Death's Lover Read Free Page B

of the sky.
    The closer Cian drew to his queen’s side, the more he felt her fury. It boiled inside him like a festering wound. He grimaced, tasting the blood from where he’d bitten his cheek earlier, and knew that bit of spilled scarlet would not be enough to assuage her thirst for revenge.
    He went now to plead his case for the witch. The woman was still far from safe; he’d only granted her a temporary asylum. The queen could choose at any moment to send another reaper out there to finish what he hadn’t. Whether the beating stripped all the flesh from his body or not, he meant to see her safe.
    *  *  *
    “Well, now, this has been a most interesting turn of events. Wouldn’t you agree, Chaos?” Dagda—king of the earth elements and of the fae—asked.
    The Morrigan—goddess of strife, war, and death—narrowed her eyes at him. “I despise when you call me by that name.” The air quickened with the sharp nip of frost.
    Oh yes, his queen was in a fury. He ignored her typical protest of his pet name for her with casual cool.
    “You do revel at my misfortune, ugly bastard.” Though her words were harsh, they were laced with a thread of humor.
    Dagda chuckled. The thunderous boom of his voice filled their antechamber with resonance; it echoed off the high ceiling and caused gold dust to shower down upon them.
    Despite the fact the fae god seemed merry, his voice held the power to kill if he chose. He’d done so on rare occasions. Though he found he didn’t have the same taste for blood as his bonny Chaos did.
    He covered her ivory hand with his dark one and proceeded to run his thumb along her knuckle. “Chaos, you old hag, calling your king a bastard. I take offense.”
    A swift smile played on her bloodred lips. Then the humor was gone, replaced by an immediate, unnatural calm.
    “Frenzy, bring me my cat-o’-nine-tails and sharpen the blades on the ends until they gleam,” The Morrigan said in a calm monotone.
    He, however, was not deceived. Dagda had seen her like this many times; this mood never boded well. She was as the eye of a hurricane, merely an illusion of quiet, peaceful tranquility.
    The stealthy figure of a reaper emerged from the shadows of the wall. Frenzy dipped low to his queen, his long crimson hair trailing along the stone floor like a sea of blood. Straightening, his silver eyes flashed with a hint of madness.
    Normally Dagda would not interfere in The Morrigan’s punishment of death. But he must find a way to temper her; far-reaching works had been set into motion and she was not to do anything with lasting consequences. An oracle to the chosen ones had warned him long ago this day would come.
    Though it grieved him to do so, he must now assume the role of order to his queen’s chaos.
    “Chaos,” he said.
    Her eyes flashed with annoyance—their normal icy blue changing to the ruby red of her crows, Badb and Nemain.
    Dagda drummed his fingers on his armrest. “What do you propose to do with Cian?”
    Her nostrils flared, and the fire and shadow of her hair swirled as she cocked her head. “Ten thousand lashes for his disobedience.”
    Dagda stroked his smooth chin. “And the mortal? What of her?”
    “I’ll send Frenzy. She will not escape her fate this time.”
    “I see.”
    She lifted a curved black brow, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Dagda,” she cautioned, “do not interfere.”
    His lips curved at the corner, but he didn’t say another word.

Chapter 3
    C ian entered the castle gates and immediately felt the sense that all was not well. It was like a rush of ice down his spine. He scanned the dimly lit corridor, noting how the inhabitants shuffled here and there, never glancing up and unnaturally quiet. An expectant hush filled the stone keep.
    The only eyes that stared back at him came from the skeletal heads affixed to the walls as candelabras. Golden flames flickering inside empty mouths cast strange and undulating shadows down the hall.
    The Morrigan kept