Dark Court Rising, Tome 3 : Curse of Darkness

“Where are you?” The wyrm screams, battering its way closer.

Rocks and debris scatter like toys. I manage to crawl two steps before an enormous rock slams into me. I can’t stop a cry.

And the delighted squeal of air behind me tells me it heard me.

The wyrm snakes toward me.

I throw an arm over my face and—

Nothing.

Barely breathing, I risk a look.

The wyrm is frozen in place, black blood dripping down its pale face and violence in its glittering eyes as it rises over me.

But it bares its teeth, clearly hesitant to strike, its gaze settled on something behind me.

And that’s when I hear the first footstep.

Boots crunching over shattered glass. The wisp of a cloak trailing through the dust.

We’re no longer alone.

“Hello, my lady of summer,” whispers a familiar voice. A shadow falls over me, wings draped behind it.

Thiago.

I spin around and there he is, stalking toward us with unhurried steps. Tall, lean, viciously elegant. I’ve seen him move like this in company, in the courts. It’s like he slips into another skin and becomes the savage Prince of Evernight, but the Thiago I loved is a different male. He’s kinder. Softer. Prone to dangerous smiles that steal my breath.

My gaze leaps to his face—to those eyes.

They’re black.

This is not my husband. Not the charmer. Not the rogue who pins me to the bed and laughs against my throat.

This is the Prince of Evernight.

The Master of Darkness.

My heart cursed near bursts in my chest, a strangled sob choking in my throat. He’s back. He’s here. I can’t stop myself from raking my gaze over his face. I’ve tasted those hard lips and felt them soften beneath mine.

I know every inch of my husband.

But the power spilling from within him….

It’s thick enough in the air to choke me. A banked threat. A whispered malice. And the glitter in his eyes as he stares at the wyrm sends a shiver all the way through me….

Thiago slowly smiles as he plucks at the buttons on his wrist, and carefully rolls his sleeve back, like a gentleman preparing for a ball. “Would you care to dance again, Great Enryathan?”

“My territory,” the wyrm hisses. It bares its teeth, its forked tongue flickering between them.

Thiago’s face remains cold and expressionless. “My wife.”