Page 55 of Fate & Monsters
A growl pulled from me, and I clenched my jaw to restrain myself. “Then you should have made sure to finish the job.”
He arched a pale red brow, blinking lazily. “Oh, I never make the same mistake twice over, beast. You can be sure of that if nothing else.”
“Neither do I.” The words burst from me like venom. “And I promised to be your death, didn’t I?”
His grin twitched, and his brows furrowed. Then his eyes found her and my heart rate spiked. The Crimson Mage’s gaze was assessing, keen, and covetous. The heat of it was visceral with rage, want, obsession.
I placed myself in his line of sight.
Astoria reached me, standing as unwavering as a pale flame, the only light in the realm that didn’t falter. I could feel her magic tightening beneath her skin—awakened, pulsing, defensive. She hadn’t spoken. Not yet. But she didn’t need to. Her presence was loud.
The man’s eyes turned to her again.
Longer this time.
I saw the moment his curiosity shifted. He took a step as if her presence drew him in the way gravity pulled flightless objects into an inevitable crash. Something malevolent passed through his expression.
“You smell like magic.” He stopped, observing her as one would a complicatedequation that they were soon to solve.
A deranged beast of savagery roared in my chest and battered my ribs. My fists clenched, and my jaw ached from gritting my teeth. Air whooshed as my tail thrashed behind me. I glanced down at Astoria, beholding her pale blue hair spilling over her shoulders, and the shimmery silk she wore. Her head was high and her eyes defiant, as if daring the mage to notice her. And her gaze burned when it met mine.
I would do anything to keep her.
“Why have you come here?” I addressed the mage. My chest was tight, heart hammering as he cut his eyes to Astoria. Then back to me when a growl thundered from my chest. “Are you so eager for death?”
The Crimson Mage took a step. Chest heaving, breathing hard as if he was exerting himself, nearly salivating from the look of it. His eyes were wide and gleaming with a vulgar sense of ownership. “Do you know what she is?”
“Stay back. I’m warning you.” My fist curled around the sword at my hip.
He didn’t listen, inching closer as if magnetized. “Do you? Did you know when you were dying at my feet? Or did you think she was just a pretty little thing who’d fallen into your lap?”
I snarled, and the force of my rage quaked the ground beneath our feet. Several soldiers flinched, but the mage remained steadfast.
“An air spirit in a woman’s skin. How curious.” He stroked his chin, agrin slashing like a wound across his face. “You’ve hidden well, but there’s nowhere you could have gone to escape me. I have crossed oceans and worlds to find you. No power, no dimension, no realm so monstrous can keep you from me.”
Astoria flinched, barely. It was enough.
“Sylph.” He smiled like a peasant finding gold. Or a madman experiencing fleeting clarity. “The last of your kind. And I should know, I’ve spent ages butchering elementals and mythical creatures. I’ve scoured Earth in search of you. And there you are. Now you’re mine.”
“She isn’t yours,” I bellowed, voice low and threatening. “And she never was.”
The Crimson Mage’s face darkened. “You think I can’t take her from you?”
Time ceased to exist. We hovered in a held breath, balancing on the cusp of destruction. Silence stifled the land and the last vestiges of night shrouded Infernus. A pocket of simmering tension, boiling toward a culmination.
“You’ll die trying,” I replied.
The man’s expression hardened, and magic crackled like pressurized static on the wind. I drew my sword.
And chaos erupted.
Chapter 20
Mavros struck first.
The Crimson Mage met him with blade and magic. A storm thundered overhead, wind howling and the sky quaking with ominous clouds. Sword met sword, weapons clashed in a wail of magic and ringing iron. The wizard’s power swept over the land in a cloud of bleeding red.
Potent fear struck me. The next impact shattered me, cracked through the tender creature in my chest, and sent shards of ice through my veins. If I wasn’t frozen with frigid terror, I might have wept.
