Page 168 of Wings of Lies
He panned from the pet to my shadows. “What the hell happened to him, and where is Lucy?” he demanded, emeralds turning to green fire.
“The female is in my arms, Nephilim. Consider your deal complete. He has requested your return.”
His reaching hand paused. Lucky for him. “You work for that male?”
“I’m his general. I’ve come to collect you. We—” The female whimpered in my arms. My shadows swarmed toward her cuts, absorbing her blood. I didn’t command them to; they just did it. But my surprise was short-lived. In our cloud of darkness, red seeped out of her nose, and pain creased her eyes, pink tears squeezing through her closed lids.
“What the hell are you doing to her?” The Nephilim took a step forward. My shadows whipped out in threat while still covering us.
“Nothing.” Yet. As she writhed in my arms in agony, bleeding from her nose, eyes, and limbs, I made a decision. If he ever found out, I’d most likely be a dead male, but if I didn’t… I’d probably still be a dead male.
This was the only way if he wanted her to live.
Pushing the rest of my doubts away, I brought my shadows to my mouth, tasting the blood they absorbed. Straight sunshine and sin tingled my tongue, weakening my knees. I’d never tasted anything like her. The addictive spice that lingered at the back of my throat spoke of power.
What the hell was she?The tangy, warm sunshine flavor I knew, but the rest?—
She convulsed harder, taking me out of my thoughts of her blood. Instantly, I dove into her mind, berating myself for getting distracted. I never got distracted.
The moment I entered her mind, I knew two things.
One, they lied to me. And two, she was seconds away from death.
Her mind felt like the heat of a thousand suns. If her body became any hotter, no matter what kind of power she had, she’d die.
I sent a shot of shadows into her brain, using them to nullify some of her pain receptors and bring down her internal temperature, hoping that’d help long enough to get her to a healer.
“Hey! I’m speaking to you, Shadow-boy!” the Nephilim yelled.
“What!” I snapped. We needed to move.
“What are we going to do about the prince and…?” He pointed at Saraqael.
I wished I could taste his blood and tear his mind apart before I ran a blade across his neck, removing one more pet from her arsenal. But the female in my arms was my top priority. The king would want me to save her before killing him.
“He gets to live another day. Lucky him.” I moved, then snapped. “Grab Saraqael.”
“Hey, where are you going? She’s unconscious! What makes you think I can pick her up? Wait!”
I didn’t wait.
My nerves were tickling the fabric of reality near my wings. They itched to pop back into existence. I signaled to Rune, waiting for her bounding black form. She came a minute later, running at a full sprint.
A flash of silver flew by my head. I couldn’t stop the dagger; my hands were full, and my shadows were busy protecting the female in my arms. Not that a little dagger would do much damage to a hound nearly the size of a horse. Rune snapped her head to the side, grabbing the dagger before it hit her.
“That’s your ride,” I growled back at the Nephilim, happy to see he brought up Saraqael. “Don’t hurt my hound, or I’ll let her devour you.”
“You own a Hellhound?” the Nephilim panted, sounding both intrigued and hesitant.
“She’s a Soulhound.” I dropped my shadows and brought forth my wings.
“They’re extinct…” he trailed off, eyeing my wings like he eyed my hound. Then, he caught sight of the female. “Holy shit. Is she going to live?”
“I don’t know,” I said, really hating that answer, feeling a seed of fear. She had to survive. The king needed her. The Nephilim needed her to survive his Ligamen Rune. And now… I needed her, too, which surprised me most of all.
They fucking lied to me.
“Get on the Soulhound. She’ll take you to the gates. We don’t have long before they close. Hold on tight, and don’t you dare let Saraqael fall.”
