She?My cold heart stops beating.
The Balam leans closer, its leathery, wet bull nose touching me, the contact searing my skin. “I’ll make this qui?—”
I headbutt the daemon, putting all my strength behind the blow. A satisfyingcrunchreaches my ears. The daemon wails.
Black goo, thick as tar and burning with unholy heat, pours from one of the daemon’s faces, splattering across my face. It sizzles on contact, eating away at my skin like acid. Taking advantage of its disorientation, I plant my feet against its chest and kick with every ounce of strength I possess, my thigh muscles screaming in protest. The force sends Balam staggering back.
I roll away, limbs tangled and clumsy with terror, then stumble as I try to move on my hands and knees, my abused wrists screaming in agony. Pushing myself to my feet, ignoring the fire scorching my face, I charge for the exit. My feet thwack against the mossy pavement, a frantic rhythm paired with the daemon’s wailing. Every breath burns now, but escape is my only focus.
I am so close to freedom when a gigantic force collides with my back. I sprawl on the floor, knocking over candles. Flames catch on the tattered remains of a drape on the crypt, spreading quickly.
But it’s not enough. Balam’s massive hand closes around my shoulders, the grip like a vise, lifting me as easily as a ragdoll. Then I’m thrown against the unforgiving stone floor, the impact stealing my breath. Over and over, my head slams against the ground, each hit a jarring explosion of pain as the inferno roars higher, licking at my exposed skin. Spots dance across my vision, blurring everything into a swirling mess of light and shadow.
I’m losing the battle, my consciousness slipping away as the heat of the flames turns unbearable, searing my skin.
On the next sickening throw, something cracks. A sharp, splintering sound echoes in my skull before the unbearable agony blossoms, stealing the rest of myself. Blood, hot and thick, pours down my face, blinding me, filling my eyes and mouth with the coppery taste of death. This is it.
“Desiree!”
The sound of my name is a lifeline in the darkness.
“Get off her!”
The daemon crashes into the far wall. I gasp for breath. My broken body screams in protest, but I know if I don’t move, I’m dead.
Twisting sideways, I claw at the blood-slicked floor. The stench of my burning flesh makes me gag. Through the haze of smoke and blood, I see two figures grappling, their silhouettes a dance macabre among the infernos.
A final shriek fills my ears, piercing and agonizing. I fear the worst as I collapse into a broken heap.
“Desiree,” a melodic voice calls out to me. “Desiree, can you open your eyes?”
I force myself to obey, fighting against the pull of oblivion.
“That’s it. Stay with me,” the voice says again, soft and encouraging.
My eyes flutter open, and I blink thrice. Am I dreaming? I’m cradled in Vane’s arms.
“Vane,” I croak. “How did you?—”
“Shh.” Vane brushes a bloody strand from my face. Even bruised and battered, I lean into his touch, ruining his nice clothes beyond repair. Eager for a hint of affection when I thought I had none. I never thought he would be the one to save me, but against all odds, here he is. He’s not a knight like Jaxson; he’s an avenging angel. “Save your strength.”
He lifts me easily. I claw at his shirt, but my strength bleeds away with the blood. Too much blood has been lost to heal, too broken to mend. Darkness presses in. This might still be the end.
We emerge from the tomb, and the frigid night air caresses my battered face. Vane kneels in the brittle grass. Weeping headstones watch.
“Balam,” I croak. “Did you?—”
“It’s not dead,” Vane says. “But it’s wounded, just like you. And you’re not healing fast enough.”
Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids. Blood is the key to accelerating my recovery.
“Here.” Vane’s blood-slicked wrist hovers before my face. The scent is similar to an irresistible siren’s call. “Drink.”
I search his eyes, seeking for any glimmer of deceit. Does he want to share blood with me despite knowing the consequences? Drinking his blood will forge a bond between us, tying him to me for eternity. I’ll be able to know how he feels at any given moment. Why would he want me to experience a one-sided bond that puts him at a disadvantage? He hates me.
“Why?” I gasp, the question a fragile breath between us.
Despair shadows his eyes. “Seeing you in pain . . . it tears me apart.”
