I watched as, in excruciating, sluggish detail, Melek stumbled a half-step, made a strangled noise, then grabbed the handle of the spear just below the wicked, foot-long blade, where it protruded from his shirt, positioned oh-so-accurately right between his ribs.
“JANN! NOOOOO!”
Still pushing through clinging mud, my head turned instinctively to see Diadre’s tormented face, lined and pale, as she grabbed for her mate.
Jann stood frozen, holding the end of the spear—his eyes too big, his body trembling—as Melek’s muscles flexed and he inexorably yanked it from his chest, dropping the weapon to the carpet.
Then, my precious mate lifted his hand to that spot in his chest suddenly pouring red. “Holy shit…” he croaked. “T-too deep.”
He sagged to his knees, and time returned to its normal passing—far, far too fast.
Jann dropped the spear with a thud, then caught Diadre as she threw herself at him, screaming, pummeling him with her fists.
“No! No! NO!”
Her torment was nothing alongside the horror now painting my skin, as I threw myself to the floor next to Melek, who swayed on his knees and began to topple.
I tried to catch him, desperately scrambling to remember what I’d been taught was the correct response in the field to a stab wound to the chest—shit, we should have left the spear in. Do I lay him on his side, or his back?
My hands trembled so hard, it took two tries to grasp his shirt—my breath shuddering. But, I was too late. Melek tipped heavily onto his back, his legs folded and bent, pushed sideways by his awkward fall. His hands flapped weakly.
“Melek! Melek, look at me!” Instead he only stared at the ceiling, choking, and no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t lift him or turn him. “Jann,” I gasped. “Jann,help me!”
But when I turned to look, Jann just stared, his eyes wide and unseeing. He stumbled back, pulling Diadre with him, who wept an ocean, still pounding him with her fists.
Diadre was not a weak woman. Jann was forced to catch her wrists, and manacle them in his hands to stop her—but he never took his eyes from Melek.
Hands pressed to Melek’s wound, I leaned on him to keep the pressure as firm as I was capable, and searched his eyes, pleading with him to see me. Deep in my chest, I could feelMelekdraining away.
Panic. Pure, undiluted panic.
“Yesss…”
The insidious hiss came from Lucifer.
My head snapped up. He stood over this scene, eyes bright and his smile lascivious. Then his eyes snapped to mine and locked, and his smile broadened.
In my fear, only one thought screamed in my head.
The power of life and death.
For one, endless moment, I grasped—he can do it. He can save Melek like he did Gall—but the moment I opened my mouth with the plea on my tongue, Isawhim.
The Fallen stood aside in this carnage—friends,brotherskilling each other. Panic and fear. Mates devastated. Hearts darkened—and his expression was nothing short ofdelight.
The sight of Melek’s impending death, and Jann’s devastation pleased him. It threw fuel on the fire in his eyes, and sparkedecstasy.
The avid gleam, the hunger in his eyes, thepleasureat the sight of Melek dying, and Jann’s terror, made me recoil.
Then, my precious mate’s deep, ragged voice echoed in my head.
‘Even death isn’t worth giving yourself to him. Don’t give in. If it’s meant to be…’
His voice in my head faded, and my terror shot to the skies.“MELEK!”
But he couldn’t focus. He blinked over and over, and there was a smear of blood on his lips.
I wept, leaning over him, my palms still pressed to that wound, but helpless to do anything but watch him fade.
