“Shush, baby. I’ve got you.” He knew he must look terrifying, covered in gore and shadow as he was, but Petra didn’t flinch when he leaned in close enough to nuzzle her pale cheek. Skin to skin, shadow to shadow, he was able to breathe at last.
“You ever scare me like that again and I’ll invest in a riding crop,” he warned. “You aren’t allowed to leave me, do you understand? You’re not allowed to get hurt. You aren’t allowed to put yourself in danger like that. You did so good tonight, baby, but if I ever catch you alone with a man and a gun again, I’ll?—”
Her arms trembled as they wove around his neck and held fast. Petra buried her face in his hair. Her shoulders began to shake. This close, the salt of her tears managed to cut through the odor of burning flesh. “You came,” she whimpered, so soft and pitiful it made him crazy. “I thought— I didn’t think anyone would— Thank you.Thank you.”
Silas fisted his claws in her hair and sucked in a deep, deep breath of her. His voice was barely human when he reminded her, “You’remine,Petra. You think I was going to leave you to fend for yourself? Now stop crying. It feels bad and I don’t like it.”
“Shut up. I’m allowed to cry.”
She sniffled, delicate fingers curling into his shirt. His shadows ghosted over her hands, soothing her in the only way it knew how, even as a different part of them settled around the base of her throat.
Silas turned his head a bit to see.Well, I’ll be damned. I guess wishes do come true.
He’d known they’d settle somewhere on her, but it was an astonishing thing to actually see his shadows find their place around her throat — forever marking her as his in a place so visible it could never be missed.
My High Priestess,he thought, relishing the taste of victory,a demon’s mate.
His clan would lose their ever-loving minds when he brought her home. The thought was a good one, but also unfortunately reminded him of all the things they still had to do. Pulling back enough to look into her face, Silas told her, “I’ll take care of all this, baby, but you’re gonna have some questions to answer when this is over.”
Not just from her staff and likely the higher-ups of the Temple, but from him, too, because there was no way he’d let the discovery of that marriage license go.
Just when he’d gotten her to calm down some, Petra went all wide-eyed and shaky again. “I’m going to go to jail for killing Antonin, aren’t I?”
Silas scowled. “Of-fuckin’-course not, Petra. Who do you think I am? Besides, I’m pretty sure I killed him, and I’ve killed plenty of people without any problems.”
It was impossible to say what dealt the final blow, but it was hard to argue with a beheading. He did enjoy the thought of it being a team effort, though.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes. Did it work?”
Petra was quiet for a beat. “I must be more fucked up than I thought, because it kind of did, yeah.”
He could feel the shadows melting away from him, returning him to his more humanoid form. Feeling marginally calmer, Silas smiled at her. “Nah, you’re just perfect for me. That’s all.”
Shaking her head, Petra made to stand. All at once, her face lost what little color it possessed. Her lush lips and the apples of her cheeks were left ashen. Alarm bells clanged in his mind.
He caught her a second before she swayed back into the wall, nearly smacking her head against the concrete.
“Petra? What’s wrong?”
She stared up at him with big, liquid eyes. Petra looked surprised when she announced, “Demon, I think I’ve been shot.”
Chapter Thirty
He’d never understoodwhy people said fear felt like ice in one’s veins, mostly because he’d never really felt fear. The desire to live? Certainly. The fury that came with defending what belonged to him? Absolutely.
Butfearwasn’t something he really felt until he saw that gun pointed at Petra’s head, and even that was a paltry thing to what he experienced when he skimmed his palm down her waist to find her ruined side.
He stared at the scorched flesh, barely comprehending a wound he’d seen a thousand times. Plasma bolts didn’t just tear through the body like a bullet, but burnt it from the inside out, cauterizing a wound instantly even as it left a gaping hole.
Petra’s wound was like someone had taken a small scoop of her side with white hot spoon. Intellectually, he knew that it wasn’t the worst he’d seen by a long shot. It was a glancing blow, perhaps an accidental discharge of the weapon as Vanderpoel flailed his burning arms, but something about seeingherflesh torn, cauterized, the muscle around it seizing as the nerves began to register the damage?—
The wards on her necklace hadn’t protected her. His shadows hadn’t, either.
For the first time in his life, Silas’s hands shook. “You’re fine,” he muttered. “You’ll be fine. You’re fine.”
Petra began to tremble in earnest. Her breathing grew ragged, each inhale coming faster than the last. Shock was setting in just in time for the pain to catch up to her. “Silas, it hurts. Ithurts.”
