I lead her to the stables, where my carriage is already waiting with two winged horses hitched. Briar gasps when she sees the mares and I feel her curiosity prick against my senses. I catch her arm before she’s even passed me and shake my head warningly. “The Alathian breed is not gentle, I would not touch them if I were you,” I warn.
She nods, eyes flitting between me and the horses. They huff, turning red irises on her and she flinches back. Grinning, I wait for her to climb into the opulent, black carriage. She moves quickly, only giving me a moment to admire her figure before she’s seated in a corner by the window. She pushes back the black drape, tying it open with golden threads. I slam the carriage door closed behind us and take a seat opposite her.
“Hold on,” I say, lounging back in the comfortable leather as the horses snort.
Briar yelps as the carriage jolts. The Alathian mounts launch into the sky, dragging the carriage behind them. Magic keeps the carriage stable and the ride smooth despite the uneven flying of the mounts. Briar shrinks back against the cushions for a moment and I prop my chin in my hand, grinning at her.
“Afraid of heights?” I ask, cocking a brow.
She licks her lips nervously, and my gaze tracks her tongue until it disappears between her full lips. “Not really.”
“No?” My grin widens. “Look out the window.”
“You first,” she says stubbornly, but her chest rises and falls quickly with anxiety.
I cross to her side of the carriage and she watches me worriedly. One of her pale hands lifts as if to steady me but I stop her with a flick of my eyes. I sit beside her and point towards the open window. She scoots towards it and I follow, one leg pressed against hers. She stiffens at the touch, heart pounding in her chest. I feel a small sense of satisfaction at her reaction to me. I lean over her, propping one hand on the windowsill. I move my face to the window and cock my head, inviting her to look closer. She swallows loudly and I almost smile.
Slowly, she leans closer to me, her breath wafting over my face. Her hair brushes over my cheek and she exhales softly at the sight unfolding before her. I can’t tear my eyes away from her as she drinks in the landscape. The ever-setting sun casting her porcelain face in a rosy glow. Outside, she’s staring at the mountains surrounding the valley, covered in tall, dark pine trees. Past that, a glittering river wanders through the landscape.
“That’s the Well of Souls,” she whispers, staring at a tall, spindly spire in the distance.
“It is,” I say, surprise lacing my voice. The Well of Souls sits beneath an ornate tower of moonstone, deep in the earth. It is the resting place for all souls that have been fragmented by horror and trauma, the incomplete people who walked in the mortal realms. They rest in the Well now, in its cool waters.
“I read about it,” she says, moving closer to the window and closer to me without realizing it. I let her warmth invade me and resist the urge to brush my lips over her ear.
“And what did you read?” I ask instead, voice rough with held-back desire.
She points to a canyon, a gaping hole in the world below. “And that’s the Hall of Awakening. Gods, it’s beautiful.” She flashes me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
I laugh softly. “I hardly think of myself as a God.”
“You seem to be the only one who doesn’t,” she says, a smile quirking her lips.
My eyes rover over her face, her round cheeks, and full lips. She blushes under my gaze and turns away, but I can feel her blood thrumming. “Tell me,” I say. “How is it you know so much of my realm?”
“I’ve been reading about the Underworld since I was a child. I’ve known since I was young that someday this would be my home.” Her eyes dart towards me. “And you would be my husband. I wanted to know everything. I read about the Well, The Hall of Awakening, the Blood Forest, Yolnheim, Zculth.”
“Everything?” I cock a brow. Either this mortal didn’t know what her father planned, or she’s a very clever actress. I have yet to decide which.
Her eyes flick to me once more. “Not everything. For all the books on the Underworld, there wasn’t a single one about you,” she says softly.
“And do I meet your expectations? Your imaginings?” I purr, leaning closer. I pin her against the seat and the corner, listening to the drumming of her heart lead me into an intoxicating dance. I move in, pressing my nose to the soft flesh over her collarbone and inhaling deeply. “Are you satisfied?”
She shudders, but I catch the scent of her heat, and it sends my blood racing. "Kane," she says, trying not to stammer.
I lift my gaze, tongue running over my teeth like a mountain lion about to feast. Her eyes stop me. Despite their darkness, I see a fire in them, a glittering awareness and a flash of desire to rival my own. A growl rumbles in my throat and my knuckles go white from holding the windowsill and cushion so tightly. She looks ready, frightened, but ready for whatever is in store.
I scowl, pushing away from her. She utters a confused sound, like a question strangled in her throat. Smoothly, I move to the other side of the carriage and lounge back into the cushions. I wave a hand towards the open window lazily.
“Go ahead,” I drawl. “Since you know so much already, you certainly don’t need a guide.”
She swallows hard and I see a blush creep to her cheeks, splotchy and red. For a single moment, I feel a wave of guilt and regret but I push it away. Now isn’t the time to take her, not yet. It will be the final
