And he’d taken—he’d taken—No. No. No.
Rhyan was leaning back on our bed, one leg stretched out long, the other bent, his arm resting on his knee. In his hand was the red shard. His long, clawed akadim fingers wrapped around its hilt and he was swinging it carelessly up and down, letting the blade arc over me.
I shifted back, as much as I could, my heart pounding. The blade moved over me again with another absent-minded swing.
His red akadim eyes glowed as they ran up and down my body—and I swore I could feel everywhere he looked. Feel my skin tingling, and growing cold. Colder than I already was. He hadn’t put a blanket over me, and without my cloak, I could feel just how low the temperature was in here.
Rhyan wore a silver collar around his neck, and a black leather vest across his torso—similar in style to the armor he’d always worn—always favored. Instead of his soturion cloak wrapped around his waist, he wore black fitted pants, and black leather boots. All at once I took him in. His monstrous appearance, the way he’d grown in size in every way—he was at least a foot taller than he’d been the last time I saw him. His muscles had sharpened and widened. And red lines crossed overhis skin, which was so much paler than it had been. It even crossed into the wings of his tattoo, the ink stretched now over too much skin.
He grinned, the sight monstrous as two long sharpened fangs glistened across his lips. His nostrils flared, his red eyes glowing.
I struggled to come into a seat, spotting my weapons in a small corner just beyond the bed. They’d been neatly laid out in a row—too neatly. Just like Rhyan would have done. He’d always been neat, always carefully arranging things. It was how I’d known I’d woken up in his room at Seathorne. It had smelled like him, felt like him. But even if it hadn’t—I would have known. And looking at the items here, forgetting where I was, what he was—all I saw was him. Rhyan. My Rhyan.
My heart panged. All these little details. Gods. They were still there. These small parts of him that I loved, that were part of what made him who he was. His lilt, the way he organized things so precisely. It was like he was still him. Still Rhyan.
But this wasn’t him. And it was my fault. My lip trembled. Because that was all there was. Not his soul, his warmth, his love … They were gone. And I had to remember that.
But I also needed to remember that I was going to be the reason he was saved. I was going to be the reason that the parts of him that he’d lost, that I’d lost, were brought back. I just had to survive.
I’d never reach the shard with my arms bound, not with his body blocking the blade. But, if I could leap off the bed, I could rush to my weapons corner and reach for a sword—no, I’d be too slow. He’d be on me before I could cut myself free. And that was if I could even figure out how to grab a blade with my restraints. If I was going to free myself like this I needed time. Time I didn’t have—not as long as he was in the room with me.
I could try to call onRakashonim.But that felt foolish. The power was great—but volatile, and I still didn’t have control overit. I couldn’t be sure if it would come, how hard it would hit me, or how quickly it would go through me. Not without the shard in my hand to temper it.
He clicked his tongue, looking pointedly at my weapons, then back to me, meeting my eyes. He shook his head.
“I know what you’re thinking, what you’re plotting. Give it up,” he growled. “You’d never make it in time.”
My stomach twisted. “Oh?”
“You’re fast,” he said. “I remember.” He licked his lips. “But not fast enough. You wouldn’t get past me. And come on, do you really think I’d let you?” He shook his head again. “I wouldn’t. And even if by the damned Gods you managed it, this mountain is full of akadim. They’d have you captured and laid at my feet in seconds. One order from me is all it would take. Trust me. You don’t want to test that theory. All the akadim in this mountain are not just loyal to me, they’re bound to me, to their Arkturion.” He sounded proud.
My chest heaved, my pulse racing too fast. “I-I heard about that.Tovayah maischaon your promotion.”
He chuckled cruelly, sitting all the way up, his eyes running up and down the blade. It glowed red, catching the faint light of the fire. He tilted his head, and swung it again, the blade arcing just over my body.
“I don’t remember this,” he frowned. “Your other effects I know. But not this one. Where did you get it?”
“It’s um … a long story,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Was it that soturion I saw you with? The blond one fighting for you?”
“Yes,” I said, before I could think better of it. I dared to look at Rhyan, meeting his eyes, and asked, “What happened to him?”
He shrugged, nonchalantly, like he wasn’t at all concerned. “Ran off. If he comes back, we’ll find him.” His eyes were fixedon the blade, he was turning every which way, examining it from every angle, letting the steel catch the firelight, and then the reflection of his face. His monstrous face.
I tucked that piece of information away. Auriel hadn’t been caught. Auriel was still out there. That was good. He’d come for me. Why did Rhyan seem so unbothered? Was that because he didn’t see him as a threat? Was he that confident? Yes. After all, he’d captured me.
He turned the shard in his hand again, he seemed mesmerized by the crystal, his cure, and rested the blunt side of the blade against his knee. “So red,” he said. “And bright.”
I sucked in a breath. “It is.”
“Too bright.” He pulled his gaze away and looked toward me again. There was a light in his eyes, glistening in a way that made my heart stop. That reminded me that he was a predator. And I was the prey.
He started to inch across the bed toward me. There wasn’t far to go. He was already taking up nearly all of the space there was. My throat dried as he settled the sword down, carefully placing it on his other side. I stilled as he reached for me. His hand grasped my shoulder, gripping it painfully.
My heart sank. “Rhyan? What are you?—”
He pushed me down, and I landed on my back, my arms and hands crushed beneath me.
