Page 155 of Never Kiss a Fae
“To the Earth Fae.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, giving me a nudge to move forward again. “One trip to the death fields won’t hurt you, Claire. You just have to remember to tune them all out, and don’t believe anything you hear.”
I took several steps before a thought struck me so hard in the chest I stumbled again. “You think Mortus has been keeping Exos here?” The words came out on a gasp, Cyrus’s grip on my hip the only thing keeping me upright.
He gazed down at me with a tired expression, one that bespoke of his own fears—ones he’d clearly been hiding even from himself.
“You tried to find him last night,” I realized out loud, reading the true exhaustion and knowledge in his gaze, felt it creeping along our bond as he fought futilely to hold it back. “You couldn’t sense him above the chaos of the voices.”
He didn’t reply because he didn’t have to. I sensed everything I needed to through our fresh link—the guilt, the exasperation, the utter notion of failure, and the most important one of all, regret.
“You don’t want me to have to do this.” It was right there at the forefront of his thoughts, the hatred at what he needed to do, but his loyalty to Exos outweighed his regard for me. And it was something I had to respect, to understand, and I did. “You’re doing the right thing, Cyrus.”
“Am I?” he asked, cupping my cheek. “Was binding us the right thing?”
It provided me with fresh insight into his decisions, helped me respect some of his choices even if I didn’t agree with them. “I guess we’ll find out,” I said, placing my hand over his. “Take me into the death fields, Cyrus. I’ll let you know what I sense.”
He dipped his head to whisper his lips over mine. “Thank you, Claire.”
A tenuous agreement formed between us, one founded in a like-minded goal—to find Exos.
As we walked, I wondered if this openness between our minds was normal, because I hadn’t felt that way with Titus during our first stage. Same with Exos. But I could read Cyrus clear as day, and he’d made it obvious he could access me just as easily.
“It’s not,” he admitted, again hearing my thoughts, or perhaps openly assessing them. “But water is a fluid element; it’s clear and concise and always consistent. It makes sense that our bond would resemble those qualities.”
I could understand that—the purity and clarity of water thriving between us.
It was the complete opposite of the opaqueness at the end of this path, standing maybe ten feet away. I gulped at the sight of it, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Power lurked beyond that threshold.
Not the good kind, but the bad. I could feel the inky quality rubbing along my skin, giving me the sensation of wrongness and urging me to turn around.
Something isn’t right here, I thought to myself. But still I kept moving, my need to see if I could even pick up a trace of Exos forcing me onward. Because if he resided in this field, it was a wonder he still breathed.
“He’s strong,” Cyrus whispered. “He always has been. But if he pushed you out, it was for a reason.”
“And you suspect this is why.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you follow Mortus to?” I asked, needing to focus, to ground myself. Because already I could feel my soul being twisted as if invisible hands had entered my being to stroke me from within.
And we weren’t even inside yet.
“I’ll show you,” Cyrus said, his touch falling away from my back, to my arm, and down to my palm, where he linked our fingers. “Don’t let go of me, Claire.”
“I won’t.” I squeezed his hand for emphasis and allowed him to lead me over the threshold. Moss instantly encased my feet, sliding over my shoes and up my socks. Yet when I looked down, I saw nothing but gravel.
Strange.
Cyrus continued moving, and I struggled alongside him, my ears clouding with a buzzing energy that hummed inside my mind.
Not words, no.
Just a constant sizzling that left me squinting into the foggy chasm. I blinked to clear it, but that didn’t help. All I saw were writhing creatures, smoke and brimstone, and a darkness that threatened to swallow me whole.
I tried to ask Cyrus to explain but found myself alone, his hand no longer in mine.
