Page 35 of Beast of Blood and Ash
I’d lost her.
The fact settled with the quiet, grinding finality of a tomb sealing shut. After every broken vow, every bloody mile, I’d lost her anyway. I sat hunched in the cold hollow of my quarters, my back braced against the wall.
The air was thick with the stink of my own failure. Above, a heat crystal sputtered a sickly yellow light, its glow too weak to push the darkness from the corners of the room. Ignarath’s shadow circled closer with every passing hour, a storm on the horizon with its claws already outstretched for my throat.
She was gone. I hadn’t been enough.
The truth was a crushing weight. All the rage I’d carried from the desert, every righteous snarl, had only left me caged here. I was alone except for the ghost of her scent on the air. The mate-bond burned in my chest, a hot, twisting ache that stole my breath, but it didn’t matter.
If she didn’t want me, didn’t want this, then no bond could force her to stay.
But that didn’t mean I would stop protecting her. It only took a moment to send a runner to Vyne with the details, stripped ofall pleading. If I knew her—and despite it all, I thought I did—she would go to the river.
Vyne knew the city’s veins, and he was mated to Selene, the only healer I trusted with Reika’s soul. If anyone could help her, it was them.
If anyone deserved to, it wasn’t me.
I forced myself to my feet. Every muscle coiled tight with the urge to destroy something, to rend stone and flesh until this poison of helplessness had somewhere to go. But there was nowhere left to spend it. The beast I’d kept caged for so long stirred under my ribs, ready to strike anything that came too close. Except there was nothing left worth striking.
Just the silence.
Hours of silence. Pacing. And something I refused to call fear.
I wasn’t going to see her again.
Except she was there. Standing in the rough-hewn arch of my doorway like vengeance made flesh.
The door scraped open, and she slipped inside. She wasn't small. She wasn't cowering. The air in the room changed, growing heavy and charged, every shadow holding its breath. She crossed her arms, a challenge carved from stone and unshakable will, the kind of force that survives a hell like Ignarath and every torment that comes after.
I was a statue frozen by pain. I didn't dare speak, didn't dare move. The bond between us snapped inside me, a visceral tug that seized my heart and groin, a thrum that followed the defiant line of her body. It was more wound than gift. Painful. Hungry.
With a low groan, the door shut behind her. My entire world shrank to her silhouette against the gloom. The space between us vibrated with unspoken things. My heart hammered in my ribs, my scales prickling with every breath she took.
She took a step deeper into the room. I watched the tension in her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip of her hands on her arms, the hard set of her jaw.
Fragile control hung over her like a thread stretched to its breaking point. Her eyes, wide and dark and bruised with exhaustion, found mine and held me pinned. I knew that look. It was a challenge. And it was a plea.
“Those sweets …,” she started, her voice a low, scraped sound that was still somehow steady. She shook her head sharply, as if trying to dislodge something soft. Then she changed her question.
“What’s so special about me?”
It was a battering ram to my chest. How could I explain? How could I tell her about the bond, about the way her name burned on my tongue like a prayer that would only drive her away? If I told her the truth, would she run again? Run for good? My heart spasmed at the thought, a terrible kick of terror and hope.
She stared at me, waiting. The silence stretched until it was nearly painful.
“Answer me.” Her voice cut like a blade.
I had to give her something. Anything but the whole, unbearable truth.
“I saw you,” I forced out, the words tasting like ash. “Hundreds of people in the arena, but it was just you.”
Her mouth twisted. “You’re talking about Ignarath.”
It was the place that bound us. That haunted us.
“When your ship crashed, Skorai had his claws so deep in me I thought I’d never get out. I was his pet champion. The monster on his leash. And I accepted that.” My own confession was poison, admitting I’d survived by being cruel, by turning a blind eye. “Until I saw you. I couldn’tdoanything. If I’d shown you the tiniest scrap of favor, he would have used it to hurt you. Or worse, given you to me.”
Her eyes flashed. “So you just left me to suffer?”
