Page 161 of Bitten & Burned
A long, quiet moment.
Then, “You stink.”
He leaned close—nose almost brushing Rellin’s cheek. “Rotten blood. Feral nerves. Ashborne cowardice.”
Anton bared his fangs—not just a flash, but a slow drag of canines against his lower lip.
“You want me to bite you, don’t you?” he whispered. “You think death will be faster if I do.”
Rellin whimpered, shaking his head.
“You’d like that. To be worth the hunger. To matter. Even as food.” Anton tilted his head, studying him like Rellin was a bad cut of meat. “But I don’t want your blood. It smells like filth and fear. Like mold on a corpse. Yes, I believe you smell more dead than I do, you filthy waste of space.”
He grabbed Rellin by the throat again, tightening just enough to make him wheeze.
“I could drink you anyway,” he murmured. “Not for the nourishment. Not even for the kill. Just to feel you suffer. To hear you scream through a crushed windpipe while your life force drains from you, into me. And I’d use it to kill more of you.”
Rellin choked. Kicked. Sobbed.
“But you’re not even worth the taste,” Anton said. And that was the real cruelty—spoken like a verdict, sharp as a blade. “You’re beneath consumption. You’re a pile ofrefuse.”
He began to lift him. Just like the other one.
But he might know something.
“ANTON!” I shouted. “Anton—stop. I want him dead too—but not yet. Vael needs to talk to him.”
That seemed to cut through.
Anton paused.
Then—with a disgusted flick of his wrist—he dropped Rellin like he was nothing. The man crumpled to the floor, twitching and sobbing in relief.
Anton turned and came for me, expression blank, hands trembling with adrenaline as he scooped me up. Not looking back. Not saying another word—save one, which he spat like a warning shot, “Dmitri.”
Dmitri appeared instantly. Saw the blood. Saw Rellin. Didn’t hesitate.
He hauled him off like a bag of garbage while Anton carried me back into the firelight.
He held me close, brought my hands to his lips, and kissed them. He frowned as he looked at my bloody fingertips. “You were clawing at the floor…”
“I was trying to get away, and then…oh gods…” I craned my neck, looking into the room. “FIG!Fig, where is he?FIG! Someone please… they threw him… against the?—”
“Rowena...” It was Quil. He was… quiet.
I didn’t want to look, but I knew I had to.
Fig’s tiny body, cradled in Quil’s arms. Still. Deadly still.
“No…” I sobbed as I reached for him, wrenching myself from Anton’s arms. “Fig, I’m so sorry…” I sobbed as Quil deposited him, gently, in my arms. I fell to the ground, sobbing as I held him. He should have come back by now, right?
He should have come back.
I looked around, seeing the smoldering fireplace. I got to my feet, shrugged off Quil and Anton, and stumbled over to where the ashes were piled. I deposited him in the middle of the ashes. His little broken body. “Please…” I begged. “Please come back… Please Fig, I can’t… please baby come back…”
“Rowena?” Quil’s hand was on my shoulder. “ Rowena, sweetheart, come here…” I went. I let him hold me, I buried my face in his shoulder, and sobbed.
I felt like my heart was going to break. I couldn’t do this without him. I hadn’t been without him since I’d gotten him. Since my mother gave him to me. Gods, this couldn’t be?—
