Page 95 of Between Soul and Vessel
His top lip curled back, and he bared his teeth at me, a deep, low growl emitting from his throat.
Swiftly, he cut it off, shaking his head as if he were trying to free himself of whatever demon had possessed him. Lids sprung open, his black eyes flaring wide. Then his arms fell down to his sides, like they’d lost all of their strength, and he dropped Artemesia as if she were a scalding-hot potato.
She landed with a heavythud.
I rushed to her, kneeling beside her. I glared at Folkoln, my mouth about to form a word, but she beat me to it—
“Asshole!” she moaned as she rolled over onto her side, curling into herself.
“What the fuck?” Folkoln snarled in shock as he looked at his hands. His face shifted to my scowling one then to Artemesia’s pained one. As ifhewereafraid of her, he took a step back. Then another. “I’m going to help Von.” His wings flared out behind him, and in a blur of smoke, he was gone.
My sister groaned. “What iswrongwith him?”
“Many things,” I said honestly. On a good day,Folkoln’s actions were strange, but like Von, there was always an angle to what he did. Typically, it was so he could feed off emotions. That’s what I had suspected he was doing. But then when he snapped his teeth at me like a predator guarding its meal . . .
I knewthatlook.
It was the exact same one Von had given me hundreds of times before. Particularly when I tried to squirm away from hisrelentlesstongue, my mind gone squirrely from too many orgasms. Like he hadn’t drank his fill. Like he hadn’t had enough of me.
It was possessive, protective.Primal.
It was . . . the bond.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” Artemesia panted, blue eyes shifting to mine.
“I’ll tell you later,” I sighed, turning my attention to her arm. I held out my hand. “Let me see.”
Artemesia complied, and I inspected the wound. It was a clean, deep puncture, the surrounding tissue swollen and covered in blood. “How do things like this work with you and Vatara?”
“When she heals, my arm will too,” Artemesia answered.
“How long will that take?” I asked, releasing her arm.
“As long as the arrows were not dipped in dragon’s blood powder, it shouldn’t be very long. Vatara heals rather swiftly.”
The space between my eyebrows crinkled. “Dragon’s blood powder?”
She gave a small nod. “Dragons were wiped out during the War of the Creators. The empress had their carcasses taken to Avolonia, in hopes of recreating the species, but to this day, she has been unsuccessful, a failure some have taken notice of. Anyway, she had her stygian forgemasters harvest what they could from the mythical creatures—scales, bones, teeth, claws, organs. Everything. While experimenting, they discovered when dragon blood was left to dry, not only did the consistency change, but its abilities were altered too. The blood that kept the immortal creatures alive, when dried and ground into powder, became lethal.”
“How so?” I questioned softly, watching as Vatara came over to us. She laid down and placed her head on the ground beside Artemesia, setting her worried eyes on her.
Artemesia took a breath, wincing. “It cuts off immortality and prevents healing. Ultimately, making the vessel die.” Artemesia held up her arm, eyeing her injury. It looked smaller than before. It was healing, which meant—
“No dragon’s blood powder,” Artemesia sighed in relief, dropping her head back on the ground. With her good arm, she reached up to rub Vatara’s head.
“If the empress had the carcasses of the dragons taken to Avolonia, what became of their souls?” I wondered.
“In truth, nobody seems to know, although nearly everyone has a theory. Some think the emperor cast them into the other realms, sending them away with everyone else, while others believe the empress collected them and has them all hidden somewhere.” Her eyes shifted skyward as she continued to pet Vatara. “I think they returned upthere, becoming one with the stars once more, from which they were taken.”
Head shifting, I followed her gaze.
Like the river searching for the ocean, I looked for Von.
My breath faltered.
Four warriors surrounded him, reminding me of the recent memory I had recovered of him in the arena. He still moved with that same precise skill, every swing intentionally placed, never missing his mark.
