Letting go of the sword, I push up the sleeve of my tunic; the fabric is heavy from the weight of my blood. There on my inner wrist is the rune I used to help me steal the book. The thick lines slowly begin to fade until they are nothing more than an old scar, barely visible but certainly remembered.
“It worked!” I cry as my smile burns. I have cut off the magic of the runes from the world. “I did it. I saved us.” Tears fall from my eyes, mixing with my lifeblood.
Then it happens: the last string that holds my magic to my soul is cut. The pain is so immense it rivals the fear of death itself. A wave of light leaps from my body. The shades of colors are unnamed in this world, spectrums of such beauty, I think not even the greatest poet could pen a name to them.
“Beautiful,” I whisper in awe, my voice barely audible.
My magic swirls and roars as it seeks to be set free or attached again like a child unsure whether it should leave the nest or cling back to its mother’s arms.
“I order you to cage this book, here on this slab, so it can never be moved; should anyone touch you, you shall strike them dead. For none can rival death but itself,” I command.
My magic vibrates as it swirls, listening to me like a good, loyal pet. It surrounds the stone slab where the book is stabbed, forever stuck in a frozen state of life and death.
They will remember me as their hero!
Of course, some will call me a foe, but they will be erased from history. Sacrifices must be made.
Some will suffer more losses; for instance, the dragon riders will lose control of their winged beasts without the runes. Yes, that means the dragons will be hunted down and killed again, but what use do we have for those massive beasts?
Those riders sit so high and mighty on their scaly, overgrown lizards as if they were gods trying to make us see reason.
I never liked the dragons or their riders. They speak a strange language and don’t teach others how to understand it. They are hiding things; I sense it. They patrol the skies and dig up the earth, searching for the book, but it was I, a fae without a dragon, who found it.Me!
The riders deserve a downfall.Many need to be humbled. And so they shall.
My back hits the floor, and the last sight I see is my magic encasing the Vitalis. It’s like a flower. Its beauty tempts the thief, and when they lean in to take it, it releases its poison.
Now all the runes marked on their greedy flesh will be nothing more than faint scars. No magic flows through them.
Silence. Ah yes, that’s it, nothing. I just want all their greed to be silent.
Now it will be.
Chapter
One
Selene
One thousand years later.
Hands grasp my hips, guiding them up and down with more force than I could have thrust them. “Gods, yes, Selene,” Galen, my husband, groans as a sheen of sweat drips down his temple.
Even from this angle, with me on top and him lying flat on the bed, he looks like a king, taking what he wants with pride and confidence as he guides my hips.
The man doesn’t fight on the battlefield; his face is too pretty. Seriously, it’s stunning. Square jaw, clean-shaven, shiny brown hair cut to the perfect manly length. Not too long or short. His body—well, shit—look at it thrusting into me. Abs, biceps, those thighs.He’s not an old, ugly toad.
Silver linings, right?
He’s bred for this. Claiming a body.
I admit it’s attractive to watch him like this.
Just like my husband, I prefer to take what I want. Just because I have the absence of a cock between my legs doesn’t mean I don’t want to enjoy life.
Stop lying; you’re numbing yourself.
Trust me, the world would rather I be indifferent than emotional. The last time I looked deep inside my mind, I saw nothing but vengeance. It’s still there, coating my tongue, tainting everything I swallow.
