A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

Who I had just stabbed in the chest.

In the heart.

Oh, gods.

I lifted my gaze from where my hand and the dagger’s hilt were flush with a chest adorned in black, to eyes…

Wide eyes streaked with swirling wisps of eather.

Eyes of the silver-eyed god.

Chapter 6

My heart stuttered and then sped up. Air lodged in my throat as I watched him slowly lower his gaze to his chest—to the dagger I’d shoved deep into him. Shock turned my entire body numb. I didn’t even feel his hand still wrapped around my left wrist. I didn’t feel anything but disbelief and pounding, sheer terror.

Shadowstone could kill a god if they were stabbed in the heart, and my aim had only been off by a fraction of an inch—if that. In the back of my mind, I knew he’d survive this, but it had to hurt.

Quicksilver eyes lifted to mine once more. The wispy tendrils of eather whipped through his irises, and I knew he would kill me. There was no way he wouldn’t. Pressure clamped down on my chest as he let go of my wrist and slowly took a step back, freeing himself. Slick blood coated the blade, dark and shimmery in the lamplight—nothing like mortal blood. I stared at my dagger, bracing myself as I took several steps back.

“Yet again, you entered a home without taking a moment to see if you were truly alone,” the god said, and my gaze flew to his. The eather swirled even more wildly in his eyes. “That was incredibly reckless. Don’t ever do that again.”

My lips parted on a harsh exhale. “I…I just stabbed you in the chest, and that is what you have to say?”

“No. I was getting to that.” Tilting his head to the side, dark hair slid across his cheek. “You stabbed me.”

“I did.” I took another step back, throat now too dry to swallow.

“In the chest,” he tacked on. The front of his tunic was torn, but there was no stain of blood. Nothing. If it weren’t for the smear on the blade, I wouldn’t have believed I had actually done it. “Almost in my heart.”

A tremble ran through my hands. “Well, it seems it had very little impact on you.” Which was terrifying on a whole other level.

“It stung,” he growled, head straightening. “Deeply.”

“Sorry?”

His chin lowered. “You are not sorry.”

I actually was. Sort of. “You grabbed me.”

“Do you stab everyone who grabs you?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Especially when I’m in a home with a dead body and someone grabs me from behind without any warning!”

“I’m not ready to talk about why you’re even in this home with a dead body,” he stated, and I frowned. “But first, you don’t sound sorry.”

“I was—am—but I wouldn’t have stabbed you if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?” Disbelief rang in his tone.

“You grabbed me,” I repeated. “Without warning—”

“Perhaps you should look before stabbing?” the god argued. “Or has that never occurred to you?”

“Has it ever occurred to you to announce your presence so you don’t get stabbed?” I shot back.

The god moved fast. I had no chance to do anything. He was suddenly in front of me, gripping the dagger blade-first. He yanked it from my hand. A second later, silver-white energy crackled over his knuckles. The light flared and pulsed, swallowing the blade and the hilt. The shadowstone and the iron handle crumbled under his grip.

My mouth dropped open.

He opened his hand, and the lamplight caught the ashes of what remained of my dagger as they fell to the floor.

“You destroyed my dagger!” I exclaimed.

“I did,” he parroted my words.

Stunned, all I could do was stand there for several moments. I couldn’t even think about the years my family had kept that dagger safe, waiting for me. “How dare you!?”

“How dare I? Do you think that maybe I don’t want to be stabbed again with it?”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you simply said hello!” I shouted.

“But what if I just happened to startle you?” he challenged. “You’d likely stab me even then.”

I balled my hands into fists. “Now, I really want to stab you again.”

“With what?” His chin lowered once more, eyes a swirling storm. “Your bare fingers? I’m half-tempted to allow you to try.”

I inhaled sharply at the almost teasing tone. He was amused by this. But he had destroyed my favorite dagger. Whatever flimsy hold I had on my restraint had been severed. “Maybe I’ll get my hands on another shadowstone blade. And instead of going for your heart, I’ll aim for your throat? Can a god survive without their head? I’m eager to find out.”

He arched a brow. “I think you actually mean that.”

I smiled widely then—the same kind of expression I’d given my mother earlier. “Perhaps.”

Shock briefly flickered across his face, widening those churning eyes. “You actually dare to threaten me? Even now?”