A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)

by Amanda Bouchet

I feel like a Cyclops is sitting on my chest – suffocated.

the type of man who can cleave an enemy in two with little effort and even less consequence to his conscience.

but I didn’t stay alive this long without the help of a healthy dose of paranoia.

“You soothe me, Cat.” She guides us along the rough stone wall as we travel down the back side of the amphitheater. “You’re a balm to my soul.” “I’m a bucket of water to your torch.”

There’s magic in spoken language. It’s binding. There’s a reason people ask for someone else’s word. Every sentence a person utters can be a promise – or a betrayal.

Kill or be killed – the family motto.

The low voice washes over me like the incoming tide on a dark night, chilling despite the heat.

You’re scaring people off with that look.” His expression darkens. “What look?” “That one.” I wag my finger in his face. “The one that says I’m big, I’m bad, and I can chew you up, spit out your guts, and use your bones for toothpicks.”

Typical warlord: huge ego, huge sword, huge ass. Figuratively – the rest looks just right.

He levels a flat stare at me that would wither a person who hadn’t been tortured, beaten within an inch of her life, and nearly murdered six times in her own bed before the age of fifteen.

He chuckles, the warm, appreciative sound sending a wave of heat through me that has nothing to do with the southern climate. My words come out surprisingly husky when I ask for his question.

Even if palm reading is a hoax, his rough skin still tells a story of battles and blood.

“Soothsayer, remember?” “You’re exactly what I think you are, aren’t you?” The woman who divines the truth through falsehood? The most coveted diplomatic weapon in the realms? The Kingmaker?

Deep breath in. Long breath out. Cats don’t cry.

So this is it, exactly what Mother was trying to teach me, to pound and torture into me. Love is weakness, an exploitable flaw.

“I know what one decision – one person – can change. But I form and execute plans. I don’t second-guess, and I rarely call myself into question. That’s not all Sinta needs. Our goal isn’t just to dominate, like previous royal families. It’s to rule.”

With my heart racing like a herd of Centaurs, I need a moment to recover the power of speech. “Use your own soap!”

Carver doesn’t feel right. His body isn’t solid enough. He doesn’t smell of citrus soap and sunshine. He’s just… not the same.

His eyes flare a heated silver, something shockingly possessive roaring to life in his hooded gaze.

Heat sizzles through me, coiling deep in my belly. My lips part on a silent gasp, and his eyes drop to my mouth.

The low sound that rumbles out of him is raw, primal, and utterly male. He looks ready to s...

What’s wrong with me? I must be coming down with something, like empathy. Gah!

grinning like sirens with sailors on the horizon.

conquered a kingdom and found a treasure.” His voice turns gravelly, low. “I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

He turns again, his dark eyebrows raised. “Does my rare and surly Kingmaker really need me to answer that?” he teases. His? My pulse speeds up. “Okay. Fine. Besides that.”

There are only a few coppers in my pocket, along with the obol I wouldn’t even consider giving up. That coin is for Charon, and it’ll stay in my pocket until the day I need to pay the ferryman to row me across the Styx and into the land of the dead.

Thundercloud eyes flash to mine. “No one touches you.” I chew on my lower lip, confused. “You’re touching me.” His eyes dip to my mouth. “I’m the exception.”

through them. I have to dance. I dance and skip like the child I was never allowed to be. I’m happy. I fear nothing. I don’t have to watch my back. There’s a giant butterfly doing that.

His expression reminds me of a starving man who just stumbled upon his next meal. Focused. Hungry. Ready to pounce.

Adorable? My jaw hits the riverbank. No one’s ever accused me of that before. Great. Now I can’t make faces or roll my eyes. My life just got bleaker. So why do I feel like smiling? Gah!

His deft fingers work fast, untying the knots. He stuffs the rope into his saddlebag, drags me onto his lap, and then plants his mouth on mine. The kiss sizzles through me, quick and rough and shocking me to my toes. My lips tingle from hardness and warmth. Heat explodes through the rest of me, racing under my skin like a storm on the wind.

Have I cheated death again? Hades must be allergic to me.

His voice is fierce in my ear. “You’re mine now, Cat. Don’t you dare die on me.”

“He came here to save you. He looked like he cared.” I shrug, glancing down. “I’m a weapon he doesn’t want to lose.” “I think there’s more.” My eyes snap back up. “Don’t infer something that isn’t there. We’re both monsters.” Her dark-blue gaze flicks over me, unnerving. “Monsters still mate.”

“No, this is. Listen to your heart. You think it’s black. I don’t know everything you’ve been through, but I know enough to understand that your past filled you with hostility and hate. But you still laugh. You still love, and you protect the people you care about. You’re not who you think you are. You’re better, and you’re more.”

Seriously? It’s over, just like that. No more tussle. No more hard, heavy body on top of mine. No more hot breath in my ear. No more tongue. Thank the Gods. Gag! Sort of. Except not at all. Gah! I’m going insane!

“You like us too much for that,” he says, his cheerful smile threatening to infect me with something awful, like a good mood. “And everything’s going great.”

“There are things I could boast about, but I’d rather show than tell.”

Temporarily insane, I slip my hands around Griffin’s neck and touch my tongue to his. I taste his husky groan as he spears his fingers into my hair, gripping the nape of my neck to tilt my head back and deepen the kiss. His other hand tightens on my waist, pulling our bodies together. He’s intense, hungry, and yet surprisingly gentle.

No one has ever been careful with me before.

These people actually like each other? What kind of family is this?

“You care. The second people laugh at you, it’s over. You took this on, now you all have to play the parts. Flawlessly. Or else…” I make a throat-slitting motion.

“Run.” The command is deep and echoes eerily. It doesn’t sound like me. It hammers my enemies like a storm from Olympus.

His words make me feel like honey that’s been left out in the afternoon sun. It’s hard to be ruthless when I’m slowly melting.

Saving them today doesn’t mean I won’t destroy them tomorrow. That’s my fate, after all.

Daphne’s hands curl into fists. When she speaks, her voice is so low I have to strain to hear her. “Why are you doing this? What does that dark little Fisan have that I don’t?” Griffin looks at me. He sees me watching them and doesn’t look away. “My heart.”

He’s so steady and sure, the exact opposite of me. For that alone, I never want to give him up.

“Live your life,” Griffin says. “For yourself. For me.

A harsh breath explodes across my cheek. Griffin goes still, seeming to forget he was kissing me. I glance down at his arousal. The skin is soft, but he’s steely hard. It’s a rather amazing contradiction. I carefully run my hand up and down his thick length, marveling at my discovery. I do it again, this time brushing my thumb over the blunt tip and feeling a bead of moisture there.

“Relax.” His voice vibrates against me. Through me. His tongue sweeps up, parting my folds and hitting my sensitive nerve endings.