Page 136 of She Who Holds My Wrath

I take it with a smile. “Oh my god, thank you. I’d be devastated if I lost this. It’s from a Taylor Swift concert. I don’t know if you know who she is, but she’s a legend. A total queen⁠—”

He lifts a hand, rubbing his temple and I clamp my mouth shut.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “Too much talking again.”

He lets out a quiet laugh that takes me by surprise. “Just don’t leave it lying around again. Or I’ll throw it in the pit with the rags.”

I gasp, placing a hand over my heart. “Blasphemy.”

He rolls his eyes in that infuriating way again, but this time there’s a smirk tugging at his mouth. “See you tomorrow.”

He turns to leave, but I call after him. “The hell you will. Tomorrow’s my day off.”

He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. “Thank fuck for that.”

My mouth falls open, but he just winks and chuckles as he walks away, leaving me standing as I clutch my bracelet in utter shock like a Victorian maiden who has just seen an ankle. Infuriating prick.

But why did I get butterflies when he winked at me?

Chapter 45

DAISY

It has been days since I had that strange dream, and I can’t shake her words from my head.

Born for a reason. You were theirs, and now you are mine.

I swear, if there’s one thing I hated about ever meeting Korithax—other than this whole war stuff—it’s the sheer number of cryptic assholes I’ve been forced to know since. What is so wrong with just outright saying what you mean? Why does everything have to be layered in riddles and half-truths and ominous pauses? It’s all so headache inducing. Especially when there’s no one I can talk to about it. I don’t want to make Korithax spiral, Aran is buried in the grimoire and failing leylines, and I haven’t seen Ezra since he was dragged off to the healing quarters to start his training.

And on top of demons threatening my best friend, creepy mirrors whispering cryptic prophecies, and an impending war… someone is actively trying to get through our wards.

I blow out a heavy breath, resting the back of my head against the carved headboard of our oversized bed. Korithax is still sleeping soundly beside me. He’s lying on his front, muscled and broad, his tattooed arms bare and powerful as his hands disappear beneath the pillow. Gods, he looks so fucking good like that.

Since the council meeting in the war room four days ago, he’s stayed with me every night. Sometimes during the day, he vanishes without a word, only to reappear hours later, sweat-soaked, his knuckles bloodied and swollen. I never ask where he’s been or what he’s been doing. I know he’s doing whatever he can to keep the thing living inside him at bay.

He still hasn’t touched me since that night, though. He kisses me and lets his hands roam over my body. But he won’t let himself go any further. Not after he bit my throat and made me bleed.

The thing is… I genuinely did enjoy it. At the time it hurt like hell, but it was a good kind of pain. Gods, I’m turning into a sadist. I miss him, though. I miss the feel of him on me… in me.

“Daisy,” Korithax rumbles, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “You’re aroused enough that your scent woke me.”

I burst out laughing despite myself. He turns his head, one dark brow lifting in question. “Sorry, I was just thinking of the other day,” I murmur, my cheeks heating.

He grabs me suddenly, pulling me atop him as he rolls onto his back. I squeal, laughter spilling from me as I land against his solid chest.

“Oh?” he murmurs, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “And what exactly were you thinking about, my queen?”

I can feel his solid length beneath me, and it takes everything in me not to grind down against him. I don’t want to push him, though. I don’t want to make him feel like he needs to do anything he’s not ready for. So I shake my head, refusing to answer his question. He doesn’t like that, and decides to roll his hips up into me, slow and deliberate, drawing a soft moan from my throat.

“Tell me,” he growls.

“I was thinking about when you bit me,” I gasp as he rocks into me again.

He goes still. A faint frown creases between his brow, tension flooding his body. I lean forwards, cupping his cheek, stroking my thumb gently over his skin.

“Korithax,” I say softly. “I enjoyed it.”

“I shouldn’t have lost control like that,” he says firmly. “I should never hurt you.”