Vanguard’s smile only grows, but his voice lowers, a bare whisper on the breeze as he reaches back for his weapon, a bad sign. “I believe you, Striker Draven. But, unfortunately, it doesn’t matter what you’re offering or what my master wants because I can’t allow peace to happen.”
What?
I’m taking a step toward Striker when Jonah leaps at me, moving far faster than I anticipated, a blur of sudden fire blazing across my vision.
His arms close around me, and I prepare to shake him off, ready for my snakes to dart out and bite him, my exhalation filling with the scent of wildflowers and my power of compulsion flooding the air around me, and then?—
Pain.
Shattering agony explodes throughout my body.
More pain than I’ve felt since I became a full Fury.
Pain I shouldn’t beableto feel.
“Forgive me, Fury,” Jonah cries in my ear. “I have no choice.”
My head snaps back, trying to see his icy-blue eyes, a scream ripping out of me as I respond on pure instinct, wanting only to get away from this agony, this burning fire exploding around his chest and arms and enveloping me in a scorching heat.
His hold tightens around me, lifting me off my feet as I scratch and struggle and kick, and still, his fire erupts around me, flames bursting from his body, burning, scorching, eating at my skin and flesh and bones, destroying me even as my body heals and burns again.
I’m screaming, crying, struggling, fighting, clawing as hard as I can to get free, to get away.
Because how?
How is this happening?
Somewhere in the cold recesses of my mind, a horrible thought occurs to me.
Old magic creatures can hurt each other.
19. STRIKER DRAVEN
Peyton’s scream is a trigger.
A gunshot inside my mind.
My beast ignites within my body, but I’m already surging forward, leaping toward Jonah with the full force of my hellhound’s fury.
I can barely see Peyton’s form because of the flames engulfing her, catching only a terrifying glimpse of the side of her silhouette, her clothing burning to ash, her arm and leg on that side glowing bright amber, her beautiful face filled with fiery cracks, her gorgeous hair casting embers around her while her snakes shriek and writhe?—
Jonah lifts her off her feet, and Peyton’s eyes are wild with pain and fear, but somehow, impossibly, she sees me coming.
“No, Striker!” she screams. “You won’t survive!”
I can’t heed her warning. Can’t hear much of anything over the blood pounding in my ears, the pure rage beating through my veins.
Kill him, my beast roars.Tear him apart!
“Striker!” Peyton’s desperate wail sounds right before I collide with Jonah.
My left hand is outstretched, my claws extended but only partially, allowing me to take a full grip of Jonah’s arm where it presses against Peyton’s stomach and keeps her constrained.
My momentum allows me to hit his left side while my hand pulls his arm wide.
His flames engulf my hand and leap up my arm, but my own fire has burst out from within me, my muscles pumping, my chest expanding, lines of lava rippling across my skin as my hellish beast emerges.
With a roar and a single shove, I rip Jonah away from Peyton, the strength of my momentum lifting both him and me from the ground, making us airborne.
