Page 32 of Wrath of the Fae

Gone.

Her back now arches in pain. No soft gasps escape those lips but screams that make my blood run cold. That makes what little heart I have, break into a million pieces. Gashes bloody her back. Her wonderous wings lie tattered on the floor. Blood pools around her.

She looks at me with such pain and anguish.

Her eyes bore into my shred of a soul, and seeing her suffer turns whatever remains of it to a shadow.

‘Reid…’ she cries. I cry. ‘I don’t want to die. Please… don’t let me die!’

Ithrowopenmyeyes with a jolt and take a sharp inhale. The dream lingers still. That sense of heartache and grief clings to me. Mind, body and soul.

Not mine. Not my pain.

But Reid’s.

A deep rumble sounds in the corner. I see Wolf propped up against the wall, fast asleep, as he leans on his gigantic hammer. His snores shake the room, making his thick beard tremble with each exhale. He’s covered in dried blood and bruises from the fight.

Beside me, Lucca is curled up on this large four-poster bed with black drapes that hang in tatters around us. His hand rests on my hip as he sleeps. Dried blood covers a large portion of his bruised and battered face, and he’s almost grey with exhaustion.

I smack him as hard as I can.

‘What?!’ he slurs, quickly looking around the room. ‘What’s happening? Where’s the threat?’

‘I’m the fucking threat!’ I snap, slapping and smacking him with all my strength. Which, to be fair, is pretty non-existent.

He throws his arms over his face and tries to protect himself as I hit and punch, snarling swear words and threats at the fucker.

‘What the hell did I do?’ he manages before falling off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud.

He’s up and flees to the other side of the room before I can get to him, and the bastard stands behind the now awake Wolf, who looks on in mild amusement.

‘You fucker!’ I hiss, tossing the only thing I can find at him. The pillow hits Wolf in the chest and falls silently to the floor.

‘What did I do?’ Lucca complains.

‘You swore to me. You fucking promised that if I started to fade, you would kill me!’

‘But you didn’t fade completely, did you?’ he tries, gesturing to my very corporeal and aching form. ‘See? You’re as whole as a woman can be.’

‘He’s got a point,’ Wolf mutters in agreement. ‘Good job he didn’t-’

‘I don’t care. I don’t FUCKING CARE!’ I scream, making my head pound even harder. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I lower my head and groan. ‘You promised me, Lucca. You swore I wouldn’t end up back in Ivan’s machine no matter what.’

The idea of going through that again.

I can’t…

‘I’m sorry,’ he offers.

‘Liar.’

He merely shrugs and grins at me from ear to ear.

Fucker.

I sit on the edge of the bed and lower my head. My right hand is still a mess of slashes that are healing. I wince as I feel them. The bandage around the wound is stiff with crusted blood, and my mouth is so dry I wonder how long I’ve been out.

‘About twenty hours,’ Lucca says. ‘You slept the whole time. It was good to see you sleep finally.’

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