace on the hill above my village.
I’m a member of the Ashen Flame. Not some girl with dreams of a prince. The fact Rowan’s touch is still on me, like a lingering perfume, unbalances me.
I thought if there was distance then… Then perhaps I’d be back to myself.
But I’m not. I feel like the earth shifted, leaving me on an untried landscape. Even as I try, I can’t seem to find my footing, and there’s something in me like I’m somehow responding to a call from… From him. It’s innate, a reflex, subconscious, and somehow that makes it all so much worse.
I’d rather he be the monster I believed he was.
Believed?
Believe.
My fingers brush the feather’s softness on my belt. It’s warm, strong, almost pulsating when I stroke it. It should scare me, but it doesn’t.
I’m not, however, returning. Not yet. Not until I can complete my mission. The one that’ll take me down. But first, I must face the Order of the Ashen Flame.
Can I even return like this?
With a sharp breath, I look down at my chest but the golden glow is gone, the skin pale and seemingly normal, and even as I rub at the spot, the pain’s nothing but a memory.
I slide the quiver of arrows off and check over my bow. I take my time. It’s not something I need to do, but I need time to think before I face the Order, who’ll know I’ve failed by coming back early.
Of course, they might not resend me. Even keeping the kiss and the fated part to myself, they might not send me back. If I tell them I can end him by killing myself, I’m sure they won’t hesitate to run a blade through my heart.
It’s best if I keep that all to myself.
But the worst part isn’t the failure. It’s that this looks like I turned and ran like a coward, or worse, didn’t even try.
And maybe I didn’t.
But I’m not one to back down from things, and I’m not about to start now.
I’m about to make my way down the hill when I still.
I’m not alone.
“There you are. Finished playing silly games?” The voice fills me with revulsion. It’s not the deep, seductive tone of Rowan. It’s someone I know and hate, so I gather my strength and turn.
“Saving people is silly, Titus?” I ask.
The big, ugly brute laughs. Snorts. His flat nose and reddish cheeks reminding more of a swine than a man. “But you haven’t. I knew it was foolish for my father to send you. I think he was just hoping you’d die.”
There’s malice in his eyes and purpose—and we’re alone. Titus knows this; the knowledge rolls off him in thick waves. A brutish confidence that makes my fingers flex.
His grin is all toothy. “I guess I’ll have to finish the job myself. But first, I want to taste you. A holy girl was the perfect choice. Strong for one so small, able to take a man of my size, my…needs…and I think I’ll have you.” He comes at me.
Horror hits. I hold out my hands. “Stop.”
He doesn’t. Instead, Titus laughs. “My own personal whore.”