For a moment, I’m enveloped in chilling safety.
But whatever new hope blossomed to life within my heart shatters when an icy hand wraps around my throat.
Wrenched against a hard chest, my head tipping back, I catch sight of heartless eyes so pearly gray, they could be made of stone.
Razor-sharp cheekbones, pointed ears behind which icy-white hair is tucked, forbidding lips.
An ethereal face that belongs…
Not in this world.
With my last conscious breath, I inhale the deadly scent of winter before darkness takes me.
Chapter Four
Stellen
Ihave heartbeats to act.
Seconds to pull the Oracle away from the cliff’s edge before she falls like a wisp of silver into a black sea of vampyrs.
I’ll only have moments before the Iron King becomes aware of my presence, where he levitates—fuckinglevitates—in the air opposite us, his focus on the swarm of undead converging on the tunnel, all of whom appear determined to defy him.
Less than a heartbeat to stop the blood flowing from the Oracle’s neck.
Her life is draining from her body, her pale eyes meeting mine as her head tips back.
Without mercy, I wrap my hand around her throat, press two fingers over the puncture wounds, and squeeze. A harsh pressure. Frightening in its savagery.
But I have no choice.
Not if I want her to live.
The punctures are deep, her veins brutalized.
All I can do is freeze the puncture sites, cauterizing themwith an ice burn. A dangerous fix. Too much ice and I’ll kill her. Not enough, and her body’s warmth will reassert, and her blood will flow again.
She’s too weak to struggle, but her forehead pinches, and I recognize the flash of fear in her eyes before the fight leaves her and she passes out in my arms.
Her hands and arms are covered in blood. Her cheeks are colorless. A thick, crimson trail leads all the way back into the tunnel, evidence of her determination to escape. Only to end up here.
I’ve seen enough death,causedenough death, to know that her chances of surviving are slim.
With one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, the other at her neck, guarding against fresh blood loss, I pull her backward, her feet dragging on the floor but protected from scrapes by the Lethian silver wrapped around her body.
I fight its song, remaining focused on the threats around me, resisting the urge to scoop her up into my arms.
I can’t. Not yet.
First, I need to deal with the Iron King.
His focus swings to her, and the shifting color of his eyes is dizzying. From inky black to emerald green and back to black, his irises flicker between colors while his brow furrows deeply and his shoulders hunch.
He gives his head a shake, the heel of his palm shooting to his temple, his inhalation short and sharp, eyes widening as his focus finally falls on the Oracle.
And then on me.
He gives a snarl, lunging at me, but I haven’t been idle.
