Page 5

The tear in the world hung above us like a dying star, fading as it stitched back together.

Rythos’ roar split the air, echoing through the distance.

It was raw and furious, vibrating through my ribs and wrapping around my heart. The bond between us flared so violently it stole what little breath I had left.

Alive.

He was still alive.

A part of me expected him to tear the void back open and throw himself to the pits of hell to pull me out of Helion’s arms.

But it was too late.

The crack closed like a wound that should have never existed.

I couldn’t feel him anymore, as if he were too far away. Instead, the bond felt like an invisible thread pulling on my chest, tugging me toward him. Despite being the monster made to kill me, my soul ached to return to his side as if that was where I belonged.

I needed to scream at him. To demand he tell me everything he knew.

“No,” I yelled, voice fracturing as I struggled against Helion’s grip.

I hit my hand against his chest, slapping and scratching with not even a flinch from him. “Take me back you lying bastard!” I screeched, reaching for the power I was so used to swimming beneath my skin.

But it was gone, still depleted from Cerilla’s magic.

“Don’t fight, princess,” Helion said, voice full of reassurance.

He had the audacity to sound exactly the same as the man I had called my friend, which only fuelled my fight.

I tried to push against him, but it was useless. His arms tightened around me like the bars to a prison.

White-hot anger poured through me, and I gripped the back of his neck, pulling myself upwards to sink my teeth into his flesh.

“Fuck,” he hissed and tried to tug me away, but I refused to loosen my hold, sinking them in until a metallic taste flooded my mouth.

Warmth trickled under my skin, sinking into me like rays of sunshine and oozing into that empty part of me where my magic had been drained.

His arousal.

I dug my teeth in deeper, and a groan left his chest against his will. My magic shimmered in my chest like a ghost begging to be brought back to life.

Ugh, he liked it.

Pulling my head backwards, a chunk of his flesh gave way with a sickening tear that made my stomach roil.

I spat the ragged strip of flesh onto the cracked earth before glaring up at him, the metallic taste of his blood still coating my tongue.

Blood oozed from the wound in his neck like ink spilled on parchment, trickling down over the collar of his shirt.

“Are you trying to punish me or get my dick hard?” he asked breathlessly, as if he were trying not to chuckle. But when his eyes crashed into mine, the amusement drained from his face.

Tears welled in my eyes against my will, and I clenched my fists, smashing them against whatever part of him I could reach.

I will not cry, I told myself silently, repeating it like a mantra that might save me from the humiliation of showing him my tears.

A frustrated screech left me, my hair covering my face as I kicked and struggled.

I needed to kill him. To rip his fucking heart from his chest and eat it in front of his dying eyes.