She stared up at Dilys, anchoring her gaze to his as the pain swamped her. She started to shake. She was scraped raw, her nerves lying so close to the surface, her control a thin, brittle shield, rapidly cracking now as the shocking news of her sisters’ deaths rapidly escalated to an emotional agony the likes of which she hadn’t felt since the day her mother died. The pain stole her breath and clenched around her heart like a steely fist.
This was precisely the sort of pain she’d spent her whole life trying to avoid ever feeling again, precisely the sort of pain that had made her fight so hard against letting Dilys into her heart. It hurt. It hurt so much.
Pressure built as her magic bubbled up, slamming against her fragile shields, seeking release just like the scream gathering in her throat and the tears gathering in her eyes.
She wanted to kill the ones responsible for her sisters’ deaths. She wanted to hear them scream, as her sisters must have screamed, as her heart was screaming now. She wanted to watch them burn. She wanted to see the terror in their eyes and know she’d put it there. She wanted to watch their skin split, hear their bones shatter, feel the hot splatter of their boiling blood upon her face and know they would never hurt her or anyone else ever again.
Her whole body was shaking now. The Rose on her wrist was on fire. Every breath was a gasp of searing air. She was dimly aware of Dilys’s arms around her, of her fingers grasping his upper arms, nails digging deep into the flesh. He was murmuring something. Words she could barely hear above the roaring in her ears.
The scream was on her tongue, filling her mouth, pressing against the backs of her teeth. It tasted of fire and destruction and devastating grief and the need to kill and kill and kill and kill until the ones who had hurt her were wiped out of existence and this agony inside her had poured itself out like lava from an erupting volcano.
She flung her head back and set it free.
The scream tore from her throat, a wail of unbearable grief, the sound of a heart breaking, of love dying.
The ship shuddered as if caught in the jaws of some great beast. The glass panes of the captain’s cabin windows rattled loudly, and a dozen of them cracked. A dozen more exploded outward, spewing a cloud of shattered glass into the sea. One full shelf of books toppled to the floor, and the lanterns hanging from their hooks swung wildly while the flames threatened to set the whole cabin afire.
And then she became aware of Dilys, his body drawn tight, every muscle standing out in rigid relief. His eyes were ablaze. His battle fangs were fully descended. And in a choked voice, he kept saying over and over again, “Let it go. Gabriella. Give your pain to me,moa haleah.Give it all to me and let me bear it for you.”
She drew in a shuddering breath. Her throat was raw, her lungs empty and aching from the force of her scream. Dilys’s palms stroked across her back, leaving trails of soothing warmth in their wake. His murmuring voice softened the sharp, searing edge of her grief, and the screams still trapped inside turned into broken sobs and a flood of hot tears. Then she was in his arms, clutching him tight, crying with abandon.
She cried until there was nothing left, until the agony of grief faded to a sort of hollow numbness. The forlorn reality of loss settling in. Her body’s trembling slowed. Exhaustion fell over her like a heavy cape, and suddenly all she wanted to do was sleep. She wanted to sleep so that she could wake up to find that all of this was a very bad dream.
But, of course, it wasn’t.
Hiccoughing softly, Gabriella nuzzled the hard warmth of Dilys’s chest, drying her tears against his silky skin. She frowned a little at the sharp, acrid scent that prickled her nose, a faintly scorched fragrance.
“Oh, no, did I catch something on fire?”
Instead of answering, he just kept stroking her back in that rhythmic pattern. And it finally dawned on her that something was wrong. He was as rigid as stone, yet shaking like a leaf.
“Dilys?” Slightly alarmed, she pulled back to look up at him.
His eyes were squeezed tight, and there were white brackets around his mouth, etched deep. He was panting softly, shallow breaths. And the scorched scent was coming from him.
“Oh, Helos!” She tried to yank away, certain she’d done him harm, but his arms were locked in place. “Dilys!” She reached up to clasp his face. His skin was hotter than she’d ever felt it. As hot as her own had been only a few minutes ago. “Dilys! Talk to me.”
Sweet Halla, what had she done?
The cabin around them was dry as a bone. A single spark would send it up in flames. The floor was littered with broken glass and the ceiling overhead was cracked, the timbers bulging upward. Beyond the broken windows along the stern, the seas had grown rough, and the previously clear summer sky was dark with ominous clouds. Rain had begun to pelt down in sheets, while gusting winds howled across the ocean’s surface and whipped the ship’s sails. In the explosive fury of her grief, she’d nearly Shouted theKrackento splinters and set it on fire and while simultaneously summoning a tropical storm, which was tossing the ship about like a cork.
She could have killed them all. She nearly had.
But Dilys had stopped her. Somehow—miraculously—he’d stopped her!
“Dilys?” She stroked his face with shaking fingers. “Dilys, speak to me.”
He muttered something that sounded like, “Give me a minute,” and his tone was more than a little cranky.
She bit her lip and tried not to feel offended. She had, after all, channeled the equivalent of a hurricane, a firestorm, and an earthquake into him in the span of a minute or two. And as she had observed over the years, most men went into attack mode whenever they were feeling tense, wounded, or vulnerable. Rather like Khamsin had always done. It was just a shock to see Dilys exhibit that behavior—especially towards her.
Hoping to soothe him, she began to stroke his back and murmur softly, “It’s all right. It’s all right.”
But instead of being soothed, he went even more rigid. “BlessedfarkingNumahao!” he gasped. “Gabriella! Stop!” With a guttural roar, he grabbed her wrists and shoved her halfway across the room.
She grabbed hold of the splintered remains of his desk and gaped at him in shock. He’d just sworn at her and had practically thrown her across the room. As if her touch were anathema. The rejection struck at her soul. She didn’t know whether to shout at him or cry.
Before she did either, he whirled around. And the scathing scold on her tongue died without a squeak. His eyes had turned white gold and there was steam coming off his skin.
