her near death, and just like then, it was strangely . . . wonderful. Like falling from a bucket of ice water into velvety blankets of slick, glossy heat.
She shivered as the fiery tendrils pulsed through his splayed palms and into her belly, coiling and sliding through the hollow of her bones. The feeling was almost sensual, like a visceral caress of fire.
If she could have curled into him and fallen asleep, she might have in that moment. Even as a part of her recognized that a Noctis as deadly as Stolas possessing abilities to sooth and disarm was all kinds of unfair.
At least, to his prey—which was basically everyone in existence, except maybe the Shadeling and the Goddess.
No one should wield that amount of power. Even Stolas.
Especially Stolas.
For a wild heartbeat, she wondered how it would feel to have him use that euphoria on her while awake. Twice now, she’d received his gift while out of it. The first time in pain after the wyvern attack. The second time after Archeron’s cruel vision spell.
All she could remember from the experience was a flood of warmth, although different than the physical warmth now cascading through her body. A bubbling, peaceful feeling, like molten sunlight gurgling through every part of her body.
Like liquid happiness.
Filling every wound, every jagged hole.
Mending the broken parts of her piece by piece.
Yes, she decided as they speared through the delicate layer of clouds and were enveloped in pure, diaphanous white. An immortal capable of both absolute pleasure and complete destruction was the most dangerous creature in existence.
You love a monster.
By the time she realized just how far up they were, the clouds were hundreds of feet below and Stolas was diving toward the highest tower of Castle Starpiercer. Her ears popped, muffling the squawks of the ravens that startled from the tower’s domed roof. More huge black birds gathered on the wrought iron railing of the balcony that circled the chamber, watching them with keen alertness.
Stolas’s chamber.
He whispered a spelled command as they dove toward the nearest balcony, and a fire flickered to life somewhere inside his room. The second her boots brushed the marble floor, she jerked free his hold, scouring the chamber to distract herself from the wild urge to crawl back into his arms.
Curiosity quickly overwhelmed anything else she might have felt. His chamber was off limits to everyone. The one and only time she visited was right after Archeron’s assault, and her memories between waking up and making it to the hot baths were fuzzy, at best.
The first thing she noticed was the warmth. This high up, the temperature was below freezing, the winds absolutely brutal. And yet despite boasting no walls, the pale silk drapes that hung from each column hardly moved at all. A fire crackled from a marble fireplace, veiled by a metal screen in the shape of wings.
Between the fire, whatever spells kept the wind out, and the warmth still radiating from Stolas, his room was bursting with heat.
She flicked up a brow. “Your chamber?”
“You said you wanted somewhere warm, and we need privacy, so it was either here or the lip of the volcano on the other side of the island.”
A part of her suspected the volcano would have been less dangerous. She spun in a slow circle, skimming her gaze over the fur throws, scattered furniture, and books. “Do you always keep it this hot in here?”
“Only when entertaining guests.”
“Did you entertain a lot in your old life?” she asked before wishing she hadn’t.
If his mood was dark now, bringing up that painful part of his history surely wouldn’t help. But this place was obviously built large enough to accommodate more than just Stolas. It was huge. The size of the library back in Penryth, at least.
And Goddess Above, that bed . . .
It came into view, a circular monstrosity of exotic furs, oversized pillows, and glossy sheets.
A sweep of goose bumps ridged her skin as her body recalled how it felt wrapped in those layers of luxury. The sheets gliding over her fevered skin, cool and silken. The furs plush and comforting. And Stolas all around her, his power, his scent, his breath as he whispered in her ear, those powerful limbs holding her still, caressing and—
Nope. Pivoting so that her back was to the poster bed, she developed a sudden interest in the armoire, a beautiful teakwood piece that looked well loved, despite appearing ancient. A large silver cage filled with shiny, stolen trinkets—a