Page 112 of This Vicious Dream

Pain explodes through my scalp. The bastard has my hair in his fist. He drags me to my knees, and blood rushes into my ears, terror searing my chest and exploding through my limbs.

The flash of a blade. I suck in a breath and aim my flames at the bare skin along his arms and face.

Haldrik screams, releasing me instantly. His ward reappears, and he slams his fist into my face. Stars spill across my vision and I slump forward.

Gods, it hurts.

“I thought I would regret this,” Haldrik pants, shoving me onto my back. My head spins, my face on fire. Those huge fucking fists…he didn’t just inherit that shiny ward, and his insidious power. He inherited fae strength too. A strength he must have kept carefully hidden on the ship, or I would have heard about it.

I kick out again, but Haldrik shoves my feet aside, straddling me as his hands wrap around my throat and squeeze. He leans close, avidly watching as I buck and claw at his hands.

No. Not like this.

I writhe, lungs screaming.

My hand grasps blindly at the ground for something…for anything. My fingers find cool stone.

The rock is heavy in my hand. But I smash it into his face.

CRACK.

Blood spurts, and I rear up, as Haldrik cups his nose.

If he hadn’t been leaning so close, it wouldn’t have worked. But he was enjoying watching me fight for my life.

This man I trusted. This man I thought was a friend. This man who sold all of us out.

I slam the rock toward his head again, but his hand slashes out, knocking it from my grip. The move makes him unbalanced, and I kick out, knocking him off me.

Blood pours from his nose, and when he snarls, his teeth are painted with it. I twist, crawling toward my knife. This time, when Haldrik grabs my hair, I’m ready.

I shove my blade deep into his gut, watching as his eyes widen, realization sliding over his face.

“Die, you bastard.”

I push the blade deeper, twisting. And then I pour my flames into him, the darkest part of me reveling in his screams.

I stumble to my feet, pulling my flames from his body. It was a quicker death than he deserved. And yet the scent of burned flesh crawls up my nostrils.

Turning, I retch, heaving. When I stumble toward my waterskin, I’m trembling. Sobbing.

The water is cool, and I pour it over my face, still unable to look at the corpse behind me.

“Madinia.” The voice is feminine, shocked, and filled with compassion.

The world stops. My knees turn weak.

I know that voice.

Slowly, I turn.

Am I…dreaming?

No. That’s Asinia walking toward me, her face freckled from the sun, her hair swept back in a braid. Demos is at her side, his amber eyes almost glowing against his tanned skin. Those eyes narrow, and he gives me that same familiar, vaguely impatient look.

Rythos steps through the trees behind them. His pointed ear is pierced, and the gold ring suits him. One eyebrow arches as he takes in Haldrik, his expression turing approving. “Somehow, I’m not surprised to find you in the aftermath of murder.” He grins, his white teeth stark against his dark skin.

My knees straighten. My vision sharpens.

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