Chapter 19 #3
The leader hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before pride and drink smothered whatever instinct had urged caution. He squared his shoulders, planted his feet, and leveled his knife at the stranger. “You’ll wait your turn.”
My pulse quickened. He had no idea what stood in front of him. He didn’t know what kind of monster he was facing.
“No, he’s—” I stepped forward without thinking, the warning tearing out of me before I could stop it.
He spun on me instantly, already wound too tight, and drove his knife forward, straight into my side.
For a split second there was no pain, only pressure, deep and wrong as the blade sank in.
Then it came all at once, ripping through me, stealing the air from my chest as a choked cry escaped my lips.
He stared at me, startled, and stumbled back half a step, leaving the blade buried in my side. His hand dropped to his belt, fumbling for another knife. He managed to tear it free—
Just as Rìan moved.
It happened too quickly to follow. The male's wild slash cut through empty air, Rìan already stepping past it with a fluid turn that sent his cloak sweeping wide.
His hand closed around the man's wrist and twisted.
Bone snapped with a sickening crack, and the man's howl of agony split the air.
The knife flew from limp fingers, spinning into the fog and out of sight.
The male barely had time to react before the first blow landed, his head snapping back as blood burst from his shattered nose. The second blow caught him across the temple and he went limp, collapsing to his knees before pitching face-first into the dirt.
Silence settled again.
I stayed where I was, breath shallow, the world tilting as my hand trembled over the knife lodged in my side.
Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my fingers around the hilt and pulled.
A grunt tore from my throat as it slid free, blood spilling hot and slick over my hand.
It slipped from my fingers, my vision swimming, but it never hit the ground.
Impossibly fast, Rìan moved forward, catching it in his palm.
He turned away without a word and crossed to the unconscious male. He seized the back of his shirt and rolled him over. My vision swam, and I couldn’t make out what he was doing. Finally, he straightened, his hood slipping back as he tossed the knife aside.
I shrank back as he approached, every instinct screaming at me to get away.
He stopped in front of me. His magic pressed against me, simmering beneath his skin, immense and perfectly controlled. The air between us crackled with it.
For one suspended heartbeat, he simply looked down at me. Then, slowly, the Dark Prince lowered himself to his knees in the dirt.
This couldn't be real. The blood loss had to be playing tricks on my mind.
His hands closed over mine, firm and sure, peeling them away from my side.
My blood immediately stained his fingers.
Without a word, they moved to the woven bodice of my dress.
There was a sharp rip as he tore the fabric open, exposing the wound beneath.
His dark eyes swept over the injury, his expression unreadable.
His fingers brushed the bare skin of my side.
My magic exploded to life. It tore free of whatever corner of my soul it had been cowering in and raced toward him with startling urgency, drawn irresistibly to the vast power banked inside him.
Warmth spread beneath my skin, gathering around the wound.
The pain dulled until it became little more than a distant throb.
Rìan rose. "Come," he said gruffly, already turning away.
I managed only a few unsteady steps before my knees gave out. The alley lurched sideways, darkness crowding the edges of my vision.
Strong arms caught me before I struck the ground.
One slid behind my back, the other beneath my knees, lifting me as though I weighed nothing at all.
His scent surrounded me—leather, warm skin, something wild, like the charged stillness before a storm.
It invaded my lungs, steady, grounding, undeniably male.
Every instinct screamed at me to shove him away. To fight. To recoil from his touch. But my body refused to obey. My magic reached toward him with a hunger that made bile rise in my throat, even as I wanted nothing more than to tear myself from his arms.
My eyelids grew heavier. As we passed the male from the tavern, my gaze drifted downward despite myself. His face had been sliced open, two deep slashes running from the corners of his mouth toward his ears. Yet his chest still rose in shallow, uneven breaths.
Alive.
The others lay farther back, sprawled where they'd fallen, half-swallowed by the fog. One let out a low groan as we passed.
Then, just as the world began slipping away entirely, the shadows in the far corner of the alley stirred, thickening into something unnaturally dense. A figure stepped free.
A familiar face. Pale, almost luminous against the darkness. One side sagged grotesquely, twisted as though it had begun to melt from the bone beneath. Those swirling eyes settled on me, faintly amused, otherwise unimpressed.
He clicked his tongue.
Then darkness claimed me.