Burning Dawn
Page 95
“Hardly. You taste the truth of my words, I’m sure. I ran into Bjorn outside, and Xerxes in the hallway. Both had very weak bone structure...and when I left them, both had holes in their chests.”
“No!” The word roared from Thane, a denial that sprang from deep, deep inside, where survival met the core of his being. The thought of losing his friends... No.
“Oh, yes.”
“I taste no lie—you’re right about that. You left them with broken bones and holes in their chests. But that doesn’t mean they’re dead. They’ve recovered from worse.”
Irritated, Malice snapped, “Time will tell.” Then he calmed and added, “They distracted you from our game...as did your female.”
Thane renewed his struggles, his flesh biting into the metal cuffs. What little strength he had left rapidly drained. “Don’t touch her. Don’t you dare touch her.”
The prince patted his cheek, and the contact blistered more than an acid bath. “Oh, I touched her. And more. I can hardly wait to show you the end result of my actions.”
The relish in his tone was frightening, but his words were downright terrifying. “What did you do?” Thane croaked. “What did you do!”
“Don’t worry, Sent One. She’ll live.”
Again, he tasted no lie. He sagged against the mattress. He could deal with anything except her death.
Malice stalked around the bed, once, twice. “Your army is on its way. Did you know that? Did you call them? Your friends did. But my minions will hold the warriors off until I’m finished here.”
So cocky. “You underestimate our strength.”
A tinkling laugh. “Surely you see the irony of your statement.”
He did. But he didn’t care.
He’d spent his life bucking against the authority of a leader—any leader. That was how he’d ended up with Zacharel, the coldest of the cold, part of an army the rest of their world considered one step above useless and best forgotten.
Those soldiers would fight for him and those he loved with the same fervency as Bjorn and Xerxes. Like Elin, they had become his family.
“You don’t stand a chance,” Thane said confidently.
Malice waved the words away. “I’ll be long gone before your friends are even able to enter the castle.” His ear twitched, and he nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent. I think your Elin is on her way.”
Elin!
“Run,” Thane shouted. “Elin, run!”
“She can’t,” the prince said with a smile straight from the depths of his worst nightmares.
She dashed around the corner and entered the room wearing Bjorn’s robe. Thane experienced a wealth of emotion. Joy that she lived. Anger that she had been placed in this situation. Desperation to whisk her away to safety. Fear for Bjorn.
Her gaze met his, only to skid away quickly.
Still upset about what she’d seen?
Or upset about what had happened to his friend?
“Run,” he commanded. “Please.”
“Uh, uh, uh,” Malice tsked. “Stay.”
She stayed. Head bowed. Shoulders stooped. A pose of submission.
Something inside Thane’s chest clenched. Her hair appeared lighter, he realized—because it was threaded with flames. And her once smoked-glass eyes now blazed and crackled with orange fire.
She was a Phoenix.
And she still wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Did she think he would reject her?
How could he? She was a beautiful, fearsome sight. And she was still his kulta. Now and always.
“I love you, Elin. With all that I am. No matter what.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Let him go,” she demanded of the prince, the hem of the robe swaying on the floor as she shifted from one foot to the other. “Please.”
“I don’t think I will, but I do thank you for the suggestion.” Malice rubbed his hands together, and with his gaze locked on Thane, he said, “I wonder if your love will turn to hate when you learn your woman is now blessed with the same ability your Kendra possessed.”
Thane merely blinked. Kulta. I don’t care. Do you hear me?
She was alive. Nothing else mattered.
His lack of reaction angered the prince.
Malice whirled on Elin, who’d stood utterly still during his speech. “Did your clothes burn away, little one? Did you steal a robe from a dead man, not wanting me to see the body I will soon rip asunder? How novel.” He tore the material off her, leaving her naked.
Thane tried to reach for her, desperate to shield her. And for a moment, he was transported back to the demon dungeon, Bjorn dangling over him, Xerxes raped across from him. Thane, seemingly forgotten, while all too present in that hell.
“Don’t you dare hurt her. Hurt me. Hurt me however you desire. Just let her go.”
“Hurt you?” Malice winked at him. “From what I hear, you’d like it.”
“Thane,” Elin said before he could reply, her tone trembling. “Don’t worry about me, all right? I’ll be okay. And...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about what happened earlier. I trust you. I do. And I love you. I love you so much.”
Words he’d longed to hear—words that eased something inside him, even as they razed the worst of his protective instincts. Don’t be sorry, he tried to project to her. Survive.
“How adorable.” The prince held out his hand. A sword appeared. “You love her. She loves you. Now, you can watch her die.”
“No,” Thane shouted, trying again to reach for her.
A shudder moved through Elin’s body. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You just—”
Malice stabbed her in the heart, silencing her with an agonized gasp.
Snarling, Thane yanked so hard at his chains, the entire bed shook. Elin fell, crashing into the floor. She didn’t move.
Knowing she was now fully Phoenix did nothing to temper his reaction. His woman was a boneless heap, blood pooling around her, and it destroyed him. Fury was a storm, uncontrollable and wild, flooding him with adrenaline and, finally, the necessary strength. As Elin caught fire and burned to ash in mere seconds—the fastest regeneration he’d ever seen—he split the head-and footboard with the force of his struggles. The links gave way at last, freeing him.
He jolted upright, watching as the fire expanded. In the center of the flames, Elin appeared in a burst of light. He was relieved. He was angry. How she must have suffered. Must be suffering.
“No!” The word roared from Thane, a denial that sprang from deep, deep inside, where survival met the core of his being. The thought of losing his friends... No.
“Oh, yes.”
“I taste no lie—you’re right about that. You left them with broken bones and holes in their chests. But that doesn’t mean they’re dead. They’ve recovered from worse.”
Irritated, Malice snapped, “Time will tell.” Then he calmed and added, “They distracted you from our game...as did your female.”
Thane renewed his struggles, his flesh biting into the metal cuffs. What little strength he had left rapidly drained. “Don’t touch her. Don’t you dare touch her.”
The prince patted his cheek, and the contact blistered more than an acid bath. “Oh, I touched her. And more. I can hardly wait to show you the end result of my actions.”
The relish in his tone was frightening, but his words were downright terrifying. “What did you do?” Thane croaked. “What did you do!”
“Don’t worry, Sent One. She’ll live.”
Again, he tasted no lie. He sagged against the mattress. He could deal with anything except her death.
Malice stalked around the bed, once, twice. “Your army is on its way. Did you know that? Did you call them? Your friends did. But my minions will hold the warriors off until I’m finished here.”
So cocky. “You underestimate our strength.”
A tinkling laugh. “Surely you see the irony of your statement.”
He did. But he didn’t care.
He’d spent his life bucking against the authority of a leader—any leader. That was how he’d ended up with Zacharel, the coldest of the cold, part of an army the rest of their world considered one step above useless and best forgotten.
Those soldiers would fight for him and those he loved with the same fervency as Bjorn and Xerxes. Like Elin, they had become his family.
“You don’t stand a chance,” Thane said confidently.
Malice waved the words away. “I’ll be long gone before your friends are even able to enter the castle.” His ear twitched, and he nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent. I think your Elin is on her way.”
Elin!
“Run,” Thane shouted. “Elin, run!”
“She can’t,” the prince said with a smile straight from the depths of his worst nightmares.
She dashed around the corner and entered the room wearing Bjorn’s robe. Thane experienced a wealth of emotion. Joy that she lived. Anger that she had been placed in this situation. Desperation to whisk her away to safety. Fear for Bjorn.
Her gaze met his, only to skid away quickly.
Still upset about what she’d seen?
Or upset about what had happened to his friend?
“Run,” he commanded. “Please.”
“Uh, uh, uh,” Malice tsked. “Stay.”
She stayed. Head bowed. Shoulders stooped. A pose of submission.
Something inside Thane’s chest clenched. Her hair appeared lighter, he realized—because it was threaded with flames. And her once smoked-glass eyes now blazed and crackled with orange fire.
She was a Phoenix.
And she still wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Did she think he would reject her?
How could he? She was a beautiful, fearsome sight. And she was still his kulta. Now and always.
“I love you, Elin. With all that I am. No matter what.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Let him go,” she demanded of the prince, the hem of the robe swaying on the floor as she shifted from one foot to the other. “Please.”
“I don’t think I will, but I do thank you for the suggestion.” Malice rubbed his hands together, and with his gaze locked on Thane, he said, “I wonder if your love will turn to hate when you learn your woman is now blessed with the same ability your Kendra possessed.”
Thane merely blinked. Kulta. I don’t care. Do you hear me?
She was alive. Nothing else mattered.
His lack of reaction angered the prince.
Malice whirled on Elin, who’d stood utterly still during his speech. “Did your clothes burn away, little one? Did you steal a robe from a dead man, not wanting me to see the body I will soon rip asunder? How novel.” He tore the material off her, leaving her naked.
Thane tried to reach for her, desperate to shield her. And for a moment, he was transported back to the demon dungeon, Bjorn dangling over him, Xerxes raped across from him. Thane, seemingly forgotten, while all too present in that hell.
“Don’t you dare hurt her. Hurt me. Hurt me however you desire. Just let her go.”
“Hurt you?” Malice winked at him. “From what I hear, you’d like it.”
“Thane,” Elin said before he could reply, her tone trembling. “Don’t worry about me, all right? I’ll be okay. And...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about what happened earlier. I trust you. I do. And I love you. I love you so much.”
Words he’d longed to hear—words that eased something inside him, even as they razed the worst of his protective instincts. Don’t be sorry, he tried to project to her. Survive.
“How adorable.” The prince held out his hand. A sword appeared. “You love her. She loves you. Now, you can watch her die.”
“No,” Thane shouted, trying again to reach for her.
A shudder moved through Elin’s body. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You just—”
Malice stabbed her in the heart, silencing her with an agonized gasp.
Snarling, Thane yanked so hard at his chains, the entire bed shook. Elin fell, crashing into the floor. She didn’t move.
Knowing she was now fully Phoenix did nothing to temper his reaction. His woman was a boneless heap, blood pooling around her, and it destroyed him. Fury was a storm, uncontrollable and wild, flooding him with adrenaline and, finally, the necessary strength. As Elin caught fire and burned to ash in mere seconds—the fastest regeneration he’d ever seen—he split the head-and footboard with the force of his struggles. The links gave way at last, freeing him.
He jolted upright, watching as the fire expanded. In the center of the flames, Elin appeared in a burst of light. He was relieved. He was angry. How she must have suffered. Must be suffering.
