Chapter 10
TEN
Softness is weakness.
ALISTAIR
Luca’s breathing evens out, but I can’t sleep.
With the taste of his blood coating my tongue, I’m as close to relaxed as I can be without Celine by my side. I don’t deserve either of them, but I’ll kill anyone who tries to take them from me.
There’s a steadiness to Luca that makes everything easier to accept. Horrible traffic? He distracts me with a joke. Starving to death? He pierces a vein without hesitation.
Celine relies on him, and I depend on him for more than his blood. Why can’t he see that and embrace it? If I was everyone’s rock in the storm, the whole world would know it.
Luca’s hair tickles my neck. It’s incredibly soft. I tuck it behind his ear, pleased when he doesn’t stir. He may mistrust the monster inside him, but I’m not worried—not about that.
Luca is monstrous, and the basilisk is vicious. He’s a threat to anyone who crosses him, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.
Cold air grazes my lower back where my shirt has ridden up.
Contorted on this tiny bed, my thoughts drift to Celine. Is Ciprian wrapped around her right now? I tense, expecting white-hot rage to consume me the way it usually does when I think of him.
I’m relieved when it doesn’t come, and relieved that she isn’t alone. Ciprian wouldn’t bat an eye before killing to keep her safe. I know that because I’ve seen it firsthand. It’s exactly what he did for me before everything got hopelessly tangled.
Untangle it. The thought is loud. It demands that I clean up after myself. Am I capable? I did it with Luca tonight, but Casanell is different. While he’s quick to tell a joke, he can hold a grudge as well as I can.
“Alistair,” Malach’s urgent whisper startles me. Gods. Has he been awake the whole time? “Something’s outside.”
I tense, tightening my arm around Luca.
Then I hear it. A scraping shuffle, claws against wood.
Heavy, wet panting.
It’s coming through the locked door.
“I hear it,” I whisper.
Something smacks against the wall nearest his cot.
“Shit,” I hiss. “Get away from the wall.”
Malach climbs out of bed and shuffles closer to me and Luca. “I don’t know what it could”—a hideous scream pierces the log walls—“possibly be.”
Luca sits upright. “What—”
I clamp my hand over his mouth. Whatever this thing is, it’s listening to us. There’s another loud thump. Wood splinters, and the entire room lurches. The spike our cell is mounted on groans under the pressure.
Malach stumbles as the floor tilts, and I grab his arm to steady him.
A chill rolls down my back. Whatever is attacking us isn’t trying to get in; it’s trying to knock the cabin over. Like cracking a nut. It doesn’t care if we’re in pieces at the end. Broken or whole, we’ll taste the same.
Another hard blow rocks our cell. The cot slides into the wall and my head smacks against the wood, leaving me momentarily stunned.
“Get to the middle,” Malach says. “We need to put our weight in the center, or it’s going to knock us over.”
“Maybe it’s trying to free us,” Luca whispers.
The creature cackles with unmistakable glee—a cross between laughter and clicking. “Doesn’t sound like a jailbreak to me,” I mutter. “I vote for Malach’s idea.”
Luca grunts and rolls off the cot with me. It slides across the slate floor and crashes into the opposite wall. We crawl to the middle of the round room, but there’s nothing to hold on to.
Malach’s elbow collides with my belly. I scratch Luca’s calf while scrambling for leverage, and the basin of water flies at my face. I duck, and it sails over my head, falling into the fire with a hiss. The cabin fills with smoke.
“What the fuck?” Luca grunts as he kicks a cot away. All three remaining beds—Ciprian’s was gone when we returned—are ricocheting around like pinballs as the cabin rocks. “Is it trying to tenderize us?”
“Back-to-back.” Malach coughs. “Protect your heads.” He stretches his legs out in front of him, blocking an incoming cot by wedging it against the opposite wall.
It gives him a much-needed anchor point.
Eyes burning, I lock my arms with his and Luca’s and hook the next cot with my foot.
It slams into the rounded wall and bucks off the floor—three legs wobbling ominously midair.
I shove against the base with my other foot until all four legs are planted on the cabin floor, and the top of the bed is wedged against the wall.
The remaining cot hurtles toward the fire.
Barely visible through the thick smoke, it rebounds off the magical barrier that prevents us from using the flames to burn our way out.
We’ve tried everything to reach it with no success.
It’s interesting that the spilled water made it through the barrier with no problem. A safety measure?
Focus, you fool.
Another blow lands against the outside of the cabin.
My stomach rolls as we tip almost completely over. Feet planted against the cot; I’m sitting and standing at the same time.
The spike that supports our cell whines.
I stiffen and brace for it to snap. It can’t last. Wood isn’t known for its elasticity.
Someone outside screams. My ears ring, and I groan as the cries multiply. Shrill, piercing, and sad, they’re coming from every direction.
The monster makes a pained sound, and the cabin shudders. Wings flap, massive ones, from the sound of it. Then the flapping fades until I can’t hear it over the screaming.
The screams cut off next—at least, I think they do. My ears are ringing, so it’s hard to be sure. I touch them with shaky fingers, and they come away wet with blood. My blood. Gods, I didn’t notice the smell because of the smoke.
“What the fuck was that?” Luca moans, leaning his head against mine.
“An alarm, maybe,” Malach guesses. “To scare that thing away.”
“They could have turned it on sooner,” I grumble, glancing around at the mess.
Malach’s cot is missing a leg. Water is spilled everywhere, and the fire is nothing but embers. “We’re going to freeze to death,” I say grimly.
It’ll be me first; we all know that. The other two barely seem to notice the cold.
“We’ll figure something—” The door swings open, cutting Luca off and revealing the insufferable veydra.
“Still alive?” he asks. “Good. It would be tricky to explain why you returned to the arena with pieces missing.”
“What was that?” Luca demands.
Riven scoffs. “The basilisk doesn’t know his own neighbors?
I would have thought you’d be familiar with the sounds of a hungry skarnyx.
” His eyes gleam beneath their amber coating.
“I looked into you, Luca Saratelli. There’s no record of your birth in the logs.
It seems your parents didn’t want anyone to know about their bouncing baby snakeling. ”
“Leave them out of this.” Luca shoves to his feet.
“I have no interest in them,” Riven says. “And my interest in you only extends to your impact on my ability to do my job. Since you’re linked to Celine, here we are. Tell me, have you had enough yet? Do you want to return to the Fringes? Her trouble doesn’t have to involve any of you.”
We charge him as one.
Luca is closest, but I’m fast, even with my abilities dampened. My fangs lengthen, poised to tear out the asshole’s throat. Then I bounce off an invisible barrier.
Riven grins. “I reset your security. The magic is back up and running.”
Behind us, the fire resets too, sparks coming off the logs.
I clear my throat and hold his stare. “I would rather die by Celine’s side than live without her.”
The smile melts from his face. “Death isn’t romantic, vampire. And blind loyalty rarely ages well. It’s a bit like milk in that way.”
Malach scoffs.
“Ah, the silent giant has thoughts too. Please, share them,” Riven says.
“Old milk is one of the useful products on Earth. Cheese, sour cream, butter—”
“I get it, good gods.” Riven holds up his hand. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I purr. “If you cross that barrier you’re cowering behind, I’ll be happy to decline it more intimately.”
He tsks. “You’re as uncivilized as the skarnyx. I can’t imagine what she sees in you all.”
Luca leans against the curved wall and raises one eyebrow. “Alistair is fast and I’m pierced. I haven’t seen what Malach’s packing, but from the size of the rest of him, I doubt Celine will have any complaints there either.”
I hide my frown. We’re more than sexually compatible, and I don’t like the insinuation that we aren’t.
I won’t contradict Luca, though. The cold fury in his voice and the crude comments.
There’s something going on here that I don’t fully understand.
He’s goading Riven to prove a point; I just don’t know what it is.
“Crass,” Riven hisses. “Typical for a basilisk.”
“Funny, because you’re boring. Even for a shuck.”
The door slams, but not before I see Riven’s face warp with rage. Half a dozen bands flicker across his living mask, the surface rippling like liquid amber.
“Luca.” I clear my throat. “In the interest of making it off this realm alive, maybe you shouldn’t call him that again.”
Luca hisses and begins to pace. In the light of the fire, he’s hanging on by a thread. I let it go, unsure how to help him calm down.
Malach moves silently to his broken cot, flips it over, and forces the mangled leg straight again. He tests the wobble, then sits. “I’m proportional,” he says quietly. “In case you were wondering.”
Luca’s mouth drops open, his right eye twitches, and I lose it, throwing my head back and laughing until my sides hurt.
We may be torn to pieces in a week or less, but I’ve never been less alone. I’m terrified of losing that. The only thing worse would be never having felt it at all.