Chapter 29
Elowyn
My cheeks heated as Ezra and Farris turned from the sight of me bent over the table with Abram buried inside of me.
Shame and power warred inside my chest, heat flooding through me, not just from embarrassment but from the raw, consuming awareness that they had seen what Abram made of me. What I let him make of me.
My gaze moved to Philip who stared at me with so much hatred that it was almost palpable. His glare cut through me like a blade, but instead of shrinking beneath it, something inside me rose—defiant, cruel, wanting him to suffer for ever thinking I could belong to him.
I smiled at him. A slow, knowing smile that promised I’d already chosen my side, and it wasn’t his.
Abram slid out of me and turned me so he could kiss me.
My breath caught, the space between us electric, thick with everything we’d broken to be here.
This kiss was different, claiming and right.
The world felt right again because he was with me, he chose me.
Every fracture in me seemed to knit itself together beneath his mouth, each breath shared like a vow whispered against my lips.
My hands ran up his chest and pulled him to me, deepening the kiss.
I didn’t care who was watching anymore. Let them all see that Abram and I were beyond redemption.
Abram looked at me before glancing down to my chest. His fingers curled around the collar of my dress and pulled it down.
The fabric rasped against my skin, my pulse hammering beneath his touch.
He looked up at me when he saw my broken marriage bond.
His fingers traced it, and I felt it humming against his touch.
The magic in me shivered, recognizing him.
A tremor ran through my body, both pain and longing tangled together.
He leaned down and kissed where it was broken before running his tongue over my skin.
My breath hitched, my hands trembling as his mouth lingered there—devotion twisted into possession.
He smiled against me when I sighed. His eyes were on Philip, as his tongue traced the lines of our marriage bond.
His teeth pressed into my flesh as a searing pain tore through me. He pulled back and smiled. "Better."
I gasped, touching the spot as warmth pulsed beneath my fingertips. I looked down and saw he fixed the bond so it wasn’t broken any longer. It glowed faintly, whole again. Abram had rewritten the mark to mean his. My heart thudded.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Loma’s voice instantly pissed me off.
I turned and saw that she was watching Abram and I without a single fuck. Her eyes gleamed with amusement, lips curled like she was watching a predictable tragedy unfold. She looked at Philip and sighed heavily.
“Release him,” Loma demanded.
“No.” Abram scoffed. His voice cut through the tension, sharp and final. He didn’t even look at her. He didn’t need to. His defiance was its own declaration.
“Farris, come here.” Loma smiled, and Farris immediately moved toward her. Something in Farris’ expression flickered, like she was being pulled by invisible strings. My stomach turned uneasily.
Farris closed her eyes like she was trying to fight something we couldn’t see. I watched her closely.
“Take that magic off of him.”
Farris turned toward Philip, and at first I wondered how she’d overpower Abram’s magic but she just looked at Abram. Her eyes sparkling with something like an enchantment.
“Release him, Abram. It’s alright,” she spoke.
Abram stared at her like he was seeing straight through her but to my surprise, he did as she asked.
A ripple of confusion passed over his face, like he’d lost control for a breath.
I’d never seen that happen to him before.
It scared me. When Farris looked away from Abram, he snapped out of it and shook his head.
“What the fuck did you just do to me, Farris?” he asked.
Philip grabbed Farris by the neck and pulled her to him, whispering something. Her face went still, drained of all color. Then he turned her so her back was against him. Loma handed him a dagger, and he held it against her throat. Farris exhaled a shaky breath but didn’t fight back.
“Seems my wife is a manipulative, back-stabbing whore,” he snapped.
But he was staring at Ezra. He wanted to piss Ezra off, and he succeeded. The air shifted, thickening, charged like before a storm. My pulse stuttered as something ancient and violent stirred behind Ezra’s eyes.
They swirled crimson, but then turned solid black as he blinked slowly. His entire body seemed to get bigger. He was definitely taller, and his muscles strained through his now too-tight tunic.
The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as his power unfurled.
Red mist seeped from him, swirling around his feet and creeping up his body.
He bared his teeth as fangs poked through.
His hands flexed as razor-sharp claws formed.
I stepped back and into Abram. He grabbed me and held me against him.
“It’s alright; he won’t hurt us.” Abram tried to help calm me down, but my body trembled at the sight of the demon-god in front of me. Every instinct screamed to run, but the weight of Abram’s arm kept me anchored.
Ezra cocked his head to the side and stared at Loma and Philip. Their mouths fell open, clearly not expecting that.
“Disgusting,” Loma muttered.
Philip stared at him with hate as he turned so Farris was staring at Ezra.
“Look at him. That is the man you love, a beast,” he said to Farris, and I knew he wanted her to be scared of Ezra.
But Farris looked at him and smiled fondly. “I know; isn’t he magnificent?” she said proudly.
The tenderness in her voice broke through the chaos like a prayer, and even through my fear, I felt something ache in my chest. Ezra let out a feral, animalistic noise at her praise.
He stepped toward her but stopped when Philip tightened the dagger against her throat.
She winced in pain. The red mist around him surged, trembling with fury, the air itself trembling with his restraint.
“Tell him you don’t want him,” Philip demanded. She shook her head and refused. “It’s not like he wants you anyways.” Philip laughed.
The sound tore through me like a blade. My chest tightened, breath quickening as something ancient and wrong stirred beneath my skin. Nyxthra hissed inside me. She was loud, hungry, and eager. She wanted blood. And for once, I didn’t push it down.
Fury unraveled inside of me. It wasn’t the kind that burned, it consumed. My vision bled white around the edges as my pulse thundered in my ears. This was who the heavens thought was my other half? This pathetic, cruel man? This mockery of a bond?
Loma turned to me and sneered. I stilled as Abram’s fingers curled into me as she watched us.
“Reject her,” I demanded.
“Gods can’t reject mates,” he answered back. “The heavens do not allow it.”
Loma’s pretty face darkened with cruelty.
“Do you hear that, Elowyn? Abram is all mine, and nothing is going to change that.”
I stared at her, and something inside me snapped.
My magic was boiling in my veins as I watched her.
The longer I watched, the more uncomfortable she was becoming.
Her cruel little smirk faltered. Her eyes flicked between mine and Abram’s, and I saw it then, she felt it too.
The pressure in the air, the pulse of something not divine but monstrous.
The air thickened, the shadows in the corners of the room quivered. My power was no longer mine alone.
“Elowyn,” Abram’s voice was low, wary, but distant like he was speaking through fog. “You made a very stupid mistake,” he said to Loma.
I didn’t hear him. Couldn’t. Nyxthra was awake inside of my veins.
The lights flickered. The air went cold.
My breath came out in a shuddering hiss as my shadow rose off the floor, splitting from me—long, lean, and burning at the edges like black fire.
The wraith moved behind me, its shape almost human, almost me.
Its face was blurred, but its grin was unmistakable.
It reached for me, smoke fingers touching my jaw.
My magic roared to life—crimson and black veins of power crawling up my arms, wrapping my fingers in firelight.
Loma’s lips parted in shock. “What the hell are you—”
Her words turned into a scream as Nyxthra’s hand shot out, slamming her into the wall with invisible force. Blood spattered the stones as her body cracked against it. I stepped forward slowly, voice trembling with the weight of power I no longer cared to control.
I forced her to look at Abram. “Does that man look like he gives a fuck about you?”
Loma’s nails clawed at her throat as the wraith’s smoky hand wrapped around it, squeezing. I could feel it, her heartbeat, her fear, like it was pulsing in my own veins. Nyxthra fed on it, and so I fed on it.
“Stop—please—,” she choked, but her eyes were wide with realization. I was no holy creature. I was ruin made flesh.
“No.” I smiled in her face.
Abram’s voice reached me again, strained and almost reverent. “Look at how magnificent my wife is, Loma. Make no mistake that if the heavens would let me, I’d reject you in the same fashion that Elowyn rejected your pathetic brother.”
Gods, my insides coiled with heat at his words.
“You crazy bitch,” she growled, forcing the words through clenched teeth, posturing as if rage alone could make her powerful.
I didn’t give her time to finish the thought.
With a flick of my hand, the wraith’s claws tore through her chest. The sound was wet and final.
Fabric split, skin followed, and blood poured freely as her body failed her all at once.
Her insides spilled through the wounds, steam rising faintly as they hit the stone.
She collapsed in a broken heap, eyes glassy, lips parted in a silent scream that never came.