Page 122 of The Never List
Streaks of lava spear through my veins, the heat settling between my thighs at the image he’s painted. The same image I fantasized about when Ivy forged the invitation to the Choosing for me. Goddess, that feels like years ago, not mere months.
I’d laughed at the idea then, secretly envisioning what it would be like to have four powerful men like them consume me entirely.
And now?
It could be my reality. My soul soars at just the thought.
But just as quickly, my hopes are dashed. Because Kal, Axl, and Pierce might’ve taken to me, but Jax is the Nightmare.
And Nightmares don’t fall in love and live happily ever after.
the obsidian city
36
Rylee
“I’ve never seen Pierce so happy,” Mirren says as our carriage rumbles into the Obsidian City, the horses’ hooves clip-clopping along the cobblestone road.
I fiddle with Pierce’s ring, switching between his, Kal’s, and Axl’s bracelet hugging my wrist. The tokens give me hope, but it’s hard to keep the doubts at bay.
“Really?” I ask, unable to stop the onslaught of thoughts as we drive toward Jax’s home.
Pierce knows my secret—one of them, at least—and he hasn’t used it to his advantage, hasn’t held it over my head in a power play.
My skin crawls as I remember every single time Turner caught me past curfew or outside my boundaries and used that crime to his advantage.
Hands too rough on my skin. His tongue forcing its way into my mouth. A single, traitorous tear sliding down my cheek as I take it, knowing it’s this or the dungeons.
“Yes,” Mirren says as we turn down another road, jarring me from the memories. Those are real nightmares, not whatever Jax thinks he is.
That thought steels my nerves. I’ll just have to prove that to him.
“I’ve known the princes since birth,” she reminds me. “I know their moods as easily as my own. They’re a handful, to say the least, but they’re…special.” She eyes me from where she sits on the cushioned bench across from me. “I didn’t think you could handle it when I first met you.”
“That makes two of us.” I laugh.
“But you’ve proven me wrong, Rylee,” she says, and I swear the sharp, rigid woman sounds somewhat soft.
“Wait,” I say, grinning ridiculously as I span the distance between us, scooching close to her. “Are you saying youlikeme?”
“No.” She swats at my hand on her shoulder. “No embracing.”
I laugh, falling back into my seat across the carriage. But I can see it there—the slightest hint of approval. Well, if I can earn that from the hardest woman I know, then maybe, just maybe, I can get the Nightmare to dream with me.
Our carriage pulls into a gated estate, the brick walls surrounding the property high and ominous. The house itself is made from obsidian, naturally, and looks like something out of a dark fairy tale I read ages ago. It’s all slick black rock with carvings of wild beasts laid into the stone, with wrought iron bars over the windows and spindly pieces jutting along the roof.
“Cozy,” I say as Mirren and I head inside with our bags.
I scan the space, inhaling deeply and shivering at the smell of Jaxeverywhere.Smoke and leather have my senses tingling with anticipation, and I reassure myself of what I decided earlier—I will prove to Jax that I’m not afraid of him. That I’m not like the others who’ve come before me. I’ll prove to him that whatever nightmares he can dish out,I can take without a flinch. Because that’s what he needs, and honestly, it’s who Iam. I’ve suffered enough living nightmares to hold my own.
If I can do that…if I can get him to love me despite being a liar, maybe we’ll be able to move forward and create the kinds of changes Lumathyst needs.
Mirren guides me down a set of black walnut stairs that seem to go on forever before we reach a lush basement as big as the main floor. The charcoal carpets are soft beneath our shoes, and the walls are black brick, with shelves packed with books stacked haphazardly throughout. A stone fireplace crackles across the room, leather couches centered around it and perched atop a thick, fluffy silver rug, and a glass bar cart filled with crystal decanters rests to the side.
She leads me through this main room and down a joining hallway, turning into the first door on the left.
“This is your room,” she says, and I feel as if we’ve done this a hundred times now. It’s a luxurious space but moody in a way that’s comforting. Mirren points across the hall at another closed door. “That’s Jax’s room,” she says, and my eyebrows perk up. “He’s not here.” She looks at me with what I’m sure is pity, but that can’t be right because Mirren never shows pity.
