Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)(78)
Isla stopped shaking him. “You do?”
He nodded as much as he could manage. “The thief has a favorite hiding place.”
“Where?”
“Here, on Nightshade.”
Hope bloomed. “Close by?”
He shook his head. “No, no. Far.”
“Where?”
“The Caves of Irida.”
Isla stopped breathing. That was a very specific location. She didn’t know where it was, but Grim would.
Suddenly, her hope began to deflate. “Wait. If you’re so sure you know where it is, why haven’t you stolen it back?”
He laughed, but it sounded faded. He was moments from sleep. “Besides the fact no one will go near it? Because it’s impossible,” he slurred. “The thief has a monster.”
“Monster?”
“It guards her bounty.”
“What kind of monster?” she demanded.
But the thief had succumbed to the liquor. She let him go, and he crumpled against the chair, making a snoring sound. The snake slid across his face, as if trying to wake him.
Isla only realized that in her fervor to get information she had climbed atop the man when Grim opened the curtain to the room. She stood quickly, grinning, mouth opening, ready to tell him everything they now knew, when she abruptly shut it.
Grim looked furious. He looked at the man, sleeping peacefully, then at her.
“Don’t kill him,” she said.
He gave her a look.
“You look like you want to kill him.”
“I want to kill a lot of people,” he said, like that made things better. He looked her dead in the eyes. “I kill a lot of people.”
She swallowed, and his gaze went straight to her throat.
He stalked toward her, and Isla backed away. Her spine hit the wall. Her heart seemed ready to beat out of her chest, but she smirked. “I got the information. I know exactly where the sword is. Seems like I’m a perfectly good temptress.” In the most mocking tone that she could manage at the moment, she said, “Tell me, nonpowerful Nightshade. Was I able to tempt you?” He frowned down at her, and she grinned. She stared up at him through her eyelashes. “Did I make you fall hopelessly in love with me?”
Isla gasped as he pinned her against the wall. His hands were rough against her hips. His fingers traveled up the sides of her stomach, to her ribs, to her breasts. She arched her back, groaning as his thumbs made wide sweeps across them. She knew he could feel her emotions, her want.
“No,” he said against her parted lips. “You are not something special to me. You are not something I want to love.” He reached up to her lips and smeared her red lipstick with his thumb. “You are something I want to ruin.”
Then he ducked his head to her throat and bit her.
It was a light bite, just a scraping of his teeth, but Isla gasped, which turned into a moan as his tongue swiped across the same spot. She wanted him so much—she wanted everything.
In a single motion, he turned her around, so her chest was pressed to the wall. His hands raked up her thighs, until he gripped her hips.
Before she could move against him or do any of the millions of things that were racing through her mind, he made a portal with her starstick against the wall in front of her and pushed her through it.
SPLIT
She woke up next to Oro and couldn’t even look at him. When she was in her memories, it was as if everything was happening to her, again, and—
It felt like a betrayal.
Oro would tell her it wasn’t her fault. That these things had already happened, months before she ever met him.
But now, reliving them . . . sleeping next to someone else . . .
It was a poison she was feeding herself. Forcing herself to swallow it down, even though it was killing her inside.
She felt like she was being split apart. Past Isla, a person she barely even recognized. Current Isla, who had slipped back into pain, into anxiety, into hurt, due to the memories.
A person could take only so much.
Midnight was a comforting time of action. Perhaps it was the quiet, or the fact that the chances were low that someone would stumble upon her, or the indulgence of patting herself on the back that she was going above and beyond by even being awake at this hour, let alone working, or maybe it was all of that encapsulated into one.
Maybe it was because she was part Nightshade.
She used her starstick to portal herself to Wild Isle. There, she went through the Wildling movements. She began practicing forming the types of defensive, thorned plants that she would create across the Mainland. She made patches of bog sand.
Isla visited her room before she went back to bed and watched herself in the mirror. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. Her lips were raw and chapped. Her skin was rough in some places where it had been smooth. She looked too thin.
Her eyes slid to her neck. It looked bare.
It was not.
She touched a hand to the necklace, which only she could feel, and anger built inside. Of course Grim would gift her a necklace impossible to take off. Of course he would make sure she couldn’t forget him, even though she wanted to.
She remembered his words when he had gifted it to her, at the ball. Should you ever need me, touch this. And I will come for you.
Enough. Isla got one of her blades and positioned it precariously against the necklace. One slipup and she would be dead, but she would not slip. She began trying to cut the damned thing off.