A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

He chuckled darkly, sidestepping my kick. “No, thank you.”

The smothered sound I made against his palm was one born of pure, unfettered rage.

That midnight laugh came again, quieter, but I felt it along every inch of my back and hips. “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

Feisty? Little? Thing?

I was neither little nor a thing, but I was feeling all kinds of feisty.

“Also, a bit ungrateful,” he added, his cool breath against my cheek. My cheek. Air stilled in my throat. My hood had slipped back in my struggle, not nearly covering as much of my face as it normally would. “They would’ve killed you before you had a chance to do whatever ill-advised idea sprang into your head. I saved your life, and you’re trying to kick me?”

My hands balled into fists as I twisted my head again. He suddenly stiffened against me, his body crackling with tension.

“Is that all, Madis?” a voice reached us from outside the tunnel, distant and feminine.

“Yes, Cressa,” came the answer, spoken in a deep voice laden with power.

It was the god and goddess. I stilled completely against my captor.

“For now.” Annoyance dripped from those two words spoken by this Cressa.

“We must be close,” Madis answered.

There was a beat of silence, and then Cressa said, “Taric, you know what to do with them.”

“Of course,” a second male answered.

“Since we’re here, we might as well enjoy ourselves,” Madis remarked. Enjoy themselves? After he’d just slaughtered a babe?

“Whatever,” the goddess muttered, and then there was quiet.

Three of them. Taric. Madis. Cressa. I repeated those names over and over as silence fell around us. I wasn’t familiar with them and I had no idea what Court they belonged to, but I would not forget their names.

The male that held me shifted his stance, and then his breath touched my cheek once more. “If I remove my hand, you promise you won’t do something silly like scream?”

I nodded against his chest. Screaming was never on my priority list.

He hesitated. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” he said with a sigh that caused me to grit my teeth. “But I guess I’ll add this to the ever-growing list of things I end up regretting.”

His hand lifted from my mouth, but it didn’t stray far, sliding down so that his fingers curled around my chin. I dragged in deep breaths as I tried to ignore the sensation of his chilled flesh against mine. I waited for him to release me.

He didn’t.

“You were going to go after those gods,” he stated after a moment. “What were you thinking?”

That was a good question since mortals were forbidden from interfering in the actions of gods. To do so was considered an insult against the Primal they served. But I had an answer. “They slaughtered a babe.”

He was quiet for a moment. “That is none of your concern.”

I tensed at his words. “The slaughter of an innocent child should be of everyone’s concern.”

“You’d think,” he replied, and I frowned. “But it is not. You knew what they were when you saw them. You know what you should’ve done.”

I did, and I didn’t care. “Do you also believe we’re supposed to leave the bodies there?”

“I doubt they left them,” he answered.

Whenever gods killed a mortal, they left the bodies behind, usually to serve as a warning. If they didn’t, where did they take them? And why? Why had they done this? Could anyone else have been in that home?

I straightened my head. His hand followed. “Are you going to let me go?” I demanded in a quiet voice.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m not sure I’m ready for whatever it is that you’re about to do.”

I stared at the mass of dark vines above me. “Let me go.”

“So you can run back out there and get yourself killed?” he countered.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“You’re right.” A pause. “And you’re also wrong. But since saving your life is still interfering with my evening plans, I want to make sure my generous and benevolent actions are worth what I lost by coming to your aid.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I did not ask for your help.”

“But you have it nonetheless.”

“Let me go, and you can get back to your oh-so-important evening plans that apparently do not involve having the common decency to care about senseless murders,” I retorted.

“There are a couple of things you need to understand,” he drawled, his thumb sliding along my jaw, causing me to stiffen at the unexpected and unfamiliar caress. “You have no idea what my evening plans were, but yes, they were very important. Nor do you know what I do and do not care about.”

My face scrunched. “Thanks for sharing?”

“But you are right about one thing,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “There isn’t a decent bone in the entirety of my body. So, no, I do not have this thing you call common decency.”