A murmur rises from the throngs. “He deserves to die.”
“Boris isn’t fit to lead the Fae Corps, is he?” I roar at the crowd.
“Kill him,” the reply echoes back.
“Death.”
My skin crawls. Either way, these people want one thing. They want to see us die. They want violence. The need to hurt, to feel the throes of people fighting to the death. The stench of viciousness from them slams into me.
There’s a movement to my right. Dante walks up to stand behind me. “You heard the audience.” His voice is harsh and filled with loathing. I’ve never heard him sound like this. Like a man who’s made up his mind. A man who knows there’s no turning back.
“Now.” At his command, I drop to the ground.
A scream fills the air.
A growl of pain is torn for him, then he rips off the net of telekinetic energy and flings it at Boris.
At the same time, the commander holds up the ball of burning energy between his palms. It glows hot and hideous, a killer weapon. It lights his face. Shows the tapered edge of his ears.
Then he hurls it at Dante.
There’s a low cry from behind me.
“No.” Everything around me seems to fade away.
I turn to find the ball of energy slam into Dante’s chest. He staggers back. His gaze turns to me. He opens his mouth, and blood spills out. His body shakes, then slowly, he topples over.
Pain hurtles down the mating bond. It slams into me and my breath catches. The blood drains from my face. I stumble and almost fall; then righting myself I race forward.
Around me I sense the audience springing up. They begin to run for the exit. The entire ground seems to shake.
Another ball of fire hurtles toward me, and I duck.
The energy hit goes wide, crashing into the ground beyond us. All the lessons learned at the Bureau thankfully seem to be etched into my reflexes.
“If something were to happen to you, I’ll never forgive myself.” He looks at me.
I see his lips move. I shouldn’t hear him above the screams of the crowd, but I do. There’s a buzzing in my ears. I shake my head.
The hum surrounding me deepens.
“Me neither.” I bare my lips. Tremors grip my body. All my cells seem to be flooding with energy. Something deep inside me snaps. It’s as if a wall breaks. A white-hot buzz floods me. It spikes my blood, spurts out of my skin and propels me in his direction.
I seem to leap the rest of the distance between us. At the same time, there is a pounding at my temples; tendrils of energy spark at my nerve endings and contracts my veins. The tips of my ears tingle, and pain ripples down the sides of my face.
What is happening to me?
There is a feeling of letting go, like my body is no longer weighing me down, I feel like I am flying.
My head spins.
My muscles ripple.
My gums crumple and my canines drop, the sharp edge biting into the inside of my lower lip. The taste of copper fills my mouth.
Then, the energy rears up from me and slams into the mating bond that connects us. The silver essence laced with blue floods the bond and races to him. Only him. His big body stiffens, then his shoulders pull back. His chest planes go solid and he draws in a big gulp of air.
The energy pours into him; it seems to find exactly the parts of him that need it the most. The blood on his skin glows silver and blue, then his flesh begins to knit together.
He pushes down with his arms and springs to his feet.
The mating bond that links us sparkles silver and blue. He pulls on the energy, yanks it all into his center.
He holds up his hands, palms facing each other. Between them is a ball of fire. Blue and turquoise and flecked with silver, it’s our combined energies. He forms them into the shape of an arrow and hurls it at Boris.
36
Dante
I hurl the weapon at Boris.
It screeches toward him, slams into his chest and thrusts him back. His spine curves and his body makes a graceful arc. The weapon carries him along all the way to the edge of the arena. His body hits the ground, dirt flies up, then a crack appears in the ground. It radiates out from him, spidering toward me. I turn to Gia and hold out my hand. She grabs it.
Her gaze falls to my collar.
“Break it.” I lean my head to the side.
“Me?”
One side of my mouth turns up in a smile. “You know you can.”
She swallows, then leans forward and hooks a finger under the wire. She tugs at it, and the collar breaks free. The organic metal twitches in her palm like it is alive. She flings it aside, then points a finger at it. Fire whooshes out, and the collar vaporizes.
She turns to me; her face goes pale. “Umm, I am not really sure how I did that.” Her shoulders shake, and her legs seem to give out from under her. Then she slumps toward the ground.
Fear churns my gut. I leap forward and catch her. Pain squeezes my side where the telekinetic web burned me. Gritting my teeth, I shove it aside, then swing her up in my arms. I need to get her out of here.
In the far corner where Boris fell, there’s another flash of light. The telekinetic energy seems to grow larger; it shoots up in the air then folds in on itself.
“He teleported out,” a new voice rings out.
I turn my head. “Tristan?”
He strides toward me. When he comes to within a foot of me, his gaze falls to the woman in my arms. A growl rumbles up my chest, and I cradle her even closer to my chest.
He stops, then holds up his arms. “I don’t mean any harm to you or to her.”
My skin tightens; my stomach churns. He’s my friend, but he’s a male. I hunch my body over her. I will not allow any other man near her. No one but me gets to take care of her.
“I am on your side, Dante.” His voice is steady, low pitched.
One of Boris’ soldiers takes a step forward. Tristan raises his finger. A burst of fire hits the man who promptly stumbles then collapses to the ground.
The rest of Boris’ soldiers take in his fallen body. One of them throws down his gun. The others follow.
More footsteps thud, then men race out of the entrance of the arena and surround us. The Fae Corps have arrived.
“I overheard the commander talking to you." Tristan stalks forward, "I knew then he was already losing his ability to think straight.” His eyebrows draw down,
“Well, it took you long enough to get here.” Anger churns my guts.
He angles his head. “Boris had me and the rest of the Fae Corps imprisoned. It took us a while to escape.”
“This cannot happen again.” I sweep my gaze over the remnants of the audience, the fallen body of Boris’ soldier, the others being pushed face down by the Fae Corps.
“It won’t.” One side of Tristan’s lips curls.
“You sound very confident.”
“I am. With you as our new commander, I know you’ll never let things descend to such chaos again.”
I crack my neck.
The movement trembles down my arms toward Gia, and she moans in my arms. My gaze drops to her face. “Fuck,” I swear. Her cheeks are pale; sweat beads her forehead. “I need to get out of here and tend to her.”
37
Gia
White sound surrounds me. I feel like I am still moving, caught in a vortex that ebbs and flows around me. It pulls me apart. My skin feels too tight for my body. The scent of blood is thick in the air. The sounds of screams fill my ears.
They’re coming for me.
I try to move and find I can’t. My limbs drag me down. The sense of hopelessness grips me; bile curdles in my stomach. I need to get out of here, but how? Everywhere I look there are bodies burning. I try to run only to stumble and fall. Pain rips up my side. “Please,” I stutter. “Let me go.”
“You’re the reason for my losing this city." Boris widens his stance, "I am going to hunt you down, and hurt those nearest to you. I am
going to kill him…then you.”
“No.” Anger twists my guts. “I’ll never let you hurt Dante.” I push myself to my feet. My legs tremble. I grip my hands at my sides and force myself to take a step forward, then another.
The monster faces me. He lifts his hand and points his finger at me. The tips glow blue. The air around me grows thin. The hair on forearms rise. “I am going to kill you.” It’s only when my feet hit the ground that I realize I am running. Pain floods my chest, and I almost double over. My throat feels raw, yet I don’t stop. Keep going. I move so fast the wind screams past. My ears elongate, my bones shudder. The pressure behind my eyes builds, and my vision narrows. I bare my lips. My teeth feel like they are being pushed out, and my canines slide out, piercing my skin.
Another jolt of pain slashes down my neck.
Something inside me gathers, drawing on all the energies that have been stored in different parts of me. Energies I didn’t know existed, that are potent. They are sucked into my very center, folding in on themselves. White and red and blue, all the colors cluster into a ball which explodes. The energy pulses out in waves, concentric circles of heat and pain which gather at my fingertips.
Boris widens his stance and props his arms on his waist. Those dark eyes blaze at me. “We are not done yet.” He leers.
I hold out my hands, palms facing each other. The energy swells between them. My fingertips tingle. The muscles of my forearms twitch. Rolling the energy into a ball I hurl it at the monster.
It hits him in the chest and blows through him. His body bends and crumples in on itself. And yet those eyes, they keep looking at me, burning into my skull.
“He’s coming for me.” Fear bubbles up. My heart races. Sweat streams down my forehead, plastering my hair to my face. Something shakes my shoulder. “No.” I try to shake it off.
“Gia.”
The pain balloons inside me, growing bigger and bigger. My nails slide out, piercing my skin. Blood trickles from my fingertips. It streams from my eyes and drips from my ears. “No, I don’t want this.”
“Gia, baby, open your eyes.”
The voice is familiar, and yet that endearment…no one has called me that. No one can feel so much for me. The pain in the voice… The ball of heat in my chest twinges. It’s growing bigger, stronger, threatening to tear out of me. My chest lunges forward, my spine bends, and every part of me aches for his touch. For his scent. For him.
“Dante.” My eyes fly open.
And I see him. His features are pinched. The skin over his cheeks stretches white. There are dark circles under his eyes. The skin around it is marked purple. “You look terrible.” I hiccough.
One side of those beautiful lips draws back in a smirk. And it’s as if nothing else matters. Not the fact that something is happening to me, that I am changing beyond recognition. That I’d just been in a fight, that I’d helped to put away the monster. “He’s not dead.” My voice is soft.
All emotions are wiped off his face. His lips tighten.
“He’s not going to harm you. I’ll make sure no one comes near you again.” His throat moves as he swallows. “When I saw him hurt you, Gia…” He squeezes his eyes shut.
“You were afraid for me?” There’s a warm feeling in my chest. It’s like honey, sweet and sticky. Like the calm after a particularly fierce storm.
He cracks his eyelids open and peers down at me. “I cannot lose you.”
He leans over me, his arms on either side of my chest. Only then do I realize I am in bed, in his bed. We are back at the safe house in Sochi.
The scent of him is all around me, layers of it wafting off the sheets, pluming off his skin. It surrounds me, as if its presence is a living, breathing thing that ties me to him. “What have you done to me?”
The words roll off my tongue before I can stop them.
His jaw tightens, and a pulse beats at his temple. “I mated you.”
“You fucked me.” Why am I doing this? There is this need to hurt him that chafes my insides. It compels me to hold his gaze, to thrust out my chin and push my back into the bed. It’s a clear sign of withdrawal.
His forehead furrows.
He knows it, too.
I can’t explain it, honest. He’s my mate, I know that. He saved my life, and I… “How did I do that?”
“Do what?” His voice is cautious.
“Break your collar.” My gaze falls to where a thin scar wraps around his neck.
“You mean how did you race across the arena, almost teleporting to me, before uniting your energy with mine so I could draw on our combined forces and get the bastard?”
“Is that what happened?” I frown.
“You know it is. You are denying what you did back there,” he says on an exhale.
The breath sears the skin of my cheek.
“I don’t know what took place. I don’t understand why I am feeling like this…”
“Like what?” He cants his head.
His biceps twitch as if he wants to reach for me but is stopping himself. He’s planked over me. Holding up his weight on his arms and balancing himself on his toes. Even wounded and half recovered he’s more lethal than anyone I’ve ever met. “Now you are the one talking in riddles.”
I flick out my tongue to lick my lips.
His gaze falls to my mouth.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I press my body into the mattress, and that only sets off another tingling through my body. The brush of the sheets against my back is almost too much to bear. Every pore in my body seems to be sensitized, and I cannot understand why.
“You’re fighting what is between us.” A muscle flexes above his cheekbone.
I watch it, unable to tear my eyes away from it. A tendril of sweat trickles down his throat. It slithers down that valley between his pecs.
That’s when I realize he is naked. And so am I.
38
Dante
Awareness flares in her eyes. Those silver irises go impossibly liquid. Her pupils darken. Her gaze sweeps over my chest, farther below to where I am already semi-erect. Blood rushes to my groin. I know I am hardening right in front of her eyes. Yeah, that’s the kind of male I am. I brought her here to heal her, yet I can’t seem to keep myself from wanting to touch her, to be close to her. To look into her eyes and see my own desire reflected in them. To feel my body as it reacts to her nearness. It’s a special kind of hell. Being so close to her yet not allowing myself to touch her.
Her breathing grows shallow; her breasts tremble. I don’t need to look at the swollen flesh to know that her nipples are sharp enough to cut me if I lower my chest and crush them against my planes. Just the thought of holding her, licking her, sucking her sets off a fire deep inside. But I cannot, will not, let myself have her, not yet.
I may be selfish enough to want her only for myself, but even I know it’s important to face the one thing that shimmers between us. “You are changing, Gia.”
Her lips thin, then a low chuckle bleeds out of her. “That’s an understatement.” Her shoulders tremble. She squeezes her palms at her sides. Fear rolls off her.
My heart squeezes. The mating cord bunches in my chest, sending a pulse of fear racing down my spine. I push away from the bed, then rise to my feet.
She watches me from under hooded eyelids.
I hold out my hand.
She firms her lips.
I jerk my head at her, urging her with my gaze. Something tells me now is not the time to speak. If I do, I’ll destroy the semblance of calm she seems to have wrapped around herself.
She sits up and places her hand in mine. Thank fuck. I wrap my fingers around her delicate wrist. Then tug.
She follows my direction and swings her legs over. Her knees buckle, then she catches herself.
I release the breath I’d not been aware I was holding.
I walk across the floor of my bedroom to the mirror that is propped up against one corner of the wall.
She follows me, her body r
igid. Her shoulders are stiff, her muscles coiled. I run my thumb over the delicate skin of her wrist where her pulse thuds.
Her breath catches, and I can’t stop the flare of heat that coils in my gut. How can I want her so much, even now, when she is vulnerable and hurting? When she is so open that I can feel every single emotion that rolls through her, cutting her, as if it were my wounds that were open? My heart that hurts, that beats for her. My skin that trembles with the need to wrap my body around her and protect her. Forever.
Stopping in front of the mirror, I fold my other palm around her hand, dwarfing her little one between both of mine.
I tug, exerting just enough pressure to pull her in front of me. Her gaze skitters to the side.
“Look at us, Gia. Look at what you are. What we are…” I can’t bring myself to say anything more.
She shakes her head. “Some things are better seen, better experienced than spoken about.” Her chin wobbles. Tears streak her cheek.
Then she angles her face toward the mirror. In the reflection, her eyes meet mine. Her gaze widens, and she swallows hard.
“What do you see?”
“You, I see you,” she whispers.
A fierce surge of satisfaction fills my chest. The mating bond throbs. I drop my grip on her hand, only to prop my hands on her waist.
She shudders but doesn’t break our connection in the mirror.
“What else?” I bend down so my face is next to hers. My cheek grazes her skin.
Her throat moves as she swallows.
“Tell me, Starlight.” I want to move in and surround her with my body, but something still holds me back. I need her to acknowledge what she sees, what she is becoming. It’s important that she knows how it will be between us…should she choose to take this last step.
She raises her eyes and runs her gaze over her reflection. The hook of her nose, the pink bow of her lips, the soft skin that stretches over high cheekbones. The arch of her ears that end in tapered points.
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