Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Shadows pool in the corners like they’re waiting for commands, slick and eager, their silence louder than sound, vibrating with excitement as one of their kings enters the space.
As I enter the space.
And in the middle of it all, framed by that suffocating wealth, stands a chair carved from obsidian. Its back rises high, etched in runes that catch the lantern glow and flare like veins of flame. The cushions are blood-red, stuffed so thick they mean to swallow whoever dares sit on them.
That’s where I find her.
“Haide.” Her name scratches up my throat, and I grip the doorframe to keep from falling to my knees and crawling to my queen.
She sits like she was created for that very spot, draped in leather that clings to every line of her body, black as midnight and twice as dangerous. Tight cloth winds across her curves, and she has one leg hooked over the other.
Her hair spills down her back and over her shoulders, long and black, silk threaded with shadow, glinting where the lantern light dares touch it. It hides half her face until she flicks her head, and eyes like pools of ink stare at me as if they’d cut me open before they’d ever soften.
She doesn’t look out of place here. No, it’s like the throne was carved for her spine, like the smoke was meant to crown her, like every shadow in this cursed room has bent down in reverence without realizing it.
Because it, too, feels this.
It knows that the fates gifted her to them. That she will be the next Queen to join their Kings.
Blood pounds heavy in my ears, surging through my veins and straight to my cock, swelling painfully in my jeans.
The closer I get, the faster the smoke curls around her body, tracing the line of her throat and making me ache to do the same. Her eyes glint through the haze, hard and defiant, and yet my chest caves like a child’s at the sight.
My legs barely hold me, but I stumble forward, my hand reaching before I’ve even thought it. I touch her face. My thumb drags across her cheekbone, trembling, and her skin quivers beneath the contact.
The world tilts, narrows, until there’s only her. All I want is to close the inch between us, to take her mouth with mine, to taste what my dreams have promised me a thousand times. To give her all of me, every rune, every fire, every goddamn piece until there’s nothing left to take. My body aches with it, my chest splitting open with the need to claim her, to be claimed back.
But the moment I think it, the moment I envision sinking my teeth into that long, perfect fucking neck, my palm burns with betrayal. Because my body knows, my fucking soul knows, what I’m being blinded to see.
My brows snap together, and my grip on her tightens.
She whimpers, a pretty little sound, and tears spark in the corners of her eyes. The sight rips straight through me, but my fingers tighten anyway, cruel, desperate.
My own eyes sting and I clench my teeth. My eyes and my soul war with each other, but still I push through.
I lean closer, so close her breath shudders against my mouth, and then I do the unthinkable.
I snap her fucking neck.
The sound cracks through the smoke like thunder. Her body falls limp, sliding from the chair to the floor, her head lolling at an angle. No living thing could survive. She hits the ground with a heavy thud, hair fanning across the stone. Blond fucking hair and a face that isn’t hers.
A heavy sigh sounds behind me. “Told you it wouldn’t work.”
“It did enough. We just needed to stall him. Won’t be much longer now.”
Stall me? Longer for what?
I spin, rage bursting through my chest, my claws threatening to tear through my own skin. My brothers stand in the doorway, arms crossed and expressions irritated. “What is this? Where is Haide?!”
Before they can respond, the door creaks, and all of us turn. London slips inside, her dark eyes sweeping the wreckage of the room, landing steadily on her mate.
“What is it?” he asks.
“The mage.” She looks to Creed, unease pouring off her in waves. “She’s here.”
They stiffen and slowly, everyone in the room looks at me.
“Then it’s time.” Creed mumbles, a crease between his brows.
A chill runs down my spine and I tense.
“Time for fucking what?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Haide
I jolt awake like someone cut a string.
Darkness crowds the edges of my vision, thick enough that, for a second, I don’t know where I am.
And then the memories hit me all at once.
Darkadia. Cavern floors. Poison thick in my lungs. Legend choking on air he couldn’t swallow.
The black tar on the walls and the message left behind.
My breath drags in high and sharp. I sit up too fast, palms pressed to my sternum because panic tastes like blood tonight, like something reaching through my ribs.