Chapter 11
ACKER
I can’t fucking believe what I’m seeing.
The little I’m able to make out in the darkness, anyway. The only detailed glimpses I’m afforded are when Jovie swings the glowing blade in her hand, her illuminated strikes highlighting the severe expression on her face in quick flashes, her teeth bared, eyes deadly.
I’d be amazed if she wasn’t outnumbered by hundreds.
What the hell was she thinking, storming the Strou in their caves by herself?
Oh, excuse me.
Not by herself.
The fucking bastard with her obviously helped facilitate this half-cocked plan to … I don’t even know. Get themselves killed? There doesn’t seem to be an outcome that doesn’t end with both of them dead.
A warrior bumps into me, which knocks him off balance and he flails in the dark to find the cause for his stumble.
When he comes up empty, unable to see my Bond-projection form, he blindly swings his sword in my general direction.
Annoyed, I jerk the sword from his flailing hand and grab him by the front of his armor to keep him steady when I slice his neck open.
The other men around me hear their comrade dying, can hear the loud gurgling as he drowns in his own blood, but with the only source of light coming from the middle of the melee almost fifty feet away, they can’t determine the cause.
All they know is there’s another threat somewhere and it diverts their attention away from Jovie, sending many of the warriors scrambling to find it.
And, of fucking course, Irina chooses right now to call to me, her worried voice pulling my consciousness back to my body, back to my bedroom where I’m standing at my desk.
Her hair is mussed from sleep, robe dipping from her shoulder as she stands before me, hand outstretched as if she were on the verge of touching me.
Her dazed eyes take me in, from my heaving chest to my unadorned neck, before dropping to where the string of mangi stones lay strewn on my desk after I hastily ripped them off. “Everything okay?” she asks.
I don’t have time for this.
Heart thundering, I reach for the shirt I discarded on the floor, and pull it over my head.
A stabbing sensation sends fire through my chest, and I choke out my next breath.
The oath reminding me of my promise. Irina calls out to me again, pleading for me to tell her what’s wrong, but I ignore her as I march out of the door.
I don’t go far, choosing to escape into the nearby hidden passage before allowing the tether to yank me back to Jovie.
This time I’m closer to the fray. Bodies of warriors pound into me from all sides, but none of them are concerned by the invisible force they’re knocking into.
They can’t be, with the threat of the burning sword in Jovie’s hand so close, her companion cutting down any she may miss—and she doesn’t miss often.
Jovie is a sight to behold. Small, but so precise in her movements. She doesn’t hold back; no hesitation in her eyes as she wields the shining weapon. The warriors’ screams don’t faze her as the burning iron sizzles across flesh and bone, its heat hot enough to singe hair and skin from a distance.
But as marvelous she is to observe, my stomach revolts at the same time.
I’ve fought alongside and against a handful of soldiers who had the very same look on their face that Jovie wears now, and none of them are alive today. They fought without fear, that vital piece it takes to survive battles much like this one. I don’t see an ounce of it in her intense gaze.
That is, until she senses my presence, head whipping in my direction.
She can’t see me, however, lost as I am amidst the mass of warriors and darkness beyond her sword’s range.
But she knows. Must know considering the Bond’s insistence in taking any chance it’s given to reunite us, the tether a burden even now when our lives are at risk.
I force myself back into my body, leaving her presence.
Distracting her is the absolute last thing I need.
Not for her well-being and the blood oath I swore, but also for my sanity.
I let my back hit the stone wall inside the hidden passage, gulping down deep breaths of the stagnant air.
My anger has subsided, replaced by an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
The pounding of the blood in my veins drowns out my thoughts as I concentrate on the tether, knowing it will reveal whether she needs me.
The fuck is wrong with me?
I always thought her demise would bring me happiness, knowing it would have to come by happenstance or at the hands of someone other than myself.
Yet, here I am, worried sick over what I just witnessed.
I tell myself it’s due to fear of the oath’s retribution.
There’s no telling if the Mother would consider me at fault if Jovie were to die at the hands of men I’ve placed in her path.
But even if I somehow outmaneuvered the oath’s hold on me, I’m not so sure I’d survive her death.
Or worse, if I’d even want to.
Another piercing pain propels me back down the tether.
Not my pain, but Jovie’s, a gash visible across her cheek when she swings her sword in her attacker’s direction.
Whatever pain he caused her is short-lived, the wound already healing as she continues her fight through the throng of warriors.
If she feels my presence this time, she doesn’t let on.
For hours, I continue volleying back and forth along the tether.
I do it for so long that I’m no longer able to tell what time of day it is, knowing only that I left my bedchambers well after midnight.
Fatigue has me slumping to the floor, but I don’t let it overtake me.
And I realize … that even after everything she’s done …
I’ll never abandon her.
I can’t.