He swallowed, the column of his sturdy throat wavering so fearfully. “I didn’t want you to have to do it like this.” Not when I was bleeding out, not when there was no other choice.
“And that is precisely why I am.” Because Lancaster had goodness within him, despite my initial thoughts. He would kill anyone for harming me and still give me the choice to control my own future. And I was.
Nodding, Lancaster shifted so he held me with one arm. He lifted his other wrist to his mouth and sliced into the vein with a sharpened canine. Then, slowly, as if giving me time to back out, he pressed that incision to my lips.
Warmth flowed across my tongue, sweet and musky and heady. It was the richest wine, drowning me in pure pleasure as it flooded into my bloodstream. I moaned against his wrist, and a growl rumbled in Lancaster’s chest at the sound. My eyes locked to his, nothing but the blackest fire looking back at me.
As his blood melded with mine and I claimed him, ecstasy shot through my body. If we hadn’t been in the middle of a battle of the gods, I would have claimed him in every way possible.
Lancaster bowed against me, his scent awakening a curling instinct below my belly. His pupils were blown wide, and his fingers curled into my hair, gripping my jaw forcefully. That touchpoint became the center of all the realms.
I drank until my limbs were strong again, until my heartbeat pounded a steady, healthy rhythm and the string in my chest wasthrumming louder than ever. Until Lancaster was able to easily heal the wound in my side and it was nothing more than a scar that looked days old.
Then, Lancaster pulled his arm from my grip and brushed a thumb across the corner of my mouth, wiping away a lingering bead. My eyes locked on the wet outline of crimson lips against his wrist. A bloody kiss that sealed our fate.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Cypherion
I chargedthrough the barrage of mist with a small but strong Soulguider and Mystique ensemble.
Meridat led her soldiers beside me, the chancellor looking formidable as any warrior with bronze-plated armor adorning her body and a scythe in hand. Blood dripped steadily from a nasty hit she’d taken to the head when Echnid’s magic forced through our last barrier, a storm of wooden planks and blocks exploding, but her stare was focused and steps pounding steadily against tile floors as she led us through an abandoned building, offering a reprieve from the magic. With wide corridors draped in various sigils of bronze and deep amethyst and rooms of desks on either side, it was a safe bet this was one of the boarding academies.
“We need to open a path through the eastern gate,” she shouted to me as we tore around another corner and into a grand hall lined with three long dining tables. “The slums border that end of the city. They’ll be the most defenseless and the least likely to evacuate on their own.”
Fuck, they wouldn’t even have proper weaponry in that part of Xenovia, and there weren’t many easy paths to flee.
The chancellor exploded out the back door of the dining hall, flying across the academy’s stone garden.
“How far are we?” I scanned around every turn for any hint of a gorgon, demigod, or Angel.
“It’s over the next bridge. The Spirit River through this part of the city marks the boundary.”
As she explained, the bronze pillars framing the bridge came into view, each topped with a carving of a sphinx, wings flung wide and jaw snapping open. Where were the damn mythological creatures now?
We tore across the bridge, the feet of a dozen warriors pounding and the Spirit River thrashing gray and murky below. As we raced into the slums to a chorus of pained cries, I cast a final glance back at the churning water, and the knowledge that spirits whirled within—that more were sinking into those depths to find their way to the Spirit Realm—was ice through my veins.
Meridat shouted orders to her citizens as we cut up and down alleys, helping the injured to stand and flee or knocking on doors. Some called back that they were staying to guide the dead home, others eagerly took our help. We only had minutes though, and my throat fucking tightened with every one we spent here. With every person who did not want to abandon their home or clung to the few belongings they had.
I passed an abandon textile shop, freezing at the mystlight that flickered through the small windows into the basement.
“Fucking Spirits,” I growled, charging inside and crashing down the stairs.
“You all need to evacuate!” I called to the maybe two dozen warriors who came into view as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. Storage shelves lined the walls, their sparse contents tipped over and unfolded along the floor. “We need to get you beyond the city bounds.”
“This is our home!” a man called from the corner. I couldn’t even see his face.
The building shook, Echnid’s power battering it from the outside. Children cowered against their parents and grandparents. Spirits, it was an unstable structure. Footsteps pounded the streets above as my warriors and the Soulguider soldiers brought more and more citizens to the eastern gate.
“We will defend your city,” I swore. “We won’t let it fall to the Warrior God, but we need to get you all to safety first if you’re unable to fight or guide the dead.”
“The Angels are fighting against us, though,” the first man called. “I saw Xenique—she killed a Soulguider apprentice before my own eyes.”
My heart stopped at that.Erista?
No. It couldn’t be. I swore to myself it wasn’t as I racked my mind for a way to convince these people. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t listen to logic. Their hearts and legacies were entwined with these buildings.
Legacies. The word rang through me.
