Thorn’s face twisted. His hand crushed down. Her world went hazy with pressure and pain but she didn’t look away. Not once.
Her lungs burned. Her hands scrabbled weakly. But her eyes stayed locked on his, wide, unblinking.
Kill me,her gaze dared.Do it. Lose everything. Prove me right.
As her vision dimmed and the edges of the world blurred into shadow, a part of her welcomed the silence.Let it end here. Let it all finally stop.
But then his hands loosened.
Air surged back into her lungs in a violent gasp, a wave of oxygen that felt more like punishment than relief. And with it came a searing disappointment that tore through her.
No...
Her body trembled as her senses returned. She wasn’t free. She had failed.
Thorn staggered, leaning back, almost kneeling over her rather than straddling. He was looking down at her like she was something foreign, something dangerous. His breath came fast, almost shaky, but then his expression twisted, twitching into a scowl that barely masked the flicker of something else. Shame? Recognition? It didn’t matter.
“You really thought that would work?” His voice was rougher than before. Not the voice of a man in full control but onetryingto be. “You think you can playher? You’re not even close.”
He wiped his hand on his coat, as if her skin had stained him.
“There is no escape,” he growled, quieter now, almost intimate. “Not from me. Not from what you are.”
Elora didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her throat burned. Her limbs were lead. A soft, involuntary sound slipped from her lips, somewhere between a sob and a breath.
She clenched her eyes shut, bracing. The moment had passed. Her gambit had failed.
I’m still here.
Her spirit, frayed and exhausted, recoiled from the realization. Hope, so brittle, wilted beneath the weight of the air she had begged to breathe. Now it filled her like poison.
Whatever came next, it would break her. Thorn would see to that. Because now, heknewshe could get to him.
And he would never forgive her for it.
The pressure vanished.
One second, Thorn's weight was crushing her—then gone.
Elora froze.
Confusion rippled through her, overriding the fear. A grunt. A heavy thud. The sound of something slamming into the sand.
Her eyes snapped open.
Thorn lay several feet away, crumpled in a heap, a twisted snarl on his face as he dragged himself up from the dirt. His body had been tossed like it weighed nothing.
And standing between them—
A beast.
Sleek. Massive. Winged. Muscles coiled beneath a pelt of obsidian fur, each movement fluid and lethal. Its wings unfurled, spanning wide beneath the pale glow of the moon. The feathery layers caught the light, causing a soft illumination of colors. Greens and blues, rippling with the beauty of an aurora.
Elora’s breath caught.
Viliam.
Chapter 42
