House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City #3) by Sarah J. Maas

Morven’s and his father’s scents—with the others in tow—cut through nearly hidden tunnels and steeply descending passageways, as if the Stag King knew every secret, direct route. He probably did, as King of Avallen. Or maybe the ghouls showed him the way.

Eventually, Ruhn’s body screamed for water, and he paused. Lidia didn’t complain—didn’t do anything but follow him, always alert to any threat. Yet as they once again rushed down the passage, Lidia said quietly, “I apologize for last night.”

Despite every instinct roaring at him to hurry, Ruhn halted. “What do you mean?”

Her throat worked, her face almost luminous in his starlight. “When I … flinched.”

He blinked. “Why the Hel would you apologize for that?” Pollux should be the one to apologize. Hel, Ruhn would make the fucker apologize to Lidia—on his knees—before putting a bullet in his head.

Color stained her cheeks, a rosy glow against the misty darkness behind them. “I like to think myself immune to … lingering memories.”

Ruhn shook his head, about to object, when she went on. “Everything I did with Pollux, I did willingly. Even if I found his brand of entertainment hard to stomach at times.”

“I get it,” Ruhn said a shade hoarsely. “I really do. I’m not judging, Lidia. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever.”

“I want to, though.” Lidia glanced at his mouth.

“Want to what?” he asked, voice dropping an octave.

“Know what your body feels like. Your mouth. In reality. Not in some dreamworld.”

His cock hardened, and he shifted on his feet. He didn’t mask the arousal in his tone, his scent, when he said, “Anytime you want, Lidia.”

Except, of course, right now. But after he sorted through whatever shitshow was about to go down in these caves—

The pulse in her throat seemed to flutter in answer. “I want you all the time.”

Gods damn. Ruhn leaned in. Ran his mouth, his tongue, up her neck. Lidia let out a breathy little sound that had his balls drawing tight.

Ruhn said against her soft skin, “When we get out of these caves, you’ll show me exactly where you want me, and how you want me.”

She squirmed a little, and he knew that if he slid his hand between her legs, he’d find her wet. “Ruhn,” she murmured.

He kissed her neck again, watching through heavily lidded eyes as her nipples pebbled, poking against the thin material of her shirt. He’d explore those a lot. Maybe do a little exploring right now—

A rasping, ancient hiss sounded from the rocks nearby.

And this was so not the place. Ruhn peeled away from Lidia, meeting her eyes. They were glazed with lust.

But she cleared her throat. “We have to keep going.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Maybe you should, ah, take a moment,” she said, smirking at the bulge in his pants.

He threw her a wry look. “You don’t think the ghouls will appreciate it?”

Lidia snickered. Then grabbed his hand, tugging him back into a steady, paced run. “I want to be the only one who gets to appreciate it from now on.”

He couldn’t stop the purely male smugness that flooded him. “I can live with that.”



* * *



“I know what Theia did,” Bryce said, shaking her head. “She tried to send her daughters back to their home world, but only Silene made it.”

Aidas arched a brow. “I’m assuming you have gleaned something of the truth, if you know of Silene by name. Did you learn what happened to her?”

“She left a … a magical video that explained everything.” Bryce pulled Truth-Teller from the sheath at her side. Here, at least, the blades didn’t pull at each other. “Silene had this with her when she returned to her home world. And now I’ve brought it back to Midgard.”

Aidas started at the sight of the dagger. “Did Silene account for what happened during that last encounter with her mother?”

Bryce rolled her eyes. “Just tell me, Aidas.”

Thanatos and Apollion shifted in their seats, annoyed at her irreverence, but Aidas’s mouth curved toward a smile. “It took me—and Helena—years to understand what Theia actually did with her magic.”

“She shielded her daughters,” Bryce said, recalling how Theia’s star had split in three, with an orb going to each of her children. “She used the Harp to carry her magic over to them as a protection spell of sorts.”

Aidas nodded. “Theia used the Harp to divide her magic—all her magic—between the three of them. A third to Silene. A third to Helena. And the remainder stayed with Theia.” His eyes dimmed with an old sorrow. “But she did not keep enough to protect herself. Why do you think Theia fell to Pelias that day? With only a third of her power, she did not stand a chance against him.”

“And the sword and knife?” Bryce asked.

“Theia endeavored to keep the Asteri from being able to wield her power to use the sword and knife. Both weapons were keyed to her power, thanks to Theia’s assistance in their Making,” Aidas explained calmly. “It is why the Starsword calls to the descendants of Helena—of Theia. But only to those with enough of Theia’s starlight to trigger its power. Your ancestors called these Fae Starborn. The Asteri have no power over the blades; they lack Theia’s connection to the weapons. Since the Starsword and the knife were both Made by Theia at the same moment, their bond has always linked them. They have long sought to be reunited, as they were in their moment of their Making.”