Page 63 of Wings of Lies
“Cambion…” I trailed off, my mind going a mile a minute. It wasn’t a stretch to think those two hulking beasts were demons, but I never thought—I shook my head—no wonder the Hellhounds wouldn’t approach them. Fighting the demons was tantamount to suicide.
“You didn’t know,” he laughed with disbelief. “What do you know about Elora?”
Glaring, I bit into my cheeks. There was such arrogance in his tone, like he knew what my answer would be and couldn’t wait to rub it in my face. If he continued like this, I’d either end up chewing through my flesh, gagging him myself, or worse, I’d dissolve this quilt.
But he was right, and that had me tasting copper.
I was brought to a world I knew barely anything about, with someone I just met, all because some voice in my head told me to.
And look where I was now.
I would not answer his question. Giving him that satisfaction would end me, even though my silence would condemn me.
Aspen grunted, looking at me with disbelief. “Your ignorance is going to get you killed.” His words were salt in an open wound.
“Excuse me?” My nostrils flared.
His next grunt nearly tripped the strings of the melody that lurked beneath my rage.
“Who in their right mind would come to a world they know nothing about?” he seethed, the muscle in the back of his jaw throbbing.
“Why does what I do or don’t know even matter to you?” I spat back, feeling itchy.
He stepped forward, knees hitting the bed’s wooden frame, towering over me. My back straightened in response, trying to look strong and not wounded and slumped against the pillows. But I could only do so much as my stitches pulled with my movements.
“What the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you stay on Earth? Elora is dangerous! It isn’t a place for a senseless, wimpy female.” There was so much angry disbelief in his tone that I bristled.
Stretching further against my stitches, wishing I could stand, I attempted to look intimidating. “I amnotsenseless or wimpy!”
“Your actions speak otherwise.” He glared.
My anger simmered. I lifted my chin, forcing us nose-to-nose. “If you bring me to your wretched queen, I will gladly burn her face off.”
Blue flame flashed in his irises, and the light under his chin flickered. A half-smirk pulled at my lips, happy to have hit a nerve.
“Listen to you,” he whispered with a deadly tone. “Spewing this arrogance around creatures you know nothing about. You don’t even have the skills necessary to save yourself, which you proved by barely surviving a Hellhound attack. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me and my queen. You know nothing of this world. You know nothing of your powers. You are an ignorant, untrained, senseless, helpless female.” The force of his heartless words hit my face. They were brutal, needling at my insecurities.
I pulled my legs off the bed, making myself sit up and forcing him back a step. Water pooled in the corner of my eyes from the pain, but I wasn’t about to let him get away with what he said. It hit too deep, and the itch wouldn’t let me.
“At least I’m not a bitch’s bitch.”
Blue and red light erupted, and metal ripped free. A flaming sword came toward my neck, but before it reached me, stabbing pain erupted through my body, and the sword clattered to the ground. He came at me.
“What are you?—”
He tackled and swaddled me in his heavy cloak. Unlike my disintegrated clothes, the cloak withstood the white and purple flames on my skin.
“Get off of me!” I yanked the cloak off my flameless face.
“Hana did a lot for you. The least you could do is not burn down her house,” he yelled back. This considerate act wasn’t for me but for Hana. And based on the indignation that replaced the flames in his eyes, he hated that he had to help me.
No longer wanting to meet his gaze, I glared at the hands that touched me. Too bad I couldn’t burn things with my eyes. Maybe then he’d let me go. Not that the leather on his arms needed any more holes or tears. The Hellhounds had scored gouges into his uniform, and when I tilted my head just right, light gleamed on blood beneath the shredded folds. The wounds were shiny slivers, almost healed. He acted and fought against the Hellhounds, and I just hid like an untrained, senseless, helpless female.
The words were like a poison, repeating an endless cycle in my mind. Only the more I heard it, the less it sounded like the mocking tone of my princely jailor. There was someone else who used to call me a helpless little wimp, but I couldn’t remember who.
Shame and anger colored my face, fueling my flame. The cloak had a threshold of how much power it could withstand as a shimmer of dark violet leaked through the seams. The white slowly dimmed along with my fear. But calming the rage wasn’t working with Aspen’sswaddling. It practically proved his point. His seething gaze only made it worse.
“Leave,” I said, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.
