Chapter 29 - Chelsea
Chelsea
Claws.
All I see are razor-sharp claws that slam onto the mattress and pull, tearing it to shreds with one swipe.
I scream and scramble backward, falling off the bed.
The creature roars. It’s so dark in this room that the thing is all shadows and sharp edges—too big, too wrong. Nightmare-made.
From the corner of the room, Echo barks. The creature swings its massive body toward the shadow pup.
No!
I grab the closest thing—a lamp—and throw it at the creature. It hits the monster’s back and explodes into a thousand fragments.
Oh shit.
I’m in trouble.
The monster lunges for me. I dodge left but it's faster than I am. Claws rake my back, and pain sears into me, white-hot and burning.
I stumble but keep moving, pointed toward the door. If I can just get there.
It cuts me off.
No.
The creature looms over me, approaching slowly, knowing it has me trapped. Its mouth opens and the rankest sulfur smell hits me in the face.
Sharp fangs, each as long as my finger, drip with saliva.
No one’s coming to save me.
I lift my hand, calling my magic. Gold light flickers at my fingertips—
“Creature!”
The command booms from the doorway, doubled, echoing with power that makes the walls shake.
The beast stops. Turns.
And there stands Eryx—tall, shirtless, eyes black with fury.
“You will not hurt her.” His voice—it must be both his and Nightmare's speaking as one—vibrates with barely contained rage.
The sound makes me want to cower, but his attention isn’t fixed on me. It’s fixed on the monster—saliva dripping from its fangs and claws long and extended, ready to shred anything in its path.
The creature lifts its head and roars. My heart goes still as it lunges for Eryx.
Everything happens so fast that my eyes and brain can barely keep up—but I do, and what I see changes everything.
Eryx lifts his hand, and as if he’s a magnet, shadows stop flickering like they’re anticipating what’s about to happen.
Then that darkness, the shadows and stillness, race toward Eryx, and he pulls them into himself.
For a split second the room goes pale. And the power—the energy completely shifts into Eryx as he calls the very darkness that holds the room captive—into himself.
The monster swipes his hand across Eryx and I gasp. Half a second later the air contracts like it’s bending, and all the darkness Eryx pulled in releases.
Something tightens in my chest because Eryx doesn’t look like Eryx anymore. All the shadows grow out of him, and he looks like the angel of death.
Then the image is gone and the darkness rams straight into the beast.
It releases a howl so intense I cover my ears. Then, over the agony, the creature’s bones crack, one by one, until it falls in a heap on the floor and vanishes.
Eryx still stands in the doorway. His chest is bleeding where the monster swiped him, and he’s breathing heavily.
He stares at where the monster stood a moment ago, his eyes narrowed as if making sure it won’t come back.
The only sound in the room is Echo whimpering in the corner. Seeming to sense the danger is over, she meekly steps out and goes to Eryx.
His gaze drops to the dog briefly as if confirming it’s safe; then he looks at me, and my breath catches because his eyes have returned to their crystal blue hue. But more than that—they’re filled with worry.
For me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, swaying.
“You’re hurt.”
“Are you okay?” he asks again, firmly.
I nod, but I’m okay isn’t what I want or even need to say. My mind keeps circling the power it took him to pull in those shadows and how he looked when they erupted out of him.
Before I can stop myself, the words come out. “That was… You’re beautiful.”
Not the shadows. Not the power. Him. The man who just fought a monster for me. The man who's standing here bleeding and asking if I'm okay.
Him.
But no man wants to be called beautiful. He’ll probably laugh, turn away. Shake his head.
But that isn’t what he does.
Eryx crosses to me with calm, deliberate steps, and stops when we’re only a hairbreadth apart.
Even now he looms over me, his shadow slicing across my face.
“Say it again,” he commands quietly.
I look up at him—he’s badly wounded. I reach up to touch him, to offer some comfort, but he takes my hand in his to stop me.
“Say it.”
I swallow a lump in my throat and squeak out, “You’re beautiful.”
Before I even know what’s happening, his lips are on mine, claiming me, commanding me to kiss him back.
And I do.
His hands cradle my face, and he steps closer, our chests touching. My back aches from where the creature clawed me, and I know Eryx must be in agony. Blood covers his entire chest—too much blood. It's still flowing from the claw marks, dripping at his feet.
But he still kisses me deeper, harder, sliding his tongue into my mouth and moaning as he tastes me.
My back screams in protest where the claws raked me. The pain should stop this—should make me pull away. But adrenaline floods my system, dulling everything except him.
His mouth. His hands. The way he's kissing me like I'm oxygen and he's drowning.
And I match his fire, his yearning, everything.
Our magic stirs—gold brushing against shadow, tentative. Not the overwhelming surge from before. Just…aware.
Waiting. Like it knows this is only the beginning.
The kiss is rough, passionate, claiming.
Within seconds I’m drunk off Eryx Nightshade.
When he finally breaks away, he rests his forehead on mine, both of us breathing hard. He touches my face. His fingers tremble.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs, like he’s not only trying to convince me but also convince himself.
“So are you,” I whisper.
He pulls back to look at me, and something in his expression softens, opens.
Then he closes his eyes and falls.