Chapter 65
Chapter sixty-five
Seraphina
Sera couldn’t get into the tent quick enough. She was soaked from head to toe, shivering from the freezing rain or anticipation—she couldn’t decide which, and settled on both. It was definitely both.
The need between her legs was becoming unbearable, and the temptation to strip off her undergarments and relieve the ache herself was more than she’d ever admit out loud. Plus, she couldn’t stop the image of Vasso ripping those garments down with his teeth from circulating through her mind.
He barged into the tent, sopping wet, holding their soaked clothes in front of his groin in modesty, as if she hadn’t just been cupping him.
It looked like every line on his body had been placed by the goddess herself, from his chiseled abs to the V-shaped cuts around his hips. Sera licked her top lip.
“Udari la dolve, Nula.” His voice was a deep rasp. “You’re fucking breathtaking.”
“You and all these archaic words.”
He grinned. Shadow, he was gorgeous.
“Now,” she said. “Get over here and finish what you promised.”
Vasso’s eyes grew a shade of red she’d never seen before, so red they were almost black. Her toes curled as she waited for him to move.
Thunder shook the tent as Vasso took a step toward her. “Is that a demand, Nula?” He dropped their wet clothes in a heap.
Sera swallowed at the sight of him. “And what if it is?”
Another clap of thunder, and Snik barreled in. The goblin screeched and hissed, taking shelter underneath one of the cots.
“Snik!” Sera screamed, snatching a blanket and wrapping herself in it. Vasso’s posture changed. Turning away, the demon raised his head and sniffed. “Vasso?”
His head snapped to her, and she reared back at the look on his face. Every muscle was taut. Veins bulged from his neck.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
Sera blinked, and where there had been nothing but smooth pale skin over toned muscle, there was now reinforced leather. A snap of his finger, and she was dressed the same. There was no mistaking it: The padding and extra layers on her arms felt like armor.
“Vasso, tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s something foul on the wind.”
A howling gust ripped through the tent, and Snik cried. “Come here, boy.” Sera pulled the goblin to her chest.
“Stay,” was all Vasso said. Then he left.
She huffed. “What’s a witch got to do to get laid around here?”
The goblin grumbled, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
Outside the tent, the sky grew dark. Thick, angry storm clouds blotted out the dusk sky. Bolts of lightning traced their underbellies in violent succession.
Beyond the bank, the river raged. Logs floated downstream, and the onslaught of rain churned up the dirt from the riverbed, making the water muddy.
At least one of them had had the sense to get out of there in time. If she’d had her way, they’d still be wrapped in each other’s arms, floating halfway to the ocean by now.
A burst of light, then a crack, had her jumping.
“Oh, shit,” she said. Holding Snik to her, she raced to the cots on the other side of the tent, right before a tree toppled over, collapsing one of its corners.
“What is he doing out there?” she asked.
Snik cried.
“Stay here,” she yelled over the wind. “If it gets worse, you run and find a burrow or something to shelter in.”
The goblin nodded, and Sera stepped into the storm.
Rain pelted her cheeks. In the flashes of light, she searched for his white hair. This was not the way she wanted to end the day, searching for him in the dark, in the rain, during a freak storm.
As Sera crested the hill, she saw him standing defiantly in front of a giant.
She’d seen this creature before, in her tomes: the totrus. As mythical as the leviathan. The giant had three heads. The one in the center was speaking to Vasso; the other two watched, spitting flames and shards of ice. Behind it, the storm raged. Lightning pierced the ground, leaving smoke behind.
Sera ducked into the tall grass, keeping her head low. Blades of grass stung her cheeks and hands as she made her way toward him.
Whatever they were spitting at each other, Vasso was getting heated. He held out his hands, clenching his fists. Air rushed around him, tousling the tall grass. He whipped the wind into a cyclone.
“Shadow…” she said to herself. That was power, raw, unfiltered power. No witch or warlock could manipulate the weather, no matter what spell they chanted.
Sera blocked her eyes from the wind. Rain plastered everything around her, drenching the soil. Neither Vasso nor the totrus moved.
“Supay demands it,” the beast snarled at Vasso. “All demon lords are to present themselves to the steward.” The beast’s voice boomed, almost as loud as the thunder around them.
“I will go when I am damn well ready.” Cruelty underlined Vasso’s statement. It was a tone she’d never heard from him—one she never wanted to hear again—but it befit his title of a demon lord. “You tell Supay if he has an issue with it, come himself.”
The three heads snarled in unison.
Up close, she realized that the giant was at least three times taller than Vasso. Its heavy arms hung like clubs at its side. Vasso moved his own arm, and his cyclone moved with it, growing in twisting black wind.
The totrus slammed his hands to the ground, and all three mouths roared again. The head that breathed fire spat bright red flames, igniting the meadow.
Vasso snarled and moved his arm, pushing the cyclone toward the giant. “I do not wish to hurt you!” Vasso screamed over the wind. “Give Supay my message and leave me.”
The crackle of embers and heat wafted toward her on the wind.
Sera kept her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as a bolt of lightning crashed down a few feet away.
“Go back, totrus.”
“I cannot, Lord Vasso, unless you are with me.” He pounded his fist on the ground. Sera lost her balance, falling to her knees. She crawled in the grass, heading for Vasso.
“So be it,” Vasso said.
The beast swung his massive arms but missed. The lord was holding back. She’d seen what he had done to that demon horde in the woods after they’d attacked her. He could easily burn this beast to ash. So why didn’t he?
Vasso’s black flames raged in a wave to extinguish the fire the beast had set. He’d turned his head only for a second, and the totrus swung a full-grown tree like a sword.
“Vasso!” Sera screamed so hard her throat burned. He turned just in time, his eyes like red saucers, then dissolved into a puddle of mist.
Sera cursed as the giant directed his attention at her. Would she be able to face this thing on her own? She let out a breath when Vasso appeared out of a pool of darkness in front of her.
“Get back to the tent!” he screamed over the crash of thunder. “Seraphina, go!”
It was too late. The totrus ran toward them, the log high above his head. He took a mighty swing.
“Oh, Shadow,” she whispered before Vasso scooped her in his arms and twisted. Both of them flew backward. Sera screamed in agony. That bond between them ripped. His beautiful face—limp, and the totrus was reaching for him.
“No!” she screamed.
Sera ripped her arm free and threw a ball of black flame at the beast’s hand. The thing reeled back, shrieking a sound that rattled her teeth. Shimmying from underneath Vasso, she got to her feet.
A line of fire raged beyond the giant, and beyond it, the cyclone stayed in one spot, spinning—waiting for a command.
The beast watched her. All six eyes were wide, its mouths snarling as her mist poured from her arms. “You are not meant for this power,” it raged.
“Maybe not, but it’s mine now.” Sera pulled a flame in each hand. “Barijara,” she said, and her barrier snapped around her body. She wished she had her enhancer; the shield would probably last longer. But right now her only task was to prevent this thing from taking Vasso—her Vasso.
“He belongs below!”
“You will not touch him.”
The giant’s shoulders tensed, his massive knuckles turned white around the log. “I will not let a witch stand in my way.”
“Your mistake.” A whirling hiss of flame and anger ripped through her body. Drawing on that deep well of power within her, she summoned her vatra and hurled her darkness at the beast. A hiss of flames on skin steeped the air in a noxious, acrid odor.
The totrus tried to dodge but failed.
Mythical beast or not, no one was going to touch Vasso. Not unless she was dead. Spinning, she wrapped her magic around her hand, creating that scourge that had given Vasso his scar. This time, she lined it with her flame.
Sera took her place, standing guard over Vasso’s broken body. She rubbed her hand over the leather protecting her sternum, willing that pain to go away. Willing the feel of Vasso to come back, their tether to pull tight.
A trembling beneath her feet had her swaying. The totrus tumbled to the ground, momentarily knocked down by the quake. Sera dropped beside the demon lord. She wiped the rain and dirt from his forehead. “Wake up,” she said, cradling his head. “You need to wake up.”
Suddenly, Sera gasped. Her hands were on either side of his face. It had been this. This was the image she’d seen. He wouldn’t die by her hand at all… he’d die here… now.
“Don’t you dare fucking die on me.” She shook him.
A blinding blue light far to the west speared the darkness. Like a pillar, a beacon direct to the moons. Almost as soon as the pillar was there… it was gone.
The ground shook harder.
A wave of power rushed over them; her barrier disintegrated. Vibrating and volatile. The totrus screeched, and Sera covered her ears with her hands.
What a sight this made.
The flames grew and grew, devouring the meadow almost from under them. Vasso’s cyclone raged and built. The totrus bumbled to his feet.
Sera held tight to her scourge.
Destiny. You are his destiny… follow it, her magic said. Sera looked down at the limp demon lord. Use it, control it.
She placed her hand in the center of his chest. Reaching for wind, for him, she pulled, and the cyclone moved.
“Impossible,” the beast raged. “Supay will kill you.”
“Let him try.” Sera yanked hard on that magic. And just like she’d commanded the scourge in her hand—it obeyed. The twister barreled through the field, ripping the giant from the earth.
Around and around he went. Red flame and ice swirled.
“Vatera,” she said, and threw her flames into the swirling mass of wind. The beast’s howl had her wincing. In a few seconds, it was done. She’d killed it.
Seraphina fell to her knees.
“Get up,” she cried over him. The heat from the totrus’s flames grew closer.
You can do it, her magic said.
This power in her felt new, raw, and potent.
That bond between them: She reached for it, followed it with her mind, and placed her palm back on his chest. Something between them clicked, and an old, powerful magic poured into her.
She could taste the earth and the air. The crackle of lightning, even the rain in the clouds, called to her.
She was one with them, with Eraphon itself.
Hello, Osveknik. Who her magic was talking to, she had no idea.
Sera lifted her hand to the cyclone. “Quiet.” Ever so slowly, the phenomenon came to a halt, the black flame within it gone.
Coaxing her vatra against the fire, she urged her black flames to put it out. The rain had slowed, but with each push of her magic, every ember dampened. She’d never been in control like this before, never been able to stop the destruction.
When the last bit of flame was extinguished, she picked up Vasso with four tendrils of her mist and rushed to the tent.