Chapter 35
Sylaira cleared off the dining table while we waited for our friends to return.
Lanterns flickered to life on the walls, and a fire roared in the hearth, heating the space.
I had no idea how my Demon magic was going to react once my Angel power was freed again.
And I knew the removal was going to be painful.
My fingers worked the laces on my leathers loose, and I shrugged them off, followed by my tunic. Bronze glinted in the pale moonlight.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
How fitting that it would come to an end in the very place my father had carved the words into my chest.
Sylaira’s attention drifted to the bandage still wrapped around my forearm. “Hopefully that will heal too.”
“Fuck, I hope so. Then I won’t have red lines crawling in my vision.” Because so long as I didn’t have an open wound, the blood magic wouldn’t prowl so damn close for me to use...I hoped. I looked away from her, jaw ticking. “Earlier…I almost hurt you in my fury.”
“But you didn’t,” she said, cupping my face and scratching her nails through my beard.
I groaned into her palm. “What if I can’t control it through the pain?”
“Then I will help you. I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s going to be excruciating.”
“I know. And I’ll feel it with you. You did all of this for me.” Her voice thickened, throat working around emotion. The predator in me fixed on the motion.
“I’d do anything for you, little fugitive.”
Maelsar and Lyriasthe slipped into the room again before she could reply, arms laden with supplies and alcohol.
“So how are we doing this?” Maelsar asked, dropping his load onto the end of the table.
I grabbed the bottle of sape and yanked out the cork.
The fruit-infused liquid rolled over my tongue as I took a long drag.
It would help dull the pain and clean the resulting wound from the procedure.
A hiss slipped out of me as I passed it to my best friend.
“You’re the only one strong enough, and good enough with a knife, to carve it out of me. ”
“We should really get a healer for this,” he replied.
“And risk revealing that my magic is back? I don’t think so,” I said. “I got lucky with Nymirae. I don’t want there to be a second check.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “It’s going to fucking hurt though, and it’s not going to be pretty.”
“I don’t care. Just don’t kill me,” I said, sitting on the table.
Sylaira’s eyes tracked across my scarred torso, pupils dilating. Heat pulsed through our connection, along with worry. I wanted nothing more than to sink my cock into her and fuck her so hard she’d never think about hating me again.
But there were more important matters to attend to first.
I took one last pull from the bottle of sape, then leaned back. The wood was cool against my skin, and I suppressed a shiver.
Sylaira drifted to the end of the table, standing over me. “I’ll be right here.”
I nodded, dragging in a deep breath. Crushed ghostflower filled my nose, a balm I wanted to drown in forevermore.
Maelsar went to the fire and stuck a knife into the flames.
Lyriasthe rolled out bandages and thick cloths. “We couldn’t find any healing potions in the supply closet. Tomorrow I’ll ride back to the academy and see what I can source.”
So if something went wrong, I wouldn’t survive this. But the temptation of being able to access my Angel magic again was too great to resist.
She handed me a thick leather strap. “You might want to bite this.”
I settled it between my teeth as Maelsar approached, the silver blade white-hot. “Ready?”
Blowing out a long breath, I nodded. Sylaira stroked my hair, nails scratching against my scalp. I focused on that touch rather than the knife hovering an inch above my chest.
“Look at me,” Sylaira said into my mind.
I held her gaze, hoping the softness in my eyes conveyed the depths of my love for her.
The tip dug in, and I clenched my teeth, muscles of my neck bulging. Agony detonated inside me at the first tug against the threads.
Thank the Goddess I was half-drunk.
Copper misted the air as Maelsar dug deeper. My nails bit into my palms, and it took every ounce of willpower to remain still.
“Got one,” he muttered, dropping into Lyriasthe’s outstretched hand.
“One?” I ground out around the leather. Fuck me, this was going to be an arduous process.
The next thread scraped out of my skin, and hot ruby spilled across my muscles. Sylaira took a cloth from Lyriasthe and gently wiped the blood away.
It was nothing compared to the red twisting in my vision.
You will not hurt them. You are in control.
Cold sank into my bones as the fifth fell away. I focused on my mate, trying to disassociate from the pain. The way her lips pressed together as she concentrated. The slight pinch to her brow. The tumultuous mix of emotion tumbling down our bond.
Her grief. Her rage. Her love.
“I knew you never truly stopped,” I told her.
The corner of her mouth twitched up. “You don’t.” Still, something softened in her ice-blue eyes.
I would have apologized sooner if I’d known she would look at me like that again.
Maelsar dug the newly reheated knife in, and I screamed against the leather before I could gather myself. The scent of charred flesh accompanied the metallic tang of the blood and bronze.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his focus still trained on me. “Lyriasthe, can you add more light?”
White magic rippled through the air, and I closed my eyes, the brightness too severe to withstand atop everything else.
Sylaira began to hum, and I clutched the melody like it alone would sanctify me. Within a few notes, I recognized it as the one we’d danced to atop the tree before the trial by light. The memory of that night rose, as clear as if it were only minutes before.
Sylaira braided her memory through mine, until the image of the moment I’d confessed how much she meant to me took shape. But every time Maelsar carved out a new thread, the scene wavered, pain bleeding from me to my mate.
She didn’t stop reliving the moment with me. Didn’t close herself off. Didn’t leave me to suffer alone.
And for that, I was grateful.
Sweat slicked my skin, and she swiped my hair back, gathering it away from my neck and temples.
“Do you need a break?” she whispered.
I shook my head the barest amount. Because the agony was so great, if we stopped, I wasn’t sure I could convince myself to start again. “Just keep touching me. Please.” Even mind to mind, the words emerged ragged.
Her fingers traced along my opposite shoulder and down my arm. I lifted my hand and grasped hers. Even with the force of my grip, she still continued gentle caresses along my skin.
With each popped thread, familiar incandescence rose through the blanket of red-tinged darkness.
Time fractured. Hours and minutes swapped. Each breath trembled. The rise and fall of my chest turned rapid. Something roared inside me, a beast thrashing to be free.
“Three letters left,” Maelsar promised.
I didn’t open my eyes to check.
“One more.”
Thank the Goddess.
The tip pierced my skin, a blinding agony exploding behind my eyes.
“Oh fuck,” Maelsar swore. “Lyr, get me more bandages.”
“Did you pull it?” Sylaira asked, but her voice was distant, like I was underwater. “Why are you pressing like that?”
He was pressing?
“I went too deep,” Maelsar rasped while black edged into my vision.
Sylaira’s scream shattered the air.
And then the world went blank.