The male was slower on foot than he was though, so Fuery caught up with him whenever he teleported, easily closing the distance between them again.
He had taken to sprinting after his last teleport, covering ground at speed that was probably impressive for him, but felt like a jog to Fuery. The male had led a soft life if he couldn’t sprint at a speed even the most junior members of the army could manage.
Fuery spotted trees ahead, flanking a hill, and mountains beyond them. It looked like the border with the First Realm of the demons, but might be the one that skirted the Second Realm. Whichever one it was, it was too close to demons for Fuery’s liking and no place for his mate.
The First and Second Realms had been peaceful for centuries, but demons were demons, and Fuery didn’t trust any of them.
They craved war, hungered for violence and bloodshed nearly as fiercely as he did.
With that thought, the darkness pushed inside him, running through his veins like a black tide to fill his mind with pleasing images of diverting course and attacking Eirwyn. He grunted and gritted his teeth as he fought back against that need, telling himself on repeat that he needed Eirwyn alive to lead him to Shaia.
Then he would kill him.
Once she was safe.
He hit the trees and sprinted into them, steps silent as he leaped fallen branches and twisted around broad trunks, his eyes never straying from his prey.
Eirwyn began to slow.
Either he was tiring, or they were nearing the meeting point.
Fuery slowed too, easing into a casual jog as he breathed in a controlled manner to bring his heartrate back down, a contrast to the puffing and panting male out in the field to his left.
The distance between them was narrow enough that Fuery could see him clearly in the dim light, but far enough that the male wouldn’t sense him.
Was utterly unaware of the wraith that shadowed his every step.
He grinned and licked his fangs as the darkness inside him purred in approval of that thought and the fact he was enjoying stalking the hapless bastard and would soon be claiming his head.
And his heart.
His fingers twitched, sharp black claws itching to sink deep into his chest and rip that still-beating organ from his chest.
Gods.
He wanted that.
Hungered for it.
Even the part of him Shaia had brought back to life, a softer part he had expected to put up some sort of fight against the idea, wanted it. Craved it.
The male had dared to take his ki’ara from him.
The male would pay.
In blood.
Eirwyn began to walk.
Fuery looked ahead of them.
The trees obscured his vision, and it was difficult to make anything out in the pre-dawn light, but he was sure something was there.
A tiny flicker of gold.
He squinted and focused harder as he moved closer to the edge of the trees, removing them from his field of vision.
A fire.
As he focused on it, he saw the shadow of a building.
Fuery kicked off, running towards it, his every instinct driving him to reach it before Eirwyn and take back his mate. He needed to see her, had to know she was unharmed and safe, and take her away from this hellish place before anything could happen to her.
Needed it.
Needed her.
The scent of blood hit him.
Distant. Elf.
His knees almost gave out. He stumbled but remained upright, cold rushing through his blood as he struggled to focus through the roar in his head that demanded he reach Shaia now.
Her fear flooded the link, together with pain that crippled him, scraped out his insides and left him raw.
Shaia.
He focused as Loren had taught him, trying to picture Shaia so he could see where she was and teleport straight to her, but again nothing happened.
He still hadn’t regained his strength. He was lucky he had managed to teleport so many times in the last day. His powers were becoming more reliable, but he had a long way to go before he could depend on them.
He bit out every curse he knew as he pushed forwards, running towards the ancient fortress as quickly as he could manage.
His senses reached outwards even as they delved inwards, connecting him to Shaia on all levels as he closed the distance between them. She was afraid. Hurting. Not just emotionally. There was physical pain there too, wounds that began to burn on his own arms and torso as he growled and strengthened the connection between them, wanting her to feel that he was coming.
He was coming for her.
The walls of the fortress loomed ahead of him and he sprinted up a fallen section of it, leaping from huge stone to stone.
As he reached the top of it, his eyes leaped straight to Shaia.
A male closed in on her, his blade lunging towards her, and she stumbled backwards, brandishing the dagger he had given her in trembling hands, her violet eyes wide with the fear he could feel in her.
He roared and kicked off, heart hammering against his ribs and fear closing his throat as he willed himself to reach her in time.
Darkness swept over him.
He collided with Shaia, knocking her backwards, and growled as white-hot pain erupted in his right side.
Shaia’s beautiful eyes widened further, tears shining in them as she sat on the dirty ground and stared up at him, her face ashen and blood streaked over her cheek and chest.
His blood.
He slowly looked down at the point of the black blade sticking out of his side, punched clean through his armour. Blood rolled down to the tip and dripped to the earth, and formed a thick cascade down his thigh.
Fuery frowned.
Calmly took hold of the blade and pushed it back, not feeling the pain as it slid through his flesh, and not stopping when the tip disappeared back into his side. He pushed it deeper, sticking his fingers into the wound, hearing Shaia’s pained gasp and barely registering the way her hand flew to her own side as the pain he didn’t feel burned inside her.
The darkness devoured it in him.
Used it as fuel for the fire that blazed within him.
A black fire that consumed him.
He pulled his fingers free, reached behind him and gripped the blade again, easing it out of his flesh.
When it pulled free, he turned slowly to face the large male.
The elf’s eyes were on the blade and Fuery’s hand where he still gripped it, as wide as Shaia’s had been.
“Leave,” he ground out, and the male blinked, but Fuery wasn’t talking to him. He turned his head slightly to his left, so he could see Shaia in the corner of his vision as he kept his eyes on the male. “Leave!”
“No,” she said, such force behind that single word that it shook him.
He growled at her, cast the male’s sword away from him and shoved his free hand forwards, hitting the male in the centre of his chest with the flat of his palm and sending him sailing through the air.
Buying her time.
“Leave. Now.” He turned on a pinhead to face her and froze when he saw the fear in her eyes, written across every line of her beautiful face.
Her clothes were in tatters, her lean legs exposed and only flimsy dark undergarments covering her hips, and the bandages around her chest were covered in his blood, together with her torn grey tunic.
He gripped his side to stop the flow of blood and eased to his knees in front of her, softening his tone as he reached his other hand out to her and gently brushed her tangled hair from her dirty cheeks. “Teleport out of here. I will be right behind you.”
“I-I…” She held her hands up between them. “I cannot.”
He growled when he spotted the thick metal shackle around her left wrist.
“Run then. Just get—” He grunted as someone slammed into his back, sending him face first into the ground, and growled as he bucked up, shoving the male off him. “Run.”
&
nbsp; Shaia scrambled backwards, looked as if she might obey him, and then her hand knocked her dagger and she looked down at it. He willed her not to do it as he grappled with the male who had stabbed him, but her fingers closed around the curved hilt of the black dagger and she rose onto her feet before him, transforming before his eyes.
Into a breathtaking warrior.
Resolve shone in her eyes, and although her fear still ran in his blood, she stood firm, facing her opponents.
The second male, this one of lighter build, finished checking the fallen one by the well and eased onto his feet. Fuery shoved the heavier male off him and landed a hard blow to his face, cracking bone and sending blood streaming over his lips. He pushed away from the male and called his own blade to his hand as he moved into the path between the second male and Shaia.
The heavier male found his feet and his blade again, and flanked him as the second male drew his sword.
Fuery breathed hard, wrestling with the darkness as it rose within him, swept through him and carried away all of his pain, replacing it with a cold sort of numbness that he embraced as he allowed his darkest urges, his blackest needs, to fill him and seize control.
He needed the strength his darkness gave him.
He needed to protect Shaia.
The heavier male lunged for him, and Fuery blocked his attack, the sound of their swords clashing ringing through the still night air. He growled and shoved forwards, knocking the male back, and grinned as the male struck him with his fist, slamming it into his right cheek.
He savoured the brief flash of pain and the taste of blood on his tongue.
Just as he was going to savour tearing this male apart piece by piece.
Heat bloomed in his side, a dull ache that throbbed and pulsed, pushing through the numbness. He growled and lifted his foot and kicked hard, shoving it into the male’s stomach and knocking him back. As the male staggered across the stones, fighting for balance, Fuery dropped his gaze to his side.
Blood.
It streamed over the scales of his armour, shining in the light of the fire.
He grimaced, lips pulling back off his bloodied fangs as he touched the wound. He was losing blood faster than his body could heal, but it wouldn’t be a problem. Not yet. He had time to deal with these bastards and Eirwyn, and then he would feed to kickstart his healing process.
He had time.
He wavered on his feet and growled as a wave of fire rolled through him, fiercer than before.
Not his pain.
He whipped towards Shaia.
She grunted as she dodged the other male’s blade, just as he had taught her, using her smaller size and her speed to her advantage, and growled as she sliced across the male’s side, cutting through his black tunic.
The scent of blood grew thicker in the air.
Not only the male’s.
She staggered a little and pressed her hand to her right arm.
Blood trickled from between her fingers.
“Shaia!” His left boot skidded as he kicked off in her direction, and he grunted, the air rushing from his lungs as his opponent tackled him from behind, sending him slamming into the ground beneath his weight.
Fuery could only stare as she desperately blocked another blow, her dagger no match for the male’s sword, and it glanced off the blade.
Time seemed to slow as the sword cut down her chest, leaving a long red gash between her breasts as she screamed.
Her pain flooded him.
The darkness rushed in behind it and he clung to the slim thread of light inside him that connected him to Shaia as the black abyss yawned before him.
But it wasn’t enough to save him.
The light flickered, slipped through his fingers, and died.
Darkness devoured him.
CHAPTER 27
Shaia felt it the moment Fuery snapped.
Icy cold swept through their fragile link, a dark tide that crashed over her and rocked her, battering her as their connection wavered and she fought to keep it open. Alive.
It was her fault.
She should have run when he had told her to, but she had known his words had been meant to soothe her, not a lie but not the truth either. He had wanted her to leave, and had said the one thing he had believed would make her do it—that he would be right behind her.
When he had intended to stay and punish those who had taken her from him.
The sight of him injured and the knowledge he was going to fight rather than come with her, had filled her with a need to stay. He was her mate. Her ki’aro.
Her love.
She couldn’t just leave him to fight alone.
But as his eyes blackened, his pupils began to transform into vertical slits, and a flicker of red licked around them, she knew she had made a terrible mistake.
He roared and moved faster than she could track, savagely attacking the male who had tackled him to the ground. She flinched away as he gripped the male’s sword arm and brutally yanked backwards, the sound of breaking bone turning her stomach. The male screamed, the sound garbled as his face screwed up and he tried to break free of Fuery’s unrelenting grip.
The male nearest to her immediately went to his companion’s aid, swinging hard with his sword the moment he was within reach.
Fuery snapped violet eyes up to him and bared his bloodied fangs as he blocked the male’s blade with his own, and the relief that poured through her on seeing the red that had been in them gone was short lived.
It flickered again, a corona of fire that turned her blood cold.
The tales of the lost were true.
They did lose all of their light and become shadows of their former selves, gaining the scarlet eyes of a vampire, a species born of the tainted the elves had left behind in the mortal world millennia ago.
Only the lost became monsters, a slave to their bloodlust, no longer conscious of the atrocities they committed, driven only by an unquenchable thirst that consumed them.
Fuery roared as he shoved upwards, springing to his feet and into the male, knocking him backwards. He growled and pressed the flat of his free hand against his blade, driving it against the male’s chest.
The male teleported.
Her mate turned on another low snarl, his black eyes scanning the darkness for his foe.
When they settled on her, she gritted her teeth and risked moving, reaching for him. Pain blazed through her, robbing her of her breath as she desperately clutched the deep wound across her chest with her other arm.
Fuery’s eyes narrowed on her.
On her wound.
She felt the rage in his blood, the darkness as it drove him, flooded their link and spilled into her.
“Fuery, no,” she whispered, trying to keep his focus on her face and not her wound—on her feelings and desires, not her pain.
She wanted him to come to her, wanted him to leave with her, now before it was too late for him.
He growled, the sound vicious and more beast than the elf she loved, and was gone in a flash, appearing behind the male with the broken arm.
She grimaced and looked away as he attacked with his claws, her stomach rebelling as the scent of blood in the air grew thicker and the male cried out again.
She had to do something.
Pain tore through her as she moved and she bit back the cry that burned up her throat and somehow managed to get onto her knees. Her hand shook as she gripped her thigh, breathing hard to bring the pain back to a manageable level so her head would stop spinning. Her stomach turned again, the warm wetness of the blood that covered her chest and her arm making her want to vomit.
Boots appeared before her.
Not Fuery’s.
She tipped her head back, her eyes watering as she struggled to breathe through the agony tearing her apart.
The second male.
He glared down at her and raised his sword.
She pitied him.
A clawed hand closed around the front of his
throat from behind and savagely snapped his head up as it dragged him backwards, away from her. He bellowed in agony as Fuery raked those claws down his back as he spun the male away from him. The male arched forwards as he staggered across the stones to land on his knees near the other male.
Her eyes landed on the prone elf.
Blood glistened in a pool beneath him, spreading outwards across the packed dirt, still seeping from the lacerations that covered his face and body. Blank eyes stared straight at her.
Dead.
The male was dead.
“Fuery,” she whispered, and he looked over his shoulder at her. Fire. It blazed in his eyes. Burned right through her. She shook her head. “Do not.”
The injured male foolishly moved.
Fuery snapped back to face him and her heart lunged into her throat, propelling her onto her feet. She cried out as white-hot fire seared her chest but didn’t stop. She grabbed Fuery’s arm and pulled him back, refusing to let him kill the other male.
It would be too much for him.
He turned on her, flashing his fangs, and pulled his arm free of her grip. She sagged to her knees again, despair flowing through her as she realised he was already too far gone, slipped into the black abyss.
No.
She shook away her fear, refusing to succumb to it and lose hope.
She could still help him.
She glared at the damned shackle around her wrist. If she could get it off, she might have enough strength left to teleport. She only needed one shot.
Fuery needed Hartt.
He needed help.
She could get it for him.
She moved onto her knees and slowly crawled across the flagstones towards the well, and the male she had killed. Fuery’s snarls rang in her ears, his pain echoing on her body as he fought and the darkness pushing at their link, trying to seep into her. She held it back, refusing to let it overcome her too, but also refusing to close her connection to Fuery.
She was his light.
He needed her.
The darkness had him, but she wouldn’t give up on him. As long as she could hold the connection between them open, she would. As long as she could steal even a drop of his pain to help him, she would. She wouldn’t give up. Never. Not until she drew her final breath.
Unchained by a Forbidden Love Page 29