Page 123 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
It only took a blink for the darkness to abate, for Emrys’s strong hands to suddenly be there. Hauling me behind him. Those dark-tipped fingers curling into my jacket, as if to comfort himself I was all there. His deadly gaze fixed on my throat, making my trembling fingers move to it, but there was no blood. No cut.
‘A Blackthorn making a mess. I can’t say I’m surprised,’ came a smug voice. I was unable to see anything but Emrys’s broad chest, blocking my view of the speaker.
I pushed up on my toes, glancing over his shoulder to find ourselves surrounded.
More guards and, standing in front of them, was a water nymph. An imposing, striking creature. All sharp angles and deadly handsomeness. That impossible inky blue hair, dark eyes and iridescent skin designed to drag foolish maidens to the depths.
Then I saw the emblem pin at the lapel of his own tight-fitting black fighting leathers. The fist and dagger.
The rebellion.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alma
What a vicious little beast.
That voice. So lyrical and soft. How those blood-stained nails bit into my skin. So cold. A strange deadness to those crimson eyes.
No. I shook the memory away.
My claws dug into the bark of the tree before me. Wishing it was flesh. My chest too tight, no matter how deeply I tried to suck in breath. Greedy for it. My lungs were too small and tight, but as I opened my eyes – I hadn’t shifted.
Crouched in the wood, perfectly concealed in a strip of shadow the trees offered. Yet, I felt so small. So strange and weak.
That insignia. The rebellion was here. The shock of it had made me pause, made me shift and tumble to the earth. Barely having a moment to catch myself before I landed in the dirt.
The aches and scratches didn’t matter.
The rebellion. They were here and Kat was down there. Yet I couldn’t move. Could only bury my claws deeper into the tree, cold sweat sliding down my back.
Move. Help. Do something, little rat.
Only I remained still. Stuck within my fear. It churned wildly in my gut until I vomited between my bare feet once more.
‘Fuck,’ I hissed. Dragging my hand across my mouth, a repulsed shudder moving through me at the vile taste left behind. The bloody chunks in the leaves before me.
I didn’t mean to bite them, but the bastards wouldn’t stay still. Eating in one of my forms never ended well, especially not something so … fresh. In my anger I forgot myself. Listening to the cries of those fey. Smelling fear.
It fuelled a part of me I wished never to remember. A twisting form of nothing but darkness and claws. Endless. Uncaring who it consumed.
I shuddered again, trying to pant through the next wave of nausea. Flying always took too much energy. Especially in a form so big. The rage of my beasts had taken over, pushing my limits too soon after the verium.
Now they were so quiet, faltering with my fear. I should have raced down the hill, should have helped Kat. Yet, I hid – vomiting up all my guilt.
I just needed a moment. Needed to focus, and then I could think. The brambles dug into my bare feet, making me growl as another shiver moved down my spine. Fur rippling across my forearms to try and stave away the chill. Breath clouding before me from the winter air.
‘Little nightmare,’ came the soft taunt on the wind. Turning me so fast I almost fell amongst the soggy leaves. Only for this whole episode to get worse as my gaze met the troublesome amber of the voyav, where they leant against a door frame – a cottage – just beyond the trees I’d chosen as my hiding place. The residents were clearly gone. Warm light painting a path through the thicket.
There was something distracting in the sharpness of Thean Page’s gaze, in that amber as the light from the doorway made it glow. That cloak slung over their arm as they waited. Waiting for me.
I should have hissed. Changed and fled. Only my panic didn’t dissipate. Nor the ghostly taunt of the voice I wished to forget.What a vicious little beast.
I didn’t feel vicious. I was tired, sad and scared. Reminding me too much of the girl I’d never be again.
I rose against my better judgement. Unable to wallow any longer. Repulsed by the stench of my own fear. Unbothered by my nakedness before them, knowing they wouldn’t look.
‘Why are the rebellion here?’ I demanded, irritated I needed any help at all as I kept my arm across my breasts.
