- MARCELLA -
I race down the hallway to Lyra’s room, praying all the women have had enough time to escape. Two doors away, I jerk to a stop. A muffled sound drifts out of her cracked door.
As I creep to her door and peek through the inch gap, all I can see is her window. Using my dagger, I slip it into the room slowly and angle it.
Lyra is face down on the bed, black hair plastered to her sweat-glistening skin. Her eyes are completely white. Like she’s lost in a vision. But her body keeps shifting up and down in time with a wet smacking sound. A moan slips off her lips. As I turn the blade farther into the room, I find dark, clawed hands gripping her waist.
I almost drop my dagger.
I withdraw, trying to silence my racing breath. I shouldn’t have left her. This is all my fault. Despite the look on her face, the pleasure in her moans, I can’t help the guilt carving into my chest.
The message she wrote on the window before I left her flashes in my mind—you cannot run from me.
Did she know this was going to happen? Perhaps that’s why her vision wouldn’t let her go until I forced dragonblood in her?
The smallest piece of relief flickers in my heart knowing at least the dragonblood would dull any pain.
Swallowing my fear, I slowly slip through the door. The creature mounting her is humanoid—not quite Cyrus, but not quite a full dragon, either. Not taking my eyes off it, I creep into the room. Its long tail slips back and forth like a serpent as it rocks into Lyra. I try and time it. Waiting for just the right moment.
I lunge. Stabbing my dagger as deep as I can in its tail. It throws its head back with a roar, shaking the walls around us. I pull it out and stab down again.
It whips its horned head at me, black eyes shrinking in on me. Its lips curl up to reveal rows of daggered fangs and snarls. I rip my dagger out of its tail for a second time and back up near the window. Eyes never leaving its chilling gaze.
“Come here you fucking snake,” I spit, motioning with my dagger.
The creature dismounts Lyra. A thousand years of rage and fury kept behind that gaze. Enough to incinerate me at the spot. As it crawls down off the bed toward me, Lyra straightens and fixes her skirts to cover herself. The white in her eyes begins to fade to blue. “Get out of here, Marcella! He’ll kill you!”
“Run!” I scream back at her.
Devin races into the room, panting with a river of blood slipping down his head into his neck. In his hands are chains. He whips a look from Lyra, to the beast, to me.
We lock eyes for one second. Narrowing my gaze at him, I flick a hard nod at Lyra. He shakes his head, and I swear if the beast wasn’t in front of me I’d drive the dagger through his chest for disobeying.
I tap my bloodied blade against the windowpane behind me like it’ll draw the creature closer as Devin moves in.
The beast lunges for me.
I drop and dive feet first beneath its gnashing jaws, swinging my dagger up and piercing it underneath the chin as my head slams into the ground. The beast roars, flicking its head to the side as I try and reach for my dagger again.
Stupid move in the long term. Now I’m stuck on my back between its arms, staring up at its throat. I’m praying—trusting—Devin somehow secures those damned chains to the beast.
Lying on my back as I pluck the dagger from its chin, it swings its attention back down to me, trailing along a smattering of black blood against my cheek. As its jaws part and it snaps forward, I’m yanked away beneath its belly by my feet. Hair ripping from my scalp as I barely avoid its teeth. The ceiling above me shifts from a scaled belly to the paintings of dragons.
“Get up!” Lyra barks, letting go of my ankles and reaching a hand out.
I grab her as the beast growls, swiveling to us. Claws breaking the marble tiles beneath it. Black eyes settling on us.
Devin disappears on the other side of the beast.
My hand still on Lyra’s, I yank her in front of me. Twisting one armover her chest to pin her to me, I raise the dagger to her throat and backpedal as I eye the beast.
Lyra sucks in a quick breath. Her chin tilts back until her head is resting on me, but not before I see it.
Puncture wounds on the nape of her neck.
The creature growls, more menacing this time. But from it comes a sickening hiss of a voice. “Get your blade off her.”
Devin creeps on the other side of him, moving for its foreleg farthest away from us. A chain is wrapped around the marbled bedposts. But I don’t have long to consider what he’s doing when my back bumps against the wall near the bathroom.
