I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands digging into his flesh, urging him on as I let the kiss deepen, my fingers tangling in his hair. Not soft like it once was.
The ground shuddered, another boulder fell. I moaned into his mouth, and I reached for my sword. Rhyan ground into me, his hips pressing down as my fingers tightened around the hilt.
I pulled it out, in one stroke, the tip of the blade suddenly pressed into his neck.
He froze and I pushed back, hard enough to draw blood.
“Lyr,” he said, a warning in his voice.
“I told you I came here to fight,” I seethed. “And take back what’s mine. Now get off me. Stand up, and I won’t cut off your head,” I bluffed.
His eyes narrowed but he sat back on his heels, and I scurried back, removing my body out from under his. My breath was coming in heavy, my fear rising to the surface. What if I missed? Gods. What if I killed him?
Because while I had no warm feelings toward the twisted monster in front of me, the one stealing Rhyan’s memories and using them against me, he was the vehicle I needed to bring him back. To restore his body. His beautiful, strong, kind loving body, the home for the soul I loved, the body of my soulmate.
Slowly, holding the sword out, I rose to my feet. Rhyan did as well, his hands raised in surrender.
I stepped forward, not sure what to do. Did I just stab him? Would he let me?
He gave me my answer with a sudden growl as he lunged. My sword swung, cutting through his arm. But he wasn’t deterred. He only looked angrier. There was a violence in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. He was past protecting me. He was fighting for his life.
I stepped back but Rhyan was already on me, trying to rip the sword from my hand. I tightened my grip, but he was using his claws to wrench it free, using all of his muscle, ruthlessly twisting my arm, forcing me to let go.
“NO!” I yelled. I heard it before I felt it. An awful bone-cracking sound.
Pain exploded like a thousand knives in my right arm. It hung uselessly at my side as the sword clanged to the ground.
Rhyan had broken my arm.
More than that, he’d broken my sword arm.
No. No. No.
I fell to the ground, trying not to vomit from the pain, reaching for the hilt with my left hand as Rhyan came down upon me. I had no time to prepare, no time to ready myself.
My arm shot up, and the blade pierced through his leathered armor. Something cried out in my heart.
He roared, his head turned up to the ceiling as he reared back.
I’d stabbed him. But not deep enough.
I crawled back to my feet, my stomach twisting with another bout of nausea, the pain in my arm exploding.
Rhyan kicked, the sole of his boot slamming into my left hand. The sword flew back on impact, my hold on the hilt hadn’t been tight enough. The red shard slid out of my grip, and the blade sliced through my hand. Blood spurted wildly, the red droplets mixing with the red shard, sinking into the red crystal.
In seconds I’d be weaponless, both hands useless.
This was it. He was going to kill me. My heart thrummed, pulsing a million beats at once, like it could make up for all the time it was about to lose.
And then, just as I was about to give in, light illuminated the blade. It glowed with a bright fiery red, nearly blinding in color—brighter and more vibrant than anything I’d ever seen. Without warning, my mind flashed to another time. Another life. A great hall of golden columns, set against a blue sky and rainbow-colored clouds. Music hummed in my ears, an otherworldly harmony, haunting in its beauty. A brilliant luminescent light glimmered and shone above me. For a moment, I felt at peace. Whole and without pain.
I was in the Hall of Records.
Watching the Valalumir.
A head of golden curls peeked out from behind a column.
His green eyes found mine, shimmering with light and love.
