But before that ghost of a kiss can deepen, violence unleashes all around us, and I’m brutally yanked from his side and tossed through the air towards the stone facade of a nearby building.
My head smacks loudly against the hard bricks, and my body slumps down to the ground. Hissing and yelling ensue, and I fight to keep my eyelids open against the threatening darkness that’s eating me whole.
Gods, I must be really concussed, because I see double. Two of Killian are fighting several onpyr creatures. I struggle, and fail to keep my consciousness afloat, as the nothingness finally stakes a claim on my senses.
CHAPTER 22
Killian
Finally,finally,Iwasinches away from kissing Aimee, the culmination of a perfect night, of months of yearning and distrust. Our breaths were intertwining in the stillness between heartbeats when the beautiful illusion fucking shattered.
Was I so lost in the height of my desire that I didn’t even hear or sense the enemy approaching? Am I so absorbed by our inexplicable connection that everything else around me vanishes into nothing whenever I’m around her? As crazy as that might seem, it’s still better than the other option. Because if I’m losing my abilities, we’re all in great fucking danger.
There was nothing loud to announce the pandemonium that ensued. Only a smear of movement, a hissing sound like a burning blade through butter, and then chaos erupted all around us. Something knocked me sideways suddenly, breaking contactwith my sweet umbra. Unforgiving hands seized her by the throat, and she gave a gurgled gasp as she was flung through the air, hurtling like a fragile doll towards a stone wall.
She didn’t even have time to cry out before the sickening crack of her skull resounded in the alleyway. I watched in horror as her delicate body slid down like a sack of potatoes, her eyes fighting to stay open, her once ruby cheeks turning porcelain white.
My shadows immediately jump from my skin, my shadow double emerging from a cloud of crimson mist.
Our eyes, hooded with lust just moments ago, ignite with the ancient fire of rage.
Several onpyrs draped in iron encircle us, their vile mouths pulled back in fanged grins, their scarlet sockets glowing like embers in the darkness.
As I look at them better, I realize, oh, Akaori! I know them. Blaise’s best spies—sent to gather intel about Morweena at Burneside Keep. We sent them to their own demise, and now they’ve come back, friends turned villainous foes, to return the favor.
“Lukha, Mayri, Amaiah, Desmond,” I spit through gritted teeth, each name a heavy burden on my shackled soul. Another four victims we lost to this cursed war. I can’t dwell on that now, though. Not when my life and Aimee’s are under grave peril.
The creatures start laughing, and the sound of nightmares fills my ears—a cacophony of broken howls that echoes into the night, fueled by Morweena’s willpower. They are splintered shells of who they used to be, their twitching bodies no longer their own.
“Are you ready to submit, Killian? To finally accept your fate? Destiny’s beckoning,” Amaiah says in a shrill voice, spit dribbling down her chin.
“Never!” I snarl, my body coiled like a spring.
From the shadows behind them, another unknown onpyr lazily emerges, seeming to have just arrived at the scene. He regards me with his unblinking, vermillion, putrefied stare before directing his gaze towards Aimee’s limp form on the ground. The creature cocks its head for a fraction of a second, regarding her nefariously, before turning towards the other onpyrs and nodding a silent command at them.
The first attack comes in swiftly.
Desmond.
“Your time has come, vampire filth!” he bellows in my face, but my shadow self is even faster.
A blade of billowing smoke hisses from his side, slashing deeply.
He steps like a predator into the strike, his swirling body a blur, and takes Desmond’s head in a singular, fluid stroke. The creature’s blood showers in a drizzle of gore across the cobblestones. The body staggers, while the head rolls, eyes turning back to emerald green.
There is no time to mourn him, though. Not when survival hangs in the balance. Mine, but more importantly, hers. I pray to Akaori that she is alright, not lost to me, but merely sleeping the hard hit away.
Amaiah throws herself at me, screeching and clawing. I shake the cursed female off my body like a cape, crashing her through a nearby marble pillar. She shrieks in agony before jumping back on her feet and lunging again.
I catch her flailing arm, twist it behind her back, then ram Alnashar up beneath her chin and out the back of her cranium. She writhes desperately, savagely as I wrench the blade out of her hideous skull, delivering one last fatal blow.
Beheading her completely.
Another head rolls down to my blood-soaked feet, lips frozen in a feral snarl, eyes losing the scarlet shade, back to a once pretty sky blue.
Lukha and Mayri stick together, each downing a set of daggers in their hands, their movements viciously coordinated. Just like they used to always fight in tandem in their previous, lost life.
“Relent, Killian! She will sink her clutches into you, eventually. You will bend down to her will for all the rest of your doomed immortality. It’s better if you do it willingly.” Lukha cackles menacingly.
