Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Other books by Debbie Cassidy
About the Author
Copyright © 2020, Debbie Cassidy
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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Chapter One
The fire crackled and popped and the night pressed around me like a familiar blanket. Luckily for us, Helgi and company hadn’t made it too far on Vixen, and we’d been able to catch up to them. We’d made it several more miles before Vesper was forced to land. The sun was setting by then, and so we’d made camp.
Helgi and the kids lay curled up near the campfire. The mercs were close by, their huge bodies shadowy lumps that the flames barely touched. Vesper lay further back, still in dragon form.
The electrical charge the Vorn had hammered him with did enough damage to throw his shape-shifting out of whack, and there were some internal injuries that needed healing. He hadn’t protested when I insisted on taking first watch, a testament to how badly he was hurt. He was adamant that a good night’s sleep would put him to rights.
The world was silent as my companions slept, and I finally allowed myself to think about Azazel. Ever since I’d smashed the gem and summoned him, my heart was in my mouth as I waited for a chance for us to speak in private. The seemingly suppressed memories flowed freely through my mind now and my stomach churned in agitation.
He’d been by my side as we flew above Vixen—my super-cool dune buggy—and his presence was a comforting pressure at my back when I’d helped build the fire that would keep us warm through the chilly night.
Now, as I perched atop a rock several meters away from camp and looked out into the starry night, he finally materialized in front of me. Every fiber of my being lit up as my pulse forced my blood to do a speed lap around my body.
He stood before me, his powerful frame covered only in a loose pair of trousers and a flimsy tunic that strained across his muscular torso dangerously. His arms were bare aside from the strange shadowy tattoos that shifted and slithered over his skin. But my attention was fixed on his face, lining up the features to the ones that had finally been unlocked in my memory. His jaw was stronger now—a man’s jaw. His nose was slightly wider and his mouth harder, with a cruel edge that hadn’t been there before, but his eyes...his eyes were the same, still burning with an inner fire that had chided me for my clumsiness, berated me for my squeamishness, but then warmed me with tales of the stars.
He’d been with me every step of the way for three years, taking me from childhood to the cusp of womanhood, and then he’d just disappeared. The question hovered on my lips and then fell into the night in a breathless whisper. “Why did you go?”
He rewarded me with a slow blink and a tightening of the jaw. “I had no choice, Anya. Your new guardian wasn’t too happy about your connection to me.” The bitterness in his tone stabbed at my heart.
“Illyrian asked you to leave?”
“Yes. He asked, but do you think I’d just abandon you on a word?” He exhaled sharply. “I refused and he pretended to concede, but when I let my guard down, he bound me to a gem. It was an enchantment that forced me to keep my distance from you. To remain hidden.”
Enchantment? “Skins can’t use magick.”
His brow arched. “No, they can’t.”
What was he saying? “Are you saying that Illyrian isn’t a Skin?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
I stared at him flatly. “You can’t tell me, can you?”
His jaw ticked. “No.”
Illyrian had done that to him? Forced him to stay away from me and bound his tongue, but why? “Why would Illyrian do that to you? Why would he do that to me?” Anger licked at my senses. I leapt off my rock perch and began to pace. “I told him about you. I called to you, and he made you out to be a figment of my imagination. He convinced me I’d dreamed you up.” The anger was in full flame mode now, but there was an edge of pain to it—the pain of betrayal. “He made me think I was crazy.” I looked up at Azazel. “But I’m not.”
“No, Anya. You’re not crazy.” His tone was a soft caress.
I took a step toward him and then stopped, afraid he would disappear. Afraid he’d leave me again. His ember eyes were twin flames in his face, burning bright and determined. He wasn’t going anywhere, not if he could help it. Emboldened, I bridged the distance between us.
His muscles rippled with tension as I approached, but he remained deathly still. There had been times when he was merely a shadow, unable to touch or manipulate anything, but more often than not he was simply an advisor, because the price of materializing had been too great—not for him but for me. Azazel would happily have taken what he needed if it meant being corporal, but my younger self couldn’t stomach that, not even if the victim was evil enough to deserve it. It was something we’d clashed on too many
