To Snap a Silver Stem (Crystal Bloom, #2)

by Sarah A. Parker

A small warmth presses against my back and tames my rioting heart. There she is. The smell of amber and wildflowers wraps around me in the way her body does not, and I smile despite myself. “Hello, Milaje.” Silence. Not even a breath. She steps closer, pushes that blade deeper. “Careful. The sword you’re flattened against is sharp.” “So is mine,” is her rasped response—three

“Getting quite bossy, aren’t you?” Brow arched, he holds my narrowed stare for a few triggering moments before he turns and continues down the way he was going. “I like it.”

“I also like this,” he says, gaze flicking to my blade suspended between us. “Just so we’re clear.” “You’re not going to like it when it’s hilt-deep in your flesh.” “I wasn’t talking about the dagger, Orlaith. I’m talking about your living, breathing fire.”

Pushing back, he lets the tapestry drop with a thump that scatters a riot of dust. “I won’t determine your steps, Milaje. I’ll even let you trip. But I refuse to let you fall.”

“I don’t need you watching over my shoulder.” “Not an option, I’m afraid.” His gaze hardens as he prowls forward, swallowing my space until I’m backed against the wall, smothered in the rich scent of leather and a crisp winter’s day. “I told you. I’ll hunt you to the four corners of the continent.”

“There is nowhere you can hide. Nowhere you can go. Even if this were to stop beating,” he says, threading his hand over my rioting heart, “I’d follow.”

What I regret is letting her believe she doesn’t hold my cold, crippled heart in the palm of her hand. Because she does. She always will.

“But that didn’t stop him.” It would never stop him. “Because he was hers—forever—even though he knew his love was lethal.” He was hers.

“Never,” he snarls, stamping more crushing pressure along my body. Letting me eat up his weight and bathing me in his masculine scent. “I’ll never stop hunting this pulse.” He presses a kiss against my neck that burns like an icy brand.

“You’re going to go to war with him? Over me?” He doesn’t blink or flinch. “I’d strike the fucking world down for you.” All breath escapes me.

“You really are a monster,” I rasp, like I just swallowed a thorny seed that’s stuck in my throat. Choking me. He rakes my face with his glacial gaze, settling on the thorned tips of my ears. “Your monster,” he whispers, and I draw a staggered breath. Hold it. Leaning close, his icy exhale pours over me, fingers threading through my hair, tugging me close, fitting me against him so perfectly—as though we’re bound together by something greater than ourselves. “Just yours.”