Page 115 of Between Life and Death

“I don’t know. She was not there when we arrived,” Arkyn said, glancing over his shoulder. My gaze followed, landing on Soren. He didn’t make eye contact with me, instead staring at the ground, his good hand rubbing his arm as if he were trying to comfort himself. Arkyn continued, “Like the fire, she was an illusion that Soren conjured. He got the image right but did a poor job of copying her mannerisms. It’s something he will have to work on.”

That was why she seemed off, unresponsive. I felt relieved. “So then . . . she is safe.”

“I would imagine so,” Arkyn answered. His gaze met mine once more before he lowered the torch to the kindling. As he lit the fire that would claim my life, he held my gaze. “Again, I am sorry for this, but it will be over soon.”

“Wait!” I screamed, fighting against the ropes, fighting for my life. I felt more animal than woman. I was desperate. Caged.

Horrified, I watched as the fire lapped up the kindling, watched as it slowly chewed its way closer to me, as if it were an old lover of mine. Inch by inch, the flames grew, the heat increasing, my frantic, erratic state growing the closer it got.

When the fire reached my feet, when I felt that scalding-hot flame bury itself into my flesh, I tipped my head back and screamed—the same hair-raising sound I had heard repeated in my nightmares, now brought to life.

I wasn’t ready to die. Not here. Not like this.

I screamed again, but this time my mouth formed a single word.

A name—Von—I called forhim.

My arm tingled, the vine cast in a dull, pulsing glow. The sounds of the horrific crackling fire were replaced by a high-pitched ringing. The market, the village, all of it began to dissolve like bits of ash scattered on the wind, and in its place, a darkness grew, stretching and yawning before me, until there was only one thing I could see . . .

Massive, endlessly black wings kissed with star dust.

They spanned before me, their expanse encumbering my vision. I could not look away, not even with the flames at my feet. My eyes struggled to understand what I was seeing. I wanted to reach out, to touch them, to feel, as if that would help me process—real or not real? Those sleek, mesmerizing wings tucked in, the movement so simple, yet so incredibly . . .

Breathtaking.

And even though the wings were not familiar, the feathers were—they were the same feathers that came to me every once in a while, came to me in my hour of need.

All this time.

It had been him.

My dark guardian angel. Von.

Obsidian eyes met mine—a distinguishable anguish written clearly in their setting. Horrified and tortured and angry—the anger so visceral, so raw, it would bring an army to its knees, cause mountains to crumble . . . bring tears to my eyes.

Seeing Von like this would strike fear in another’s heart—but it hurt mine.

I tracked those devastating eyes, framed by his thick black lashes, watching them drop to my feet—blistered and bloody and marred. His expression turned murderous.

The flames winked out—the supply of air they needed to burn severed, choked off. The heat of the flame was gone, and not even the charred wood beneath dared to smolder. My feet were healed, instantly made whole. The nerve endings destroyed by the fire came back to life, but I felt no pain. His gaze shifted to my bonds, and the ropes that bound me to the pyre dissolved, their existence erased. Even the markings stamped into my flesh were gone.

His eyes returned to mine, that invisible tether between us strung too tight.

That magnetic pull, it was unbreakable, unyielding. Eternal.

And it demanded that we collide.

He cupped my face tenderly as he brought his forehead against mine. I could feel him breathing me in, as if I were his air—the very thing he needed to survive.

You found me,my heart sang.

As I promised you I would.

I heard his reply, the words unspoken, yet so incredibly clear.

Something in me shattered, like a glass wall coming down.

That was when I knew.

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