Chapter 36 #2
He gurgled for a moment before falling heavily beside me. For a moment, we stared at each other until, slowly, any essence of life faded from his eyes.
It was a brutal kind of death, but I couldn't bring myself to feel any remorse for it. No, I savored the image of his death at my hand. I committed it to memory while I unabashedly reveled in the satisfaction that the man who had snapped Nessira's neck had gotten the punishment he so deserved.
Forcing a swallow, I pushed away from the body, my chest heaving while I trembled.
Gods.
“Marcus?”
George's voice rang out, far too close to the house.
I scrambled to my feet, slipping in the blood and grabbing onto the wall to steady myself.
He stepped into the doorway, eyes bouncing between Marcus’ body on the ground and my blood-soaked dress.
“What the fuck?” His murderous gaze settled on me.
I bolted.
Instinct took over, adrenaline coursing through me and soothing my many aches and pains as I darted down the hall and out the back door of the house. He followed only a step behind me. His shouting followed, wrapping around me like an ominous cocoon.
I needed to hide. In my current condition I couldn't possibly hope to outrun him, so I needed to bunker down someplace he wouldn't be able to find me until I could gather enough strength to flee.
I’d only managed a few yards, though, before the pain in my throbbing head became unmanageable. My ribs were already burning, my legs already threatening to buckle beneath me. Blood still seeped from the wound on my brow, flowing so steadily that I could barely blink it away.
Again, I stumbled, finding my balance before completely faltering as I rushed into the town square. Gasping, I choked on the air in my lungs, tears once again filling my eyes.
As I skidded around the corner of a bakery, I reached out for a discarded barrel, throwing it behind me to block his path. The sound of it crashing against the brick wall echoed only moments later as he threw it out of his way.
“You’re dead!” George bellowed after me, the sounds of his heavy footfalls growing louder and louder.
Without breaking my pace, I broke my own rules. I turned, looking behind me
Too close. He was too close.
He was bigger. Stronger. Faster.
“Dead! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you for this!”
Nessira’s face flashed in my mind, and I choked out a mumbled apology. I had wanted to make her death meaningful. I had wanted to escape and save the realm like she'd asked.
But I wasn't going to escape. And she had only died for this.
For nothing.
My stomach clenched in an unforgiving cramp, and I fisted the fabric of my dress as I slammed my hand into my side.
He was going to catch me, and when he caught me, the potential reward Hyrax offered wouldn’t be enough to help George see past the rage that currently blinded him.
His threats carried real meaning. I was dead if he caught me.
I had to push harder. I had to keep running. I had to—
My head reverberated backward as I slammed face-first into a firm chest.
“No!” I screamed without thinking, flailing and falling back.
Thrashing, I slapped out blindly, refusing to be held down again. I would not allow another man to wrap his arms and hold me still like I’d been restrained while Nessira died.
I fought with every bit of my waning strength, but the arms that wrapped themselves around my waist did so gently.
They didn’t squeeze the breath from my lungs or leave bruises under their touch.
They held me almost reverently, stopping me from falling as I dazedly regained my balance.
I frowned at the familiar scent in the air.
As I looked up, another scream lodged in my throat before turning into a small, disbelieving whimper.
Cinnamon.
Burnt oak and cinnamon.
Golden hair. Golden eyes. Golden scales.
“Thea?” he rasped, wide eyes staring down at me as if he too couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
His voice was like a dream, far too perfect to be real. He was a vision of peace sent to comfort me once the pain had gotten too intense.
“You’re here?” I whispered, my voice breaking.
He couldn’t be.
When my knees finally gave out, he fell with me. Tears fell unabashedly from his eyes, his hands smoothing down my hair.
It couldn’t be true. He was in Eagirton.
My mind was playing tricks on me.
“You’re real?”
Clay pulled me against him, careful of the many wounds that covered my body.
His lips pressed against my brow and the top of my head.
Over and over. His touch was soft, such a stark contrast to every touch from the past several months that I didn’t know how to handle it.
I trembled at the feel of his hand running up and down my spine.
“I’m here, baby,” his voice cracked with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’m here now.”
Not real. Not real. Not real.
“Am I dead?”
He stiffened against me, spine going rigid.
“No, Theadora. You are very much alive.” He wrapped his arms more fully around me, surrounding me in his scent. It had been so very long since he’d held me like this. “We are both alive. We are both here. You’re safe.”
He pulled back, taking my face between his hands and pressing his brow to mine. “I promise.”
The ground felt like it was falling out from underneath me as I stared at him, memorizing the lines of his face.
The skin under his eyes was hollower than when I had last seen him.
His hair was a touch darker and longer. He was changed in a way that he wouldn't be if he were just a manifestation of a memory.
I ran my fingers through the ends of his hair.
Real.
“You found me?” My voice was breathless with amazement.
He nodded, pulling my face to his.
“I’m always going to find you, Thea,” he promised against my lips as he pressed his mouth to mine.