Page 79 of Sword & Sacrifice

Probably that he was smart.

Because it should be afraid. He should be afraid of what he had to do next.

Valerian had no idea what the consequences would be. But it wasn’t fear thrumming through his veins. It was a raw, savage need for destruction. To show the mage prowling through his mind once and for all who he was fucking deal with.

Valerian held his hand out, palm up, toward the tree. Pictured the heat of the fire, the feel of it on his skin. He’d burned Alistair once before. The tree should be an easier target.

A tiny flame flickered to life on the center of his palm, barely the size of a candle flame. It would need fuel to grow much brighter. Well, Valerian had plenty. He offered the tiny fire up to the tree, to the oil coating the trunk.

In seconds, the whole thing went up in flames.

Valerian tossed his head back and laughed again, firelight dancing in his eyes. “Burn, fucker, burn,” he whispered, watching in awe as the flames devoured the memory—

Pain seared through his mind. Stumbling, he grabbed his head. His breath stalled in his lungs and the world shifted underfoot. Fuck, if I faint now, the whole place will burn.

At least then I might take Alistair with me.

Valerian shook the thoughts away. He would not lay down to die just to take one sorry bastard with him. He was a survivor. He’d survived a childhood taking someone else’s punishments. Decades as a mercenary. And he’d survived Maksim. Though when he tried to think of how, all Valerian remembered was a dark scorch mark. He remembered living on the run. Remembered the relief of knowing Maksim could never hurt him again. The how, the why, the everything between, was now only a black, sooty stain in his mind.

“So that’s what happens,” he said, staring at the burning tree in awe. Without ever moving, Valerian stood fifty feet away from it, safe from the fire.

In fact, everything had moved away from it. Every tree, every plant, every bit of visual space.

The burning tree stood alone in a black clearing.

The fire wouldn’t spread beyond that clearing. The rest of the forest—and Valerian’s own mind—was safe for now.

Valerian was glad for that. He had no intention of haphazardly destroying himself.

He’d always preferred calculated destruction.

Which was why he would choose his next memory carefully. Something he didn’t need. Something he was willing to give up to draw the enemy out.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Penn woke slowly, like a kite being reeled down from the sky. As he floated back down to earth, he first became aware of every ache in his body, like he’d spent the previous day riding a horse hard and fast. Or riding something else. It wasn’t unusual to feel this way after a night with Val, though the mage often took pity on Penn and gave him something to ease the pain. Next, he noticed the arms around him—one slung carelessly over his waist, the other shoved under his head like a pillow.

He snuggled deeper into the embrace, tempted to return to the dreaming sky. But a hot length pressed against his thigh and the person holding him shifted in a way that implied they could have much more fun if they were both awake.

“Good morning to you too,” Val’s pleasant voice rumbled, husky with sleep and desire.

Penn grinned mischievously and finally opened his eyes to stare into a pair of hazel eyes. That might be my new favorite color. Relief loosened his muscles until he practically melted into the mattress. He couldn’t pinpoint the source of his relief, though. It wasn’t like Val had a habit of slipping out of bed before Penn woke.

Maybe it was seeing the scar over Val’s left eye. Proof that last night hadn’t been a dream, that Valerian had really opened up to Penn, shared the deepest parts of himself.

Thinking of the night before, Penn pushed himself up on his elbow and looked around the room. They were still at Causley Estate, guests after a storm prevented them from leaving. The bright sunlight peeking through the curtains said the storm had passed safely. They’d leave today, move on to—

Where are we supposed to go next? Somewhere important—

Soft lips pressed against the edge of Penn’s jaw, a stark contrast to the roughness of Val’s stubble. He trailed several light kisses over Penn’s skin, drawing a line from jaw to collarbone.

Penn sank into the feeling and back onto the bed. I missed this. The thought made his brow furrow. What was there to miss? They’d kissed and more through most of the night. Though before that, they’d argued on and off for days, but he couldn’t remember what about.

The trail of kisses tapered off as Val shifted to hover over Penn. Those hazel eyes crinkled, filled with desire and contentment, as if he’d happily spend all day lounging in bed. He leaned down to press another soft kiss to Penn’s lips—

A forceful knock on the door halted him. “Breakfast.” The voice was peevish and familiar, though Penn couldn’t think of their name or face.

“Reginald,” Valerian supplied, his tone dry and annoyed.