Goldfinch (The Plated Prisoner, #6)

by Raven Kennedy

“I will find you. I will find you in that life. I fucking promise you that. But you have to go. Please, baby.”

“Lead well, Commander.” He bows at the waist. “I’ll protect Fourth with my life.” That’s what I’m afraid of.

Because I’m going to her, and nothing, not even this rotting fucking heart in my chest, is going to stop me.

that is rare and coveted and revered. This is a päyur bond fusing.

means that she and I are a match fated by the goddesses. It means that we have been given the greatest gift ever bestowed on a fae. It means that she’s mine.

You have your own light, little sun. So you must carry it with you when it grows dark.

I might not know anything else yet, but I do know this truth with innate certainty. My name is Auren Turley. And I am stronger than the dark.

“So fucking devastated that I was going to lose you,” he replies, stark honesty rumbling out of his gravelly voice. “That I was going to lose you before I could tell you that I love you.”

He smirks. “We like the fire. We each don’t back down to the other, and we like it that way. So don’t lie and try to act like we can’t stand each other, because we both know that’s not true.”

“You almost died,” he says again. “And I’ll never fucking forget how close it was. Just like I won’t waste any more time now that we’ve gotten a second chance. We can’t fight this anymore, Rissa. I’m claiming you as mine.”

I stare at him. Mouth opening and closing like a struggling fish. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t just…claim me!” I say shrilly. “I just did.” My back stiffens. “I am an independent woman. I decide who to be with.” “You’ll decide to be with me.” My teeth grind. “You cocky son of a bitch.” “And yours.”

“You can’t love me,” I tell him, my voice full of denial. “I can.” No argument. No added detail. Just a vow. “You don’t want me really,” I argue. “I do.” “You won’t always.” “I will.” I can, I do, I will.

“Like I told you before, you’re the best mistake I want to make. Over and over again. For the rest of our lives. So what do you say?”

“Don’t let me down, Osrik. Don’t you dare, ever, make me regret this,” I demand harshly, delving into his brown gaze, sticking him just like he’s stuck me. The corner of his mouth twitches. “You threatening me, Yellow Bell?” “I absolutely am.”

“Good,” he says. “Because the two of us? We threaten anything that might try to tear us apart—including each other.” I swallow hard at the praise in his tone. “You won’t let me down?” I press.

“Never, Rissa,” he replies firmly. “I will never, ever make you f...

“Rissa Bell…” he murmurs, lips pulling slightly away, even as I try to chase them down. “I will kiss you for fucking ever, but you just woke up from your deathbed hours ago and you need to rest…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I hear you anyway.”

“Your last name is going to be Ferox soon, because that’s mine.”

nod slowly, and the hunger that comes in his eyes makes my stomach go hot. “Yes, but I hope being captain of Fourth’s army pays well, because my taste is very expensive.” He chuckles, and great Divine, I do love how the sound seems to travel all the way down my back. “You get whatever you want, so long as I get you.”

His smirk drops. “Don’t talk about seeing many others, or I might ask for every single name of every single man you’ve seen so I can fucking kill them all.”

“My jealousy doesn’t discriminate, and I’m thorough.”

“With me, you aren’t a saddle. You’re just you. That means you do whatever the fuck feels good for you. In whatever position you want. I’ll take you from behind, from front, backwards, forwards, upside fucking down. I’ll slam you against the wall or be fucking sweet in a tub. Don’t worry about pleasing me, because I promise, I’ll enjoy every second of whatever we’re doing, however we’re doing it, because I fucking love you. You get me?”

Then he asks, “How do you want me, Yellow Bell?” And I can’t be mad at that.

“You faked your pleasure,” he grumbles, and then he spanks my ass again. I cry out, and while it’s not overly painful, his hand is large enough that the strike stings the entire cheek. “Vow to me now, you will never fake it again.”

“How pissed are you?” he asks. “Oh, I’m fuming.” The hairy giant has the audacity to chuckle. With me still bent over his knees, my entire ass emanating heat, and wetness coating my thighs. The absolute bastard. “I didn’t give you more than you could handle,” he tells me before smoothing his rough hand over my smarting bottom. “And I wouldn’t have done it if your body wasn’t telling me it was exactly what you needed,” he adds, dragging his finger down to my throbbing pussy.

“How could I ever get impatient when I’m seeing you? When I’m touching you?” he grinds out, swirling his finger for a second before he takes it out. I look up to see him suck his finger into his mouth, licking my juices clean off with a satisfied groan. “How could I get impatient when I’m fucking tasting you?”

“You don’t fake with me. You not ready to come? Then that’s fucking heaven for me because it means I get to keep touching you.” His mouth comes down, beard scraping against my neck. “Get to keep tasting you.” Those lips press against mine, making me taste my own arousal with decadent wickedness. “Get to keep fucking you…” Pulling back, he looks into my eyes. “Now take your pleasure, Rissa.”

Rissa glares at me. “I am not the kind of woman who will just wait around for a man who’s going off to get himself killed!” she seethes.

need a bag.” I glance down at the huge pile and start counting all the pieces. “This is too much shit, woman.” She gives me a look so chilling it might actually make my balls shrivel. I clear my throat. “I meant, I’ll make this shit fit.” “Yes, you will,” she says haughtily.

“They will always have an affinity to you.”

“Winged creatures will feel a kinship toward you,” he says as he continues to pet her. “They will sense innately that you are their authority. They will want to defer to you. Strive to please you.”

“Winged creatures will feel a kinship because of what you are. Of what we are. This,” he says, moving his finger to press against the side of my spike, “is a symbol of that. We are Culls. But more than that, we are the dragon-wielders of old.”

My father presses a thumb to my scales. “This is power, boy,” he says before dropping his hand. “Every bird knows what lives in your blood. They can sense the dragon in you.”

“And yet…” he goes on, his voice dropping down an octave. “After five generations of Cull blood, someone in our line finally manifests both scales and spikes, but you still cannot call forth a dragon.”

“The Cull line has given you dragon-blessed blood,” he seethes. “You could be king of the skies, where all winged creatures would bow to you, and yet you can’t even manifest an incorporeal splintered form!”

“You will erase this weakness of caring, do you understand me? You are a Cull—we cull the weak. Including what we find in ourselves.” He removes his hand to shove me toward the table. “Rot them.”

He stares back at me with cold emptiness. “Good,” he says, pointing at my gaze. “That is what it is to be a Cull.”

One by one, the hatchlings’ bodies return to normal, as if time turned backward. The rot leaves them, and their little hearts start pounding wildly in their chests, throats opening to utter small cries. I pick up the mother marewing, ripping off a piece of my sleeve to set and bind her wing before I pull the rot back from her too. Then I gather them all, shaking and terrified, and take them outside into the crisp air to sneak them into the woods. Because my father’s wrong. I’m not a Cull, and I never want to be. I’m my mother’s son. I’m a Ravinger.

Only, it never did. And he never fucking forgave me for it. For generations, every son born in my father’s bloodline was able to manifest a dragon. The first Cull to do it was covered head to toe in blood-red scales that isolated him from other fae. When he manifested a fully corporeal dragon years later, he punished everyone for their snub by having his dragon wipe out the entire village. Culls became king of the skies for centuries, until that inherited magic dwindled away. Fewer scales, fewer spikes, no dragons. I was the first to be born with both spikes and scales after five generations.

Until we’re back together, our bond will carry this underlying urge. Päyurs don’t do well apart. We are meant to be together. That’s why we’re a pair. We’re no longer meant to be separated.

Something that I would have been too proud for, too selfish for. Too short-sighted for. I, Queen Malina Colier, fall to the ground and kneel.

“I should kill you,” I repeat, “for the way you treated Auren. For the way you fucking allowed your husband to treat her. For doing nothing.”

Instead of fire like the tales of old, flames of rot pour from its maw, lethal vines of rotted roots expelling from its throat. It gushes into the land below, and the ground buckles.

I told her I’d be the villain for her, and I was. Now, I need to also be the hero she would want me to be.