“Wasn’t always like this,” Rorrick murmurs. “Starlight used to bathe us in the magic of the heavens.”
“H—how long has it been like this?”
“Ever since I remember,” Seven whispers ominously.
“What causes the flames?”
“Depends who you ask.” Christian’s thumb brushes back and forth against my knuckles, and I hate that I’m thinking about how he refused me just moments ago in an end-of-days moment like this. “My father blames the Thorn King’s dark magic. And the fae... they blame us.”
I’m mesmerized by the flow of the smoke and flames that move overhead like a storm angering the sea. I feel every dip and roll of the heat.
But suddenly, I feel something else prickling across my skin.
The most alluring man parts the dense crowd. It’s his wingspan that people step aside for; a look of awe and fear overtakes their faces as he passes by. Enormous black wings rise up from his shoulders; beautiful, sleek wings appearing dipped in stark ink and forbidden magic. His stare is so focused on me, it becomes unnerving. A slash of black paint shimmers across piercing blue eyes, and there are strange points that pierce through his bronzed skin. The prickling points of what look like several small black diamonds frame his eyes. They veer down the column of his throat on both sides and even kiss the backs of his big hands—hands that also appear dipped in ink.
Thorns pierce from his skin like a disease...
I swallow hard as he comes nearer. Christian’s frame is tense. Protective. He takes a single step in front of me. His hand extending forward long before the mysterious, handsome man ever gets here.
The stranger doesn’t take the prince’s offer of introduction though. Daunting pale eyes study the prince’s hand but blatantly disregard the offering. Instead, he lowers down. He kneels to one knee with his head bowed so intently, I think he’ll kiss Christian’s shining black shoes.
But it isn’t Christian he’s bowing to.
Two big hands grasp mine, his heat burning across my flesh as he presses his temple to my knuckles. Sharp, glinting thorns prickle over the back of my hand.
“My kindred,” he whispers like a prayer, his words inciting a frenzy of nerves to fire all through my body. “I’ve waited for you longer than you know.”
My wide eyes meet Christian’s, our stares colliding over the man worshiping down at my feet.
“Thorn, how generous of you to give my father such a—” Christian’s pause lingers in the air as his attention heats across the flesh of my breasts, my lips and eyes, “Delectable gift.”
Tingling fury ignites inside my unsteady heart. How dare he look at me like that? He has no right. He will never have me. Therefore, he should not be allowed to make me question what he truly wants.
What I truly want.
I wanted to escape. I—I still do. He’s just confusing me.
The Thorn King stands slowly with his height towering over me and making me feel small between himself and Rorrick just behind me. In my heels, I barely come up to his hard pectorals. His skin is warm, the opposite of my pale features. The long length of his dark hair is a stark contrast to my fiery red. His features are sharp like Christian’s. Royal in that way. Half of his hair is pulled up away from the sharp angles of his face, and white bones decorate through the thick, messy braid that lines the top of his head.
He’s alarmingly handsome... but I don’t see a resemblance between myself and the Thorn King. He isn’t the ugly, cruel man Delilah painted him to be either. It’s a strange beauty he holds. He also shares that with Christian: a deadly attractiveness that you know will get you in trouble... and yet, you dive right in anyway for just a chance to be near them.
Another man with dense, dark leathery wings looks from me to Christian before he quietly says something over the king’s shoulder. A sharp sneer presses to the Thorn King’s lips. A low chuckle vibrates through his big chest, the strange black diamonds accentuating his thick neck shift as he laughs.Thorns... they don’t look like thorns though. They’re too pretty, glinting in the fiery light of the evening.
“Yes.” His arrogantly sly attention finally slides to the Blood Prince. “She’s not his yet.”
“It’s Prince Christian,” Christian introduces himself casually.
The Thorn King seems to have long forgotten the prince is even there when he brings his piercing gaze back to me.
“Care to take a walk with... dear old Dad?” The smirk on his handsome face is alarming with his heavy attention suddenly on me. With the inky line across his eyes, the jagged gems protruding from his skull, and the sharp points of his teeth, he looks every bit the monster Delilah warned me about.
“Actually, the hunt is about to commence,” Christian says, his hand pressing low on the small of my back, his body lining up perfectly with mine.
The Thorn King’s gaze dips to that small contact between me and the prince, and I see the calculations in his eyes.
“Yes. Well, we won’t be long.” And then my hand is in his, and he’s pulling me away.
Christian’s body lurches, but he’s stopped abruptly.