Glow (The Plated Prisoner, #4)

by Raven Kennedy

Slade’s lip twitches. “I will be the perfect gentleman,” he assures me. “I only want to take care of you, to help you relax. Nothing more. And I’ve seen you bare before. There isn’t an inch of you I haven’t touched.”

“I hate that I had to use my power against you, but don’t mistake my guilt for regret, because you will be sorely mistaken. I would do it again in a fucking heartbeat.”

“If you say so.” “Why are you so fucking concerned?” “Why aren’t you?” Ryatt counters. “We all saw her that night. She might look like a mountain on the surface, but she’s a volcano ready to erupt. And when she does, it’s not some small thing.” “She’s fine.” Ryatt doesn’t let it drop though. Not that I would expect him to. Half of his personality is arguing with me.

“I want you to ask me those questions that have been on your mind since you woke up. I deserve to hear them. You deserve to voice them. One in particular. So ask me.” His gaze is dark, his tone hard. But not with the fight that I was trying to pick. Not with anger at all. With anguish. I suck in a breath.

“Where were you?”

“I thought you were going to come. But you didn’t.” My voice is choked, shaken, and every word I say lands a flinch across his face. “So where were you?”

“I thought you were going to come,” she tells me, and the confession bleeds like a wound from her tongue. “But you didn’t.”

“He drugged me.” Her declaration makes my eyes flare. My entire fucking chest feels like it splits open, chains be damned. “He fucking what?”

Where were you? I didn’t just fail her. I allowed her to be fucking destroyed.

Tears that never should’ve been there. Not if I’d done my fucking duty and protected her the way I promised.

Disgust consumes me, and I curl my hands into fists. “Where was I?” I say with a sigh, making her eyes slam back to mine. “I wasn’t fucking there.” I wasn’t there.

And yet, she came down from that mezzanine, she fought her way through a crowd, and she stood in front of me to face Midas, claiming me in front of everyone, looking like she was ready to fight the world in order to protect me. And I … I wasn’t fucking there.

But seeing this side of him—seeing Rip—it makes me let out a shuddering breath. Because even though he’s still him no matter what form he’s in, I somehow missed him. This is the version of him that I knew first. The version of him that I trusted and pined for.

It’s moving like aggravated shadows, an overcast of dense torment.

“An apology is an insulting, shallow word,” Slade forces out. “I hate that all I have to offer you is a cheap word. Sorry is inadequate.” He shakes his head, his shoulders tense, though I doubt it has anything to do with the spikes that tore from his back. “I failed you so utterly. You should loathe me for it. You should never be expected to forgive me for that. But I’m a selfish piece of shit, because I will try to earn your forgiveness anyway.”

“Fuck Midas.” He blinks in surprise. “What?”

“I see.” My shoulders tense. “You see what?” Rip leans forward. “You know what I think?” he says instead of answering me. “I think you already explained why your gold isn’t working.”

“What are you talking about?” “You said that both you and your gold can’t be trusted.” “It’s true.” He raises a finger and points at me. “And that right there explains it. Because our emotions are tied to our power, Auren. That includes fear of our own magic.”

It’s not a stubborn answer. It’s a plea for him to drop this. Sympathy crosses his expression, but he doesn’t give in. The bastard never gives in. “Tell me.”

And that’s when I found Milly. Or really, when Milly found me.

from?” “My accent does not give it away?” he teases with a tap on his nose. “I was born in Southern Orea. Though, I lived here for a while. Trained here.”

Slowly, I’ve been able to relax. Yet that’s when I noticed that the people of Drollard are … odd.

“It seems Slade and I still have a list of things to talk about.” “Yeah, he likes to be dramatic about being the whole brooding, silent type. It’s become his whole personality.”

It’s all very … pleasant. So why then is the hair on the back of my neck standing up?

Emotion drips thickly down my throat, clinging to the back of my tongue. “I won’t ever again give myself to someone who doesn’t give himself back to me. So if there’s someone else here … I need to know about it.” I see his throat bob, his eyes flicker.

I feel shame though, because the last thing I want to do is judge him for his magic. He certainly didn’t judge me. “Why are you keeping him alive?” “Because I want to,” he replies, making something scrape down my gut.

I shake my head. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re good. You’re—” “No, Goldfinch,” he interrupts. “I’m good to you. But I am every bit the villain that I warned you I was.”

Which is why I don’t even hesitate to reach over and clasp his hand in mine. It’s why I can hold his gaze, without fail. It’s why I say, “If you’re a villain … then I’ll be a villain with you.” A slow, sexy grin rises from the grounds of his grim lips.

Ryatt’s eyes go comically wide. “You’re going to show her … that? Right now?”

My father looks at me. “Since she won’t tell you, I will,” he spits, like venom streaming from a snake’s fangs. In response, my own canines seem to throb in my gums. “What did your mother do when she thought I wasn’t going to be home for the night? She invited another into her bed. Spread her legs like an Orean whore.”

“Control, Father,” I mock, throwing his constant command back in his face.

“Ryatt …” my mother cries. He hesitates, eyes bouncing from the break down the middle of the house to my mother’s crumpled face. But then, his eyes land on Jak’s unmoving body. “Father!”

“I know what you went through was horrible, but for what it’s worth, I am glad that you’re here in this world with me,” I say quietly. His eyes soften. “Oh, Goldfinch. I would’ve found you in whatever world you were in. In whatever life.” My lips tip up in a soft smile, because I believe him. “You would’ve found me in them all.”

“I see you, Goldfinch,” he murmurs, his eyes so full of tenderness that I still can’t believe I’m on the receiving end. “I see you too, Rip,” I whisper.

“What are you doing?” “I’m going to grab your face and kiss you.”

“Kiss me,” he commands again. I want to. “You want to,” he says, like the jerk is reading my mind. I immediately shake my head. “No, I don’t. I don’t even like kissing you. It’s the worst.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Is that so?” “Yes,” I reply tartly. “You have bad form. I should’ve told you before.”

“One person’s pain doesn’t negate another’s. Our heartaches are not competition, but the bridge to empathy. So that we can look at one another and know that on some level, we understand. That’s one beautiful thing about grief, I think. That sometimes, we can find someone in the world to look at from the other side of the bridge of our torments and know that we are not alone.”

“Have I dazzled you, my lady?”

“I hurt you.” “You didn’t. It’s barely a scratch,” I say as I pull my sleeve back down. “But you were worrying me.”

Eagerness travels up my spine. From my peripheral, I see Pruinn grin.

The twins grin, and both of them stand to walk over to me in synchronized steps. They each hold out a hand for me to take. “All you need to do is say you agree.” I’ve never been more ready to do anything in my life. I take their hands, letting them lift me to my feet. “I agree.” Behind them, Pruinn murmurs, “And so the bargain is struck.”

The man makes a noise that I think is supposed to be a laugh, though it sounds like gravel being scraped against glass. “I thought you were supposed to be at least a little bit intelligent with all of that cold bitch cunning.” “How dare—” “Look around you,” he says, cutting me off. “See. Observe. You can’t trust the people here.”

yet as soon as I’m in the bed with him, he seems to sense me. His arm comes out, gripping me by the waist, and he tugs me over as if I weigh nothing, sliding me right up against his body. I hold my breath in surprise, going still, but he doesn’t wake. He simply lets out a long exhale, as if he can relax even more now that I’m tucked against his side. I fall asleep just as quickly as he did, with a sigh and a smile drifting from my lips.

Her smile breaks through like the sunlight above us. “The song of home,” she says. “The sun is singing the song of home.” My chest swells, and when she reaches a hand up and tugs at my arm, I lie back with her, situating until we’re arm to arm, leg to leg. “Listen,” she whispers. So I do. I thread my fingers through her own, and I listen. But my song of home doesn’t come from the sun. Mine comes from her.

“You need clothes,” he says with a shrug. “Plus, it’s purely selfish.” “How so?” He leans in close. “I get to rip every single piece off you. It’s like getting to decide on the wrapping paper for my own gift.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? That people think I’m seducing you for your magic?” “I don’t give a fuck what other people think.” “That’s such a man thing to say,” I reply with a slight roll of my eyes as I take another bite.

“That’s true,” he concedes, watching as I take another drink. “Reputations can also mean power.” “Says the king.” He leans in close, lips almost brushing my ear. “Says the king to the fae female who’s conquered him completely.”

I level him with a look. “I think I’m starting to learn that you’re just as unhinged as some of the Orean rumors have claimed.” His devilish smirk only grows. “Oh, love, I’m worse.” The racing organ in my chest does a flip when he calls me love. “You’re better than you give yourself credit for. You’re good. To me, to your Wrath, to your people.” “If you knew what I was thinking right now, the last thing you’d call me is good.”

“My lady—” he grits out. “It’s fine.” His face goes red, but at least the rest of his bruises have faded away. “It’s not.” “What’s wrong?” Slade asks, coming up beside me with the wrapped up bracelet, his gaze bouncing between Digby and me.

Slade sits in the seat directly across from me, his wide legs opened on either side of mine.