Throne of Ice and Blood (Flame and Thorns, #2)

by Marion Blackwood

“The first and only draining,” I retort. His face is an unreadable mask as he holds my gaze. “Draining you of magic is the entire purpose of a life slave.” “I am not your slave.” “That collar around your neck says otherwise.” “If you ever drain me again, I will kill you.” He slowly wraps a hand around my throat and holds me firmly in place while his eyes sear into mine. “You and I both know that if I want to take it, I can.”

“So maybe I should leave you here for a while to teach you a lesson about disobedience.” His eyes glint. “And because you look really fucking hot in handcuffs.”

one day, I swear I’m going to be the strong and powerful one standing before him while he kneels on the floor.

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands. She’s mine. Got it?”

I know what I need to do now. I need to escape, I need to find the human rebellion, and then I need to warn the Red Hand about Draven’s mission. That cold hard wall around my heart thickens as I cast another glance at Draven. I will protect the Red Hand and the human rebellion. Even if it means that I have to kill Draven to do it.

“You took off my collar.” “Yes.” Even his tone is unnaturally controlled. “You trust me not to manipulate your emotions and try to escape?” “No.”

“Because if I have to see you in this collar one fucking second more than absolutely necessary, I’m going to start killing people.”

“I could always just handcuff you to your desk again.” His eyes glitter. “You’re welcome to try, little rebel. But you and I both know that you look a lot hotter in handcuffs than I do.”

Draven might have shown me a scrap of mercy by taking the collar off when I’m in his quarters, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is the Commander of the Dread Legion. A loyal servant to the Icehearts. He might not be draining my magic, but I am still his prisoner. I can’t trust him and he can’t trust me.

There is no companionship, no respect, no warmth, in any of their eyes when they look at him. Instead, their expressions are full of resentment. And not just any resentment. It’s so strong that I can practically feel their acidic hatred even without using my magic. And so obvious that it’s impossible to miss.

“You know what to do. If you think Azaroth chose wrong when he made me clan leader, you need to challenge me for it. You need to kill me and release the magic so that Azaroth can choose someone else.”

I always thought that he didn’t care that his own people hated him. But maybe this all bothers him more than he admits.

“You wanna talk about being deceived?” Pain flickers in his eyes. It’s followed by something deeper. Something more like hurt. “How do you think I felt back in that underground forest? How do you think I felt when I realized that you didn’t fuck me because you genuinely wanted to? That it was all an act. That you didn’t really want me. That you only fucked me as a distraction to steal the ring from me.”

“So hate me all you want, little rebel. And fight me all you want in private. But out here, in public, you need to act as if I’m your God.”

“You’re going to regret that wish. Because inside these walls, I’m going to become your worst nightmare, and I won’t stop until you bow down before your own personal Queen of Hell.”

“As long as you act like I’m your God outside these walls, I welcome your hell in here, little rebel.”

My heart skips a beat when Draven spins us around and pulls me down with him as he sits down on the dark gray sofa that was waiting behind me. He sits down farther back on the cushion and spreads his legs wide before positioning me between them. My back is pressed against his muscular chest as I try to balance my weight on the edge of the cushion right in front of him. He lifts his legs and drapes them over mine, spreading my legs wide open and keeping them like that.

“I thought you didn’t want me in your bed.” “I thought you climbed into it anyway.”

Draven nods towards the open door to my bedroom. “You have thirty seconds to go and put on your nightgown. Then I expect you in my bed.” Heat rushes through my whole body. Licking my lips, I swallow. “Or what?” “Or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder, carry you back there, and handcuff you to it.” Forbidden desire shoots through me.

“Let’s get something straight.” His eyes burn through my very soul as he locks them on me. “I am not a hero. I don’t care about other people. I only care about getting what I want.”

“So I don’t wring my hands about collateral damage,” he says as he holds my gaze with those intense eyes of his. “I take what I want from this world. And God help anyone who stands in my way.”

“Mark my words, oh Shadow of Death, I will put you in your place one day.” With his pants still hanging low on his hips, he lifts a hand and draws soft fingers along my jaw. And the grin on his mouth would have made the King of Hell himself proud. “Come try it, little rebel.”

Sparkling warmth floods my entire body at the look in his eyes. He is staring at me as if I’m the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

During the commencement ball for the Atonement Trials, Draven was wearing fancy formal clothes and a cape. A cape that would get tangled up in his wings if he tried to fly. He explained that it was a statement. A way of showing others that he is so powerful that he wouldn’t even need his wings to win if someone tried to attack him. But now, he’s not wearing a cape. He’s not even wearing fancy formal clothes. Instead, he is wearing armor. Which means that he considers this banquet so dangerous that he can’t afford to waste any of his advantages.

“Draven has always won. He has always completed every mission he has been given. Crush that rebellion. Bring that clan to heel. Burn that city. Conquer that castle. Assassinate that person. He always succeeds.” Smug amusement flits across his face for a second. “But not with this guy. The Red Hand is the only one who has ever gotten away. The only one who has ever outsmarted him.”

“Did you know that during the first six years after he swore allegiance to the Icehearts, Draven didn’t use the half-shift at all. As a gesture of respect and submission.” He scoffs. “Like some kind of⁠—”

“I marked each and every one of their faces, and I swear to you, I will make them all crawl before the week is over.”

Then a gasp escapes me when Draven lowers himself to his knees. “You’re right,” he says, tilting his head back so that he meets my gaze. “I kneel for nothing and no one.” His golden eyes burn like flames, searing right through my soul. “But for you… For you, I would kneel.”

DRAVENNNNNN

Draven Ryat, the Shadow of Death, leader of the feared Black Dragon Clan and the Commander of the Dread Legion, is on his knees before me.

Draven is still on his knees before me. His eyes glitter in the faelight as he flashes me a devilish smile. “How was that for revenge?”

“Don’t get cocky, little rebel.” He flashes me a sly smirk. “You and I both know that I can have you begging for my cock with just a few strategic strokes of my fingers.”

I want the Icehearts hurt. I want them to suffer. I want them to despair. I want a fucking war. I want to make them watch as this whole castle burns to the ground around their heads. I’m going to turn this whole fucking city against them.

“Did you seriously just throw me over your shoulder and carry me away because I was talking to another guy?” I slam my fist against his back again and kick my legs at his stomach. “What kind of jealous territorial bullshit is this?” “First of all, you weren’t talking to him. You were flirting with him. And secondly, I’m not jealous.”

“Fine.” He works his jaw, still holding my gaze with those burning eyes of his. “I’m a jealous territorial bastard who can’t stand the thought of you flirting with someone else.”

“Because you’re mine.” I arch an eyebrow at him. “Your life slave?” “No. Mine. In every sense of the word.”

“So fucking hot. All I wanted to do was to bend you over a table and take you right then and there to show them all that you are fucking mine.”

“Your goddess can’t help you.” He curls his fingers inside me. I gasp and yank desperately against the handcuffs. His eyes glint as he locks them on me. “I am your God now.”

“And that is how I felt when I had to watch you saunter around half-naked and gloriously cocky in a place where I couldn’t just shove you up against a wall and fuck you into the next century. So remember this feeling, because this is what I will do to you if you ever try to pull another stunt like that again.”

With his cock buried deep inside me, he locks intense eyes on me. “God, you’re so fucking hot when you threaten me.”

The tension inside me turns into a thrumming storm as he fucks me just the way I want him to. As if I’m his. As if every inch of my body belongs to him and him alone.

And when pleasure floods his handsome face, everything feels so right, so perfect, that the rest of the world just drops away. For those precious moments, it’s just me and him. Our bodies and souls joined as one.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers against my lips. “You’re so fucking perfect.” A small noise comes from the back of my throat. And as I kiss him back, I can’t for the life of me understand how I’m supposed to make myself remember that one crucial fact that I must never allow myself to forget. That Draven and I are supposed to be enemies.

“How did you know that I was in danger?” I shout at him again. “How did you know where I was?” “Because you’re my mate!”

“You’re my mate.” Draven drags in an unsteady breath and then slowly shakes his head. “When Jeb and Tommen attacked you, when the wolfbear attacked you, when those four assholes attacked you tonight… I could feel your fear.” “You can feel my emotions?” “No, I can’t feel all your emotions. I can’t even feel all your fear. Right now, I can only feel the strongest of your emotions. Which is the sheer undiluted terror that comes when you’re about to die.”

Two people who are destined to be with each other and who share a deeper connection than just normal love. Two souls drawn to each other in some epic bond. While I have never actually talked to a fae who has found their fated mate, both our race and dragon shifters have them. Though they’re much more common among the dragon shifters. And I had no idea that a cross-species connection was even possible.

“All my life, I’ve been desperately trying to get people to accept me and trust me and like me. I have only ever spoken and behaved in a way that they would approve of. But not with you. With you, I have only ever been me. But if I start manipulating your emotions, our interactions won’t be real.” A small and bitter sigh escapes my lips as I shrug. “But I suppose that’s ruined now anyway.”

Draven presses on. “If you care about me in any way, don’t do anything. Don’t say anything.” He tightens his grip on my cloak while his pleading eyes sear into mine. “Please. I’m begging you.” His words hit me like a blow to the chest. Please. I’m begging you. Draven doesn’t beg. Ever. What the hell is going on here?

snakes. Because this is my fault. I’m the one who has been destroying clues that would lead to the Red Hand and I’m the one who has been manipulating the humans’ emotions every time I sneak down to the city, causing them to protest and refuse to work. And now, Draven is paying for that. My heart cracks a little more every time the whip strikes. Only when Draven’s wings have been rendered completely useless does Emperor Bane finally stop. Torn strips of membrane hang down in shreds, and blood coats everything that remains. It slides down the tips of his wings and drips down on the ground below, painting the gray stones red. Draven remains standing completely still while Bane rolls up the thin metal whip and hooks it to his belt.

The moment they’re gone, Draven sucks in a shuddering breath. Then his knees buckle.

“Goddess damn it, stop being such a fucking idiot! I am offering, you thickheaded overgrown bat, so just take it!”