Page 56 of Curse of Darkness
It’s thick enough in the air to choke me. A banked threat. A whispered malice. And the glitter in his eyes as he stares at the wyrm sends a shiver all the way through me….
Thiago slowly smiles as he plucks at the buttons on his wrist, and carefully rolls his sleeve back, like a gentleman preparing for a ball. “Would you care to dance again, Great Enryathan?”
“My territory,” the wyrm hisses. It bares its teeth, its forked tongue flickering between them.
Thiago’s face remains cold and expressionless. “My wife.”
The words ring through the silence.
They’re a claim.
But they sound… wrong.
“Mine,” he says again, this time softly. It’s no less dangerous. He takes another step closer, returning his attention to the wyrm. “You dared strike a blow against my wife?”
Enryathan writhes, fighting the urge to pounce upon me while I’m injured, but desperately wary of the threat slowly stalking him.
“It was mine!” he shrieks. “My tithe! They gave it me! As is my right! They make their sacrificesss every year!”
No wonder Kato had a little smirk on his face as I entered the gate.
That asshole.
Thiago spreads his wings.
They’re not wings.
They’re shadows, looming wide. The vial with its drop of sunlight casts light across everything here, but it’s as though the light can’t quite touch his face.
“She bears my psychic scent,” he croons, taking another step. “You could smell it on her. And yet, you still attacked.”
The wyrm twists this way and that, retreating mere feet. “No, Great One! No!”
“Yes….” Thiago lifts his hands, summoning the shadows from around us. They twist like ribbons, curling around his fingers like curious cats.
“No.” The wyrm cringes as it undulates backward. “No, my prince. I beg forgiveness. In my rage, in my hunger, I did not ssssense the truth. She smells like the mortal landsss. She smellsss like light and heat. She burned me! She ssstabbed me!”
Shadows crawl toward it, slinking up its carapace.
“So I see,” Thiago says as his shadows slip inside the bloody gash running down its throat.
He gives a sharp jerk with his hands and the shadows tear the wound open.
“Sstop!” the wyrm shrieks. “Stop! Pleassse! Mercy, my prince! Mercy!”
A gurgle erupts, inky blood spilling in great, weeping spurts.
I would have killed it myself, but I’m not sure I can stand to watch this. Not with it cringing and begging for mercy.
I grab Thiago’s boot. “Please. Don’t.”
Thiago stares at the creature as if doesn’t hear me. His lashes flicker down, shielding his eyes. And then he cocks his head. “Remember this moment, Enryathan. Remember my wife’s sense of mercy. Now, begone. Before I forget mine.”
And he finally, finally reaches a hand down toward me as the wyrm slithers in retreat.
The shadows stream back toward us, swirling around us in ribbons as he gently eases me to my feet. My ankle gives way and I collapse against him. My hands won’t stop running over his chest.Real.He’s real. Yet there’s a certain sense of coldness emanating. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it feels like some invisible layer stands between us. I can feel the pressure of his body. But I can’t feel the roughness of his cloak. Or the slick glide of his leather scaled body armor.
“You’re hurt.” A finger brushes against my lips. And healing magic sweeps through me.
