The injury didn’t slow him down. With my next stab, Taron spun out of range. We fought across the length of the frost-slick cliff, our boots skidding, our breath pluming white. I scored the most hits, and without armor, he agonized through each blow. Good. Usually, I felt sympathy for the Lockes, but this one irritated me.
When I maneuvered him to the edge, he was forced to loosen his grip on a short-sword to maintain balance. The weapon skittered over the precipice a split second before he shoved me out of his space. He palmed a dagger before I completed a follow-up strike.
Hmm. The engraving on the hilt looked familiar. Endless, intricate knotwork with seemingly no beginning or end.
“Ah, recognition of the Yrnblade,” he said, slashing at me. Steel hissed past my cheek. “Legend claims it binds thewielder to whoever’s blood it tastes. If true, and you manage to survive today, I’ll be able to find you, anywhere, anytime. And then, only my nearness satisfies.”
Now I knew why the weapon was familiar. Scorch my tail! It was the same blade Nyla, my father’s firebrand, had lost upon her death. A manticore berserkatrix he’d chosen over those he was supposed to protect.
How did this human recover it?
Brimming with a raw, unparalleled fury, I lunged forward. Strike, strike, strike. “There’s no need to ignite a bond. We’re already shackled by the chains, remember?” Not to mention my family curse.
Taron vaulted clear of my attempts, a wolfish grin flashing in the muted light. “We aren’t shackled like we will be. A single cut ensures you grow desperate to be with me, soon willing to do anything I ask. Even bend a knee and welcome the kiss of my blade, if only to please me.”
Nyla had bragged about the legend too. “Nein, Tarry,” I replied, purposely using the nickname reserved for his friends. “You won’t be asking me anything. You won’t be surviving this encounter.”
Level of violence: cranked to the max. Our huffs and grunts provided a macabre soundtrack as we battled, nothing held back. His speed cranked up, too, baffling me. No mere mortal should move like this.
“You are enhanced in some way,” I accused, dodging his newest strike.
He merely grinned, a cold peeling back of his lips.
Frustration coiled tight in my stomach. He must have found more than mystical weapons and rare toxins.
Pressure built behind my sternum, sharp and insistent. My dragon stirred, heating with renewed fury. My blood heated as well. So did my bones, especially those in my jaw.Despite the Skyrend toxin, my body prepared to spew fire.Roast him!
Taron noticed and doubled his efforts. He feigned right and attacked left. Like a fool, I fell for it. Not my fault. For the briefest of moments, a glint of light had melted those frozen honey eyes, making them appear molten. The Yrnblade grazed my throat, nicking my carotid. An agonized scream split my lips.
Suddenly my limbs felt heavier, my movements fractionally slower. My knees buckled, and I dropped near the edge of the cliff.
Taron swooped closer, sword raised. Though he wasn’t in range of my blood spray, droplets changed course midair to splatter his cheek and throat, as if drawn by a magnetic force.
I readied to spew my flames. Could I? He prepared for a final strike.
Our gazes collided and locked, and both of us froze. Despite my weakening condition, a zing of awareness pierced the stone walls guarding my heart. Something old. Something ancient, as if the rumors behind the Yrnblade were absolutely, 100 percent true.
I slapped my palm on my neck in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood and stop any kind of bond from forming. Nein. Not a connection with him. Not him. Not now.
“What’s happening to me?” he demanded, swiping the crimson from his skin before gripping the ring that dangled from the chain around his neck as if his life depended on it. All the while, he glared at me with a strange mix of horror and an awareness all his own.
He must feel the connection growing between us, triggered by contact with my blood.
His breath stalled, and his shoulders stiffened. The air of triumph waned. His gaze lowered to my lips until he forced his focus away.
He took a half step back, as if trying to sever the sudden and unwanted connection between us. It didn’t work. Not for either of us.
He frowned. Desire sparked, and I panicked. Nein! Nein, nein, nein. I could not, would not, desire this man. Not a little, not for a moment. Time to barbecue him. The toxin had worn off. I could do it. I should.
“I can see the fire burning through your veins. You wish to burn me?” Determination hardened his features, and his muscles bunched as if he prepared to do what he thought he must. To take my head and end me. Any second now… “Do it then,” he growled. “It’s why you’re here. WhyI’mhere.”
A gasp passed my lips. “Youwantto die now?”
He jutted his chin, torment etching every line of his face. “I accepted my end before I summoned you. A part of me has always expected to die in your flames. Now, at least, you’ll suffer from my ice and spend the rest of your days plagued by an unquenchable desperation for me…until you willingly follow me into the abyss.”
Even as he spoke, heat raced through me. The Yrnblade’s enchantment had taken hold. Unwanted cravings clawed through my body, chasing away any hope of resistance. Whatever barrier stood between us cracked and crumbled. I could no longer fight the cord tugging me toward him. Kill him? Icouldn’t.
He wanted to die, so that I would suffer without him. At the thought, something in me clenched. If I could just escape his presence, his lure, maybe I could heal from this.Or find an antidote. Ja, ja. An antidote. Then. Then I could kill him.
