A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire, #1)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“But, sometimes, one can be too brave.” The dusky silkiness of his words wrapped around me. “To the point it borders on foolishness. And you know what I’ve found about the foolishly brave? There’s a reason they often rush to greet death instead of having the wisdom to run from it. What is your reason?” he asked. “What drowns out that fear and pushes you to run so eagerly toward death?”

“Will you try to stab me?” “I…hope not.” “You hope?”

“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!”

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.

“That’s not…normal, right?” I whispered. “Which part? The fangs, or the fact that she’s dead and still sitting up?”

“What does liessa mean?” The god didn’t answer for what felt like a small eternity. “It has different meanings to different people.” The eather pulsed in his eyes, swirling once more through the silver. “But all of them mean something beautiful and powerful.”

“Some beg for quite a bit more than a favor.” His voice was like smoke, a shadowy caress. And that voice…it stoked that same odd feeling of warmth and familiarity. “But you’re not the type to cower. I doubt you’re the type to beg.” “I’m not,” I told him. “That’s a shame.”

“I’m not sure if it’s a compliment to know that I remind you of a murderous plant.”

“I do not like you,” I said. His eyes shifted to mine, and that curve of his lips remained. “But you see, you do. That’s why you’re still here and no longer threatening to claw my eyes out.”

I cracked a grin. “Is that a smile?” He leaned over, eyeing me far too intently to be serious. “It is. You’ve graced me with three of them now. Be still my heart.” Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. “It must not take much to still your heart.” “Apparently, it takes a mortal Princess,” he said. “One who roams haunted woods in the dead of night and swims gloriously naked in a lake.”

“I want to kiss you, even though there is no reason for me to other than I want it.” The heated intensity of his stare held mine. “I would even go as far as to say I need to.”

“I think it’s all the wicked, indecent bones in my body guiding my thoughtfulness.”

“If I stayed, I think I’d find myself obsessed with trying to count just how many freckles you have.”

My blood hummed, and the center of my chest throbbed. I tasted shadow and death in the back of my throat as that icy fire burned through me. I lifted my eyes to Tavius’s, the corners of my lips curling up.

I heard words pass my lips, sentences full of smoke. “I’m going to kill you.” I barely recognized the voice as mine. “I will slice the hands from your body and then carve your heart from your chest before setting it on fire. I will watch you burn.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you picked up that whip,” the Primal growled. “And touched what is mine.” What is mine? Another laugh tickled the back of my throat. Now he claimed me?

This tropes is so good, I just have to check my self respect at the door

So much anger. “You,” I croaked. “Get everyone out of here,” the Primal ordered. “Get everyone out of here, including yourselves.”

He totally feels her anger— I’m calling it, he tastes the emotions

I wasn’t sure how one could seduce another into falling in love with them after stabbing them in the chest.

The entity of the blood and ash saga

“What other choice do we have?” Ash stated. “I cannot leave you here, not after this.” He extended his arm to Tavius’s slumped body. “Princess or Consort, you murdered an heir apparent King.”

“Why is your skin so cold?” “What do you think death feels like, liessa?”

“You have beautiful hair. It’s like spun moonlight. Stunning.” “I think I will cut it all off.”

“And I don’t even need to read your emotions to know how much you want that, too.”

“But I’ve been avoiding you because when I’m around you for longer than a few minutes, my interest in you quickly overshadows any common sense. And that is a distraction—a complication—I cannot afford.”

He brushed a strand of hair back from my face. “Thirty-six.” My eyes fluttered open. “What?” “Freckles,” he said, his cheeks…pinker than usual. “You have thirty-six of them on your face.”

I’d fallen asleep beside him the night before. I didn’t know exactly when it had happened. Silence had fallen between us as he continued toying with my braid. I wasn’t sure how long he remained at my side. He’d been gone when I woke, but his scent lingered on the pillows and sheets. I thought perhaps he’d spent the entire night with me.

“Strange that a Consort would have such a violent streak.”

“I feel like I also have to let you know that one of the reasons I can’t sleep is because I kept looking at the damn doors to your bedchambers.” My gaze shot back to him. “And then I lay there wondering why in the hell I placed your chambers beside mine. Sounded like a good idea,” he said, and my stomach rolled. “Now, I’m not so sure. Because I spent far too much time thinking that all I had to do was walk a couple of feet and that chamber wouldn’t be empty. You’d be there.”

I started to smile. “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Smile at me,” he murmured, the silver in his eyes swirling. “Why?” “Because when you do that, there’s utterly nothing I would not allow you to do to me.”

“I have never seen him sleep so deeply. Not even when he was just a babe. The slightest sound would wake him.”

“Sera knows very little of fear. Isn’t that right, liessa?”

The tips of his fangs became visible as his lips peeled back. “All of what you’ve done from the day you were born until this very moment was to become my weakness?”

“You,” he said, his voice a whisper of night, his hand sliding over my jaw. His palm pressed against the side of my throat. He tilted my head back, and I was no longer looking up at Ash. This was a Primal. The Primal of Death.

“I would say I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t blame you for that, but don’t you dare insinuate that what I’ve done with you was purely an act or that what I’m feeling is fake when I’ve spent my entire godsdamn life not being allowed to want or even feel anything for myself!

His now-lifeless eyes tracked those strands as I revealed my neck. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“Don’t lie to me now, even if you do so in such a pretty way.”

“Go to sleep, liessa.” That word again—one I knew could no longer mean something beautiful and powerful to him. It couldn’t mean Queen. I would never be his Consort now. A word that was now a mockery. Or worse yet, never meant anything to him.

And I didn’t need to be a Fate to know that I truly would die. Nyktos could never love me.

“It’s not fair to either of you,” Penellaphe stated softly. “But life, fate, or love rarely is, is it?”

“You are the heir to the lands and seas, skies and realms. A Queen instead of a King. You are the Primal of Life.”