“So what?” I roar. “We give up?”
Darial flinches, then levels me with his golden stare. “No. We go back.”
I rear like he’s struck me. “Back? Back to what?”
“To the only thread we have left that connects to Aura. Ahya.”
The name silences me because thinking about that child’s cries, her red curls clutched against Aura’s chest, the way Aura handed her back before running into the woods like she knew it was her last goodbye, makes something inside my heart bleed.
“She’s a child,” I mutter. “How can she help—”
“She’s Aura’s child,” Darial cuts in. “And you’ve seen how she reaches with touch and through visions. Aura knew when Ahya was in danger. They’re connected somehow. Maybe we can use that connection to search for our mate.”
Kelan nods slowly. “We’ve done all we can here.”
My fists clench. I’ve been consumed with rage, guilt, and the hollow ache of loss. All I could think about was destruction. To go back now seems like a waste of time we don’t have, but my alpha has spoken. I rake a hand through my hair and snarl, “Then let’s go.”
We shift again without words. Wings explode from ourbacks, and we launch into the air like twin bolts of fury flanking Darial’s golden blaze.
Back to Blackwood Forest.
Back to the only spark that links to Aura.
And if there’s any sign of her…
We’ll find it.
We’ll follow it.
And we’ll bring her home because the alternative is too painful to consider.
29
AURA
The wet cloth is warm on my skin. Steam rises from the bowl as it’s dipped in and used to wash me, leaving my skin pink and gleaming.
Lythian moves in silence, her elegance jarring against her wicked intentions. She is careful not to lift the cloak too far away from my skin, instead, sliding her hands beneath it to massage scented oil into my flesh.
Her actions have a ritual action to them that Gregory never had, but it doesn’t matter.
Her intentions are the same.
She views me only as a vessel, and this layer of reverence does nothing to soften the violent intentions she has for me. I lie still now, no longer willing to struggle when the tethers at my wrists are already drawing blood. They could sever my wrists if I continue, and I need my hands to function if I have a chance of using my magic to escape.
Still, my body shakes with the awful certainty of what’s about to happen.
I try not to flinch as she lifts the edge of the enchanted cloak, exposing my thighs. The cloth grows warm where it touches me, and my magic stirs with a small pulse and a faint flicker across my ribs, but the cloak quickly suppresses it again, leaving me numb and still.
I clench my teeth and breathe through my nose.
If I could get this thing off…
Lythian won’t risk taking it off completely, even now. That tells me she knows how dangerous I am. She understands what my magic can do.
Good.
Let her fear me.
