Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(5)
“I have already killed many who thought they could rule the hell that I am.”
Her lips pulled into a tight line, her nostrils flaring as she attempted to control her breathing, to control her anger. The rage of her magic was strong as it flew through the air, obviously moments away from attacking. I wished she would.
The imagery of her blood flowing over my hands to join her father’s was as delicious as it was frightening.
I couldn’t kill her yet, though. This emotional warfare would have to suffice for now.
“Will you be the devil, or will you help me harness hell?” My chest swelled, my heart pounding delicately from the excitement of the game I had entangled her in. The trap was so perfectly placed that, no matter which step she took, she would be trapped.
She knew it, too, judging by the hatred that started to creep into the beautiful blue of her eyes.
It made me want to kiss her more.
To kill her as I did.
Love, lust, and death traveled hand in hand.
“Do you serve me?”
“I do serve you, Sain,” she whispered, her voice strong, yet I could hear the work it took to disguise the shake behind it.
“Don’t forget that, my beautiful creature.” I wrapped my hand around her waist, pulling her to me, my hand strong as I let my magic press against her skin.
The anger in her eyes dissipated with the contact.
My own desire for her death faded right alongside.
She melted into me, lust taking control and firmly securing my control over her. This game of cat and mouse had begun.
Or rather, a game of heaven and hell.
It would be a matter of time before she showed me the devil she truly was.
It was then I would destroy her.
JOCLYN
2
“Twins?” I couldn’t get the sound of disbelief out of my voice. The loud scoff was clear, echoing in the alley where we had all congregated. The damp walls and shadows attempted to swallow it whole, but the disbelief was that loud.
“Twins? Really? Congrats! I’m planning your baby shower, Jos,” Wyn said, jumping up and down like a spastic teen. “I’ve always wanted a niece … or two. I could show them the world and entertain them for hours with the hole in my hand.” She pulled the glove off, wiggling her finger through the open space the Soul’s Blade had left behind after her impalement, a mad grin on her face. “They’ll love it,” she said as she looked at me through the large, circular hole.
“Shut up, Wyn,” I snapped, attempting to throw her arm off me, beating away the bright red blush I was cursed with simultaneously. “And put your glove back on while you’re at it,” I added, knowing she loved to show that off every chance she got. I wished it didn’t make my stomach turn. Leave it to her to find pure joy in random mutilation.
Ilyan’s lips twitched into what I knew was a hidden smile. Meanwhile, Wyn dissolved into a fit of giggles, leaning over a large fern that was nestled up against the tall stone wall of the alley Ilyan had pulled us all into. I could hear Risha reprimand her, but I tuned them out. I was already the shade of a tomato. I didn’t need to make that any worse.
“What do you mean the kids are twins?” I asked again, the scoff now resorting to a squeak of embarrassment. At least Ilyan did better to disguise his smile this time.
“I mean that Jaromir is claiming Míra is his twin, and she is saying the same thing,” Ilyan said.
Wyn’s giggles finally subsided, and Risha looked up from the distraction, thoroughly annoyed. Ryland, on the other hand, looked as red as I did and possibly like he had forgotten how to breathe.
I stepped closer to Ilyan. “And we know they are telling the truth because …” I prompted.
“Seeing as they both have identical stories about upbringing and are currently reminiscing about a St. Bernard named Bruno, I would think the consensus is that they are not lying. Have you ever heard him speak of a sister, Ryland?” Ilyan asked his brother, hoping for backup.
“No.” Ry’s curls bounced with a shake of his head. “Then again, he wouldn’t talk about his family. He always closed up like a clam when family was mentioned.”
“So we have no way of knowing other than what we are witnessing right now,” Ilyan spoke clinically, like he was a doctor delivering unfortunate news about a growth on the bottom of my foot.
I do not sound like a doctor, and you do not have a growth on your foot. Ilyan’s voice filled my mind without a trace of amusement. He looked at me with a lifted brow, his bright blue eyes a bit wider than normal.
His reaction was out of place enough that I knew something was up, something more than what he was telling me.
“All you need is a lab coat,” I prodded, waiting for the knot in his expression to calm from the joke. His scowl, however, increased.
What is going on, Ilyan? I asked, the warning lights in my mind going off as I pressed my magic into his, expecting the onslaught of thoughts and emotions, but I only came face to face with a buzzing, the fear and panic that had gripped him blending together into violent noise.
Nothing serious, he replied. The anxiety in his voice didn’t exactly spell relief.
I tensed further, fixing him with a sidelong glance as Wyn pulled at my attention.
“The peanut gallery is going to have a field day with this, Jos,” Wyn began as she threw her arm around me, careful not to make any skin-to-skin contact, the unspoken rule since we had somehow imploded part of the cathedral.