Page 126 of A Flame of the Phoenix

That set them on a road of mutual perception.

“Then don’t try to stop me.”

“What will the ruin help you achieve?”

Izaiah smiled, musing to himself, “A greater form than a mouse, I assure you.”

Tynan circled around the box, coming closer. “No one but Zaiana has been able to wield that thing. I’ve watched many die trying, and I can’t—” Tynan stopped himself, both in speech and in his steps, less than an arm’s reach away.

Izaiah said carefully, “Only you can stop your feelings. It’s only going to hurt you in the end.”

“Then don’t let there be an end.”

“I know the risk I’m taking.”

Izaiah’s jaw tightened when Tynan reached for his nape, drawing them closer but keeping their stares tangled.

“Then I’m taking it with you.”

“I don’t need you here.”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’twantyou?—”

Tynan crushed his lips to his, and Izaiah became torn by anger over the dark fae’s stubbornness and a passion that had begun to grow deeper roots beyond thoughts of lust. He had to stop them, but it felt as futile as commanding the darkest clouds not to break their rain or the brightest sun not to cast its rays. Izaiah’s resistance now was only in an attempt to spare Tynan. To keep his feelings whole and wrapped precious for someone more deserving when he was gone. After the life the dark fae had lived—believing, like Zaiana, they had no hearts to give feelings to—at least Izaiah could leave this world with the fulfillment to have proven that wrong.

So fast, they became a furious collision of shattered resistance. Izaiah didn’t know when they’d moved, but pinning Tynan to the wall allowed his body to press into his, reliving some of the tension to be impossibly closer. Before he knew what he was doing, he was helping Tynan out of his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head, not knowing how since they barely paused for breath.

To the Nether with it all. If that was to be his destination, by the ruin or in some other scar of this war, then why not give in to lustful—maybe even romantic—notions for a while?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Faythe

Faythe awoke with ice growing under her skin, slicked as though she’d walked through fire. Her body felt ripped apart by two contrasting forces.

Opening her eyes, her vision came and went in blurry images. Her head pounded, and when she cracked her lips apart, her mouth was bone-dry.

Against all that wanted to remain drowning with her sinking anchor of pain, Faythe found the will to angle her arms and push herself up. A weight slipped off her shoulders as she did, and with it, the scent of her true home hit her all at once.

Reylan.

Faythe’s eyes filled as she sat back and pulled the cloak over herself again. Burying her nose into the fabric, a sharp sob escaped her.

For a moment, he’d broken through Marvellas’s influence. He’d tried to reach her…hadn’t he? She couldn’t be sure if she’d imagined that in the delusion of her agony.

Faythe shivered violently and couldn’t steady her breathing. There wasn’t enough air. Her hand caught her against the cot when a sway of dizziness washed over her. Pain exploded up her arm with the slightest pressure, and she fell, hitting her head against the wooden edge.

There was no end to her misery.

She couldn’t move for what dragged like hours. Recalling the Magestone forced into her body, Faythe couldn’t control the tremors racking through her. When she found the will to move, she dragged fearful eyes to the nasty wounds slashed down her forearms. Her skin had blackened around where the Magestone was submerged under her skin.

“Looks like you’re in a serious predicament.”

She wasn’t aware of company until a silvery male voice jolted through her.

Faythe pushed up on her cot, finding a fae sitting on one across from her in the cell attached to hers, separated by thick iron bars. What stopped time for a beat and washed her skin cold…were the familiar golden eyes piercing into her own.

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