Page 123 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Days, weeks, years she was set ablaze, and didn’t know when the flames began to dwindle. She lay now, her cheek cutting into broken marble, with her vision coming in and out of focus. All she wanted was to drift away. Why wouldn’t her mind let her leave this state of torture?

She thought she saw Kyleer. On his knees, still being restrained from reaching her. But it was someone else’s struggle that broke sobs from her when she realized…saw a glimpse of silver hair…and became desperate to break from this poisonous hold to crawl to him too.

Reylan was fighting for her. To reach her.

Multiple guards restrained him, now on his knees, so close she wanted to reach out an arm but couldn’t move her body.

It was too late.

He couldn’t save her.

Faythe’s mind flooded—not with picture but color. Swirls of sapphire and silver. She would never forget, for it was a sea that didn’t drown, nor could she ever be lost in it as she let go and floated deeper, and deeper, and deeper…

CHAPTER THIRTY

Reylan

She was most perfect thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking it since he’d apprehended her in the Rhyenelle town. How beautiful she was, and how he’d never seen her before then—or at least he couldn’t remember if he had, because in his chest…something familiar awoke.

Marvellas wanted her, and he was her servant.

Now he’d brought her to the Spirit he’d begun to grow anxious. Angrily, confusingly so. He’d done what was asked of him, and it had been easy. Too easy. Why hadn’t Faythe fought him harder?

She shouldn’t be here. No—she was something to be protected and loved. A soul worth waiting lifetimes for. Worth trekking across realms for.

Her blood…he couldn’t be sorry for taking it when it was the single most divine thing he’d ever tasted in his life. He wanted her to give it to him willingly, anticipating it would be even more incredible if she did.

Conflict grew in his mind. A frustrating influence tried to banish his desire for Faythe’s touch, taste, and mere presence.

All he did was stand and watch as Faythe faced off with the Spirit. When she pulled a dagger and went crashing down on top of Marvellas, Reylan could hardly stand his ground. He didn’t want to pull Faythe off to save Marvellas; he wanted to saveherfrom the Spirit’s wrath that came next.

She undressed the finery she wore, but it couldn’t diminish how she shone more brilliant than a pure diamond in nothing but her own flesh.

His chest was pounding, and an itch to do something,anything,had his fists clamping tight when they began to tremble.

They sliced her wrists, and Reylan almost broke to snap their necks for it.

He shook his head that battered with confusing, conflicting emotions. He had to leave this room, but he only twisted a fraction before…

Herscream?—

It obliterated the world around him.

Her agony shattered a hold on his mind he wasn’t aware of.

Reylan blinked, and what he saw, what he realized was happening, snapped a rage so volatile he lunged.

Fae tried to restrain him, but at Faythe’s scream he’d snapped two necks that had attempted to stop him.

He’d let them take her. Restrain her.

His Faythe. His Phoenix.

“I’m going to tear the head from your fucking neck,” he snarled, snapping feral eyes up to the wicked Spirit who watched his mate writhe in agony as if it were all a spectacle.

“You’re stronger than I thought,” Marvellas said. No emotion. Nothing. “To resist my influence with the ruin inside you. I have to admit, you continue to exceed my expectations.”

He would kill her. No—that was no longer enough for all she’d done to Faythe.

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