• Melancholy (Jokers' Wrath MC #2) No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)

    Nesryn bowed her head. I … She hadnt anticipated having this conversation. Not right now, at least.

    Aedion slipped through the doors, the cavernous chamber like the ghost of an old friend.How many times had he bemoaned being forced to dress in his finery and stand beside the thrones atop the dais at the far back of the pillar-lined room? How many times had he caught Aelin nodding off during an endless day of pageantry?

    Free Fall (Elite Force #4)

    Then, the banners of all the Terrasen territories had hung from the ceiling. Then, the pale marble floors had been so polished he could see his reflection in them.Then, an antler throne had sat upon the dais, towering and primal. Built from the shed horns of the immortal stags of Oakwald.Stags now butchered and burned, as the antler throne had been after the battle of Theralis. The king had ordered it done right on the battlefield.

    A Dangerous Climate (Saint-Germain #22)

    It was before that empty dais that Lysandra stood. Staring at the white marble as if she could see the throne that had once been there. See the other, smaller thrones that had sat beside it.I hadnt realized that Adarlan wrecked this place so thoroughly, she said, either scenting him or recognizing the cadence of his footsteps.

    The bones of it are still intact, Aedion said. For how much longer that will remain true, I dont know.

    Lysandras green eyes slid toward him, dim with exhaustion and sorrow. Deep down, she said quietly, some part of me thought Id live to see her sitting here. She pointed to the dais, to where the antler throne had once been. Deep down, I thought we might actually make it somehow. Even with Morath, and the Lock, and all of it.He let out a deep groan as she passed over a knot between his neck and shoulder, the sound of it reverberating into her palms, then stiffened. Sorry.

    She ignored the apology, digging her thumbs into the area. Another noise rumbled out of him. Perhaps it made her cruel not to comment on his slight embarrassment, not to dismiss it. But Yrene just leaned in, sliding her palms down his back, giving a wide berth to that horrid mark.She reined her magic in tightly, not letting her power brush up against it again.

    Lord of the Highlands (Highlands #4)

    Tell me what you know, she murmured in his ear, her cheek close enough to scrape the faint stubble coating his jaw. Now.He waited a moment, listening for anyone nearby. And as Yrenes hands stroked over his neck, kneading muscles that were knotted enough to make her cringe, Lord Westfall began whispering.

    To Yrene Towerss credit, her hands did not falter once while Chaol murmured in her ear about horrors even a dark god could not conjure.Wyrdgates and Wyrdstone and Wyrdhounds. The Valg and Erawan and his princes and collars. Even to him, it sounded no more than a bedtime story, something his mother might have once whispered during those long winter nights in Anielle, the wild winds howling around the stone keep.

    He did not tell her of the keys. Of the king who had been enslaved for two decades. Of Dorians own enslavement. He did not tell her who had attacked him, or Perringtons true identity. Only the power the Valg wielded, the threat they posed. That they sided with Perrington.So this—agent of these … demons. It was his power that hit you here, Yrene mused in a near-whisper, hand hovering over the spot on his spine. She didnt dare touch it, had avoided that area completely while shed massaged him, as if dreading contact with that dark echo again. She indeed now moved her hand over to his left shoulder and resumed her glorious kneading. He barely kept in his groan at the tension she eased from his aching back and shoulders, his upper arms, his neck and lower head.

    He hadnt known how knotted they were—how hard hed worked himself in training.Yes, he said at last, his voice still low. It meant to kill me, but … I was spared.