Agony claws at us – the man and me. My dark world inside his consciousness, all mist and shadows, is lit by a sole window. A view out of his mind at exactly what he is seeing.
Exactly who he’s looking at.
Eyv.
Dead.
She can’t be dead… –
Pax ignores me, screaming and struggling with the same gut-wrenching realization.
We’ve been waiting. We’ve been planning. We’ve been needing.
The memories are too clear, too raw. The young, ambitious Cataclysm hanging delicately from Lucif’s arm. The Black Castle’s outer corridor was only partly covered, lavishly adorned in far-too-large embroideries, and ran between all the wings. Lucif’s and our own included.
She was there. Day after day. Glimpses from a distance of black hair, muddy-brown eyes, and gifted silks. She always got my hackles up, but so did all of Lucif’s hand picked entourage.
Even when I didn’t know she was stalking Jessamy.
Even when Jessamy was out of sight, walking the village with Killian, exploring the market, we paced inside trying to convince ourselves that she was safe. She was safe.
We were far from the castles and their political troubles.
We were quiet and peaceful and forgettable.
We were no threat.
We should have been safe.
No one is safe! –
Not the baby, not Jessamy, not Tali – silver furred and gentle, writhing in the pain of loss. Her fawn colored eyes glazed with tears and her body raked in a fever so strong that Jessamy didn’t even have the strength to take form again.
No one is ever safe – not until we kill them all.
We need to kill them. Each and every one. Us. That should have been us! –
It needed to be us. To feel her pulse. Tear the flesh from her neck. I needed to see her pain. I needed to feel that blood.
We waited too long, hesitated to draw her out. Let her approach. Nevermind the damage that has made our legs almost fucking useless.
The man and I were in agreement. None of that mattered so long as we could destroy the last Hyll.
Let her get close, then sever her hands in two sharp blows. That’s how we took out the other Hylls. No hands. Then slow strangle or fast mutilation – depending on which one of us was in control.
Pax crawls across the leaf-strewn forest floor. Dragging us within arms reach of the body. It was a fast mutilation for sure. Arms, legs, a head, and nothing from in between. The blood already smells ripe with rot, and the head lolls to the side to stare at us with dead eyes.
“It needed to be us,” he growls low, grasping a fistful of leaves and crushing it hard enough to push blood and bits between his fingers.
And now she is gone – but the hole in our soul remains.
No Bubble
Gone.
I can barely breathe enough to accept the word – the truth.
The woman who has hunted us, tortured Pax, ended his family and the lives of his loved ones, is dead.
Pax cries out, like seeing her dead is the opposite of a relief. Dragging himself forward. Man, then wolf, then man again.
Moonlight reflects off the stream of dark red blood across the forest floor. Crunched in Pax’s hand, a fist around the nothing that is left of her. It’s grief, I can hear it in his cries, but I can’t understand why, and I don’t linger to try.
The other Sabers fill my mind in sharp clarity, two beside Roarke, two next to Pax, one in front of Killian.
I ask the glass, And them?
And the glass obeys.
Eliminate – the voice inside me says, but I clamp it down hard.
I have to concentrate.
Just the bad guys, I try to hold that notion tight. Nothing else on my mind. One train of thought, one idea, this one desire. Go around my Elorsins – keep them safe.
Unlike using Allure, this power doesn’t rip at my mind. But the way it calls to me – as it explodes out from the pieces of Eyv’s body, flowing around my guys but smashing into everyone else – takes everything in me to control. I don’t even dare to breathe. It flows like water, and I struggle to hold the current in my hand.
Very sharp. Very deadly water.
Around the horses, I whisper.
I squeeze my eyes shut but still, somehow, feel the world through the movement of the glass. Everything is black and shimmering in my mind. Anything the glass brushes against paints outlines. Each Saber falling. Even the position of the leaves on the ground.
My fingers slip from the branch, my body falling far too easily. This could be a problem, considering Seth threw me too far up to climb down, but if I let go of the glass, they’re all dead.
So I let myself fall.
“Seth,” Killian shouts.
I feel Seth move. Feel him dive into the current because getting to me is more important than being cut to pieces. The glass bites into his skin.
Around him! I shout. Always around him.
The glass responds. Obeying. But it doesn’t want to stop. It’s furious, alive and aggressive and demanding action. To kill. To protect. The world is just black, but the shards cut lines of light in the dark, painting in detail each and every curve of his body in my mind.
All too quickly, I reach the bottom. Even knowing Seth’s underneath me doesn’t prepare me, and I slam into his arms – hard.
He buckles, his knees hitting the ground, cradling me down.
“Vexy,” he whispers.
I can’t respond. My body is locked up tight, my mind consumed by the connection.
“Is the glass yours?” he asks.
I offer a strangled noise that’s close to a confirmation but may also be a whimper.
“Can you stop it?”
Stop it? Why?
They’re safe, I realize. My guys are the only ones left standing. There’s no one left to kill.
They’re safe.
Thank you.
The glass falls to the ground, and I force my eyelids open. Seth’s deep blue gaze waits patiently to lock onto mine.
“And breathe,” he says.
Oh, I
