“Fuck!” I roared through gritted teeth, transforming into the Beast—the only thing that had been able to truly stop theEternal Blazefrom consuming me earlier.
I stumbled a couple of steps while fire and fur rippled over me as one, and I held myself to the wall—my form growing, bones rearranging.
Dante’sTwilightshot towards me, sending with it ancient spell, after ancient, powerful spell to combat Natasha’s blaze… to no avail. Thankfully, when the transformation overcame me, the burns on my arms and stomach began to regenerate. Once I was no longer a man, the fortified skin of the Beast fully replacing my own, the blue fire was forced to die, retreating against its will.
My left knee hit the floor while tendrils of smoke swirled off my fur, and I worked to catch my breath.
Relief sank Dante’s chest before his attention turned to the raging blaze taking over the sleeping area. Once more, his shadow bands of magic flew, but I shook my head.
“It’s not going to work,” I muttered, frustration spreading over me like the blaze along the lush rug.
“What?”
“Stop trying to end the fire, it won’t work. It’s too powerful. Just give it something it can’t burn…”
A new light entered his gaze, and his eyes dropped to my chest. “Like the Beast’s skin.”
With my nod, he swept his arms over the room, sending a blanket of shimmering shadow magic that resembled the never-ending night sky.
“Indistruttibile!”
Transformation followed the starry blanket, turning everything that it touched into something that resembled a mix of moonstone and steel. I knew it wasn’t that simple; his power was not only ancient, but it defied logic.
Even with their every attempt to advance, the flames began to die, unable to consume whatever he’d created.
Just like it had with the Beast.
“Now what?” I panted, forcing myself to my feet as a man once more. My intense gaze focused on her face.
“Now we wait for her to wake up,” D answered simply.
“And so, we’ll wait…” Dante somberly echoed.
2
Five hours later, Natasha lay unconscious in a bed of “moonstone and steel”. Her fiery blue wings still enveloped her form while the sun rose on the horizon. Its intensifying light oozed through the balcony, warm orange and pink hues sweeping over her form and contrasting with the dancing flames.
It was the strangest, most mesmerizing thing I’d ever witnessed.
Her wings weren’t solid by any means, but they were perfectly defined as tiny flames spread over them, shaping what would otherwise be feathers. They slightly swayed over her form, allowing us to see her serene, restful expression underneath them.
Our mate seemed at ease, completely peaceful, a stark contrast to the screams of torment and terror that echoed through the estate, bursting from the traitors who had somehow infiltrated the Viscountess’s guard.
Fully healed, Isis stood a few steps behind us, her back against the wall while her gaze dutifully held Natasha’s sleeping form. Her arms crossed over her chest as both deep concern and relief for her daughter’s wellbeing burdened her eyes.
Yes, the Viscountess had carried and given birth to our mate, but Isis had been there for every other second of Natasha’s life—protecting her, witnessing the good days and the bad, risking her own life to make sure Natasha was one day reunited with her true family. As far as I was concerned, Natasha was her daughter too, and I would strike down anyone who dared say different.
After hovering over Natasha for the past five minutes, Bjørn’s hands finally lowered—finished scanning her life force to make sure it wasn’t compromised. Without a word, he turned towards Isis and winked, his reassuring smile letting us all know everything was as it should be.
She would be fine.
A sweet breath of relief filled all of our lungs in unison, but Isis’s hand flew to her mouth, quieting her soft cries. Bjørn’s arms wrapped around her the next second, cradling her against his broad chest. He kissed the top of her head.
Though Dante could access incredible healing magic, only Bjørn could actually perceive the energies that conformed the universe, including the very threads weaving our life force. He could manipulate them, drain them away, or even replenish them with his own.
It was his gift as an Ethereal Fae, and right now, I was incredibly thankful for him.
“I’m so terribly sorry to interrupt…” The shame-filled words came through the slowly opening door.
