CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #3
Roars and screeches and the stench of death slam into me. Every shred of me opens an eye, my very bones recognizing the inherent threat in that scent. My nostrils flare as I scan the area in front of me, but a billowing wall of flames shrouds whatever lurks behind it.
My attention snaps to the commotion over my shoulder, where a male fights three hulking beasts that tear at him with claws and teeth. I dismiss them as a secondary threat and swivel back toward the densest pocket of the miasma.
There isn’t time to brace myself before a slab of rock soars through the flames and collides with my shoulder. Its bulk drives me toward the ground.
The tip of my wing wedges into a crack in the stone and snaps as my weight crumples the rest of it into my back. My cry melds with the cacophony echoing off the walls, the heady scent of blood now swirling with the putrid scents that clog the tunnel.
A fan of bone-tipped fingers swipes at my head. I latch onto the wrist and rake my talons down the broad chest that blots out the space above me. I’m met with resistance and growl as my talons dig in harder. The stone gives.
The beast screeches inches from my ears, so loud my eyes water at the pain that spikes through my head.
Its free arm goes for my throat. I fling my elbow in its path and slap my palm over the gashes.
Molten fire floods its chest cavity. The scream eviscerating my ears rises in pitch before the beast’s body slumps to the side. I spring to my feet and twist around.
Two of the hulking forms slash and lunge at the male. Smoky whips are twined like vines around the third, holding its snapping teeth at bay. His blood patters into a sea of black sludge smeared across the rocky ground. Its coppery scent and a bitter tang suffocate the tunnel.
I home in on one of the creatures and pounce. My talons sink into its obsidian-hewn back and rip out the pallid wings with a downward sweep. They swing against its spine, still connected by glistening threads of tendon and bones that jut at unnatural angles.
Globs of saliva splatter the front of my shirt as it rounds on me.
I clamp my hand over its gaping maw and pump flames into every orifice.
It crumples but is instantly replaced by a black wall that eclipses everything behind it.
I twist and drop to my stomach. The beast lands a few feet beyond my head and pivots, its beady black eyes focused on me. I snarl my challenge.
Before either of us can so much as twitch, a rope of smoke coils around its neck and jerks. The beast hits the ground chest-first. I’m on it in a blink and dispatch it with a flood of fire.
I whirl back to the male as he drives a dagger under the chin of the last opponent, still tangled in a web of his magic.
The tendrils vanish into a shimmering cloud, and the body strikes the ground with a dull thud in the sudden quiet.
His chest heaves as he turns to face me.
I sink into a crouch, the tip of my wing throbbing like a second heartbeat.
“Fuck,” he groans, a taloned hand dragging through his hair. “Not again.”
His deep voice caresses my ears in the wake of the screeching and roars. His hands fall open at his sides, his fingers dripping red and black blood. The patter thunders through my head. He opens his mouth to say something else, but I pounce.
He doesn’t resist as I drive him to the ground. My knees straddle his hips, my fangs just inches from the vein pulsing in his neck.
His head falls back and he sighs, no resistance in the arms I have pinned beneath my hands. His eyes drift shut. “You’d be doing me a favor if you just ended this.”
I cock my head at the icy resignation that drenches his tone.
A flash of red catches my attention and my gaze flicks to his chest. I blink at the brutal scab that is visible through the tattered strands of his shirt.
A track of fresh wounds trail through the old and weep teardrops of blood down his waist. I still at the memory of why this male has this horrific wound.
He came for me. Refused to leave me behind. My gaze rises to his. Griffon.
His name is Griffon.
His eyes widen. “That’s right. I see that brilliant mind of yours working. Follow that thread and find who you are. Anchor in yourself.”
That vision—no, memory—floods my mind and I drown myself in white feathers and snow.
My eyes drift shut, and I drag a deep breath in through my nose.
The scent of burning flesh and Griffon’s blood tries to shred the memory but I cling to it.
My lids slide open to his dark eyes, pinned on mine with an intensity that draws my lips back off my teeth.
I issue a warning growl, but the depth of his expression only deepens.
Slowly, so slowly, I relinquish his arms and sit back.
“Are you anchored enough to not rip my spine out if I go first?” he asks, pointing to my right.
I glance that direction. The darkness spills its secrets for me, my vision piercing into its depths. I glance back at his chest. Something about him calls to some part of me in a way I don’t understand.
Griffon. Friend. The word feels strange, but I clench my jaw and nod.