Aurora Blackburn can never be my mate.
Chapter 19
Aurora
Tension builds between us, nearly to its breaking point. I turn away, closing my eyes, trying to banish the feelings twisting in my heart.
I want so badly to reach out to him, to have hope.
But I know that he’ll only hurt me again.
“Aurora…” His voice is soft, gentle; there’s a note of pain in it that makes me turn toward him slightly. “I don’t know what to say.”
Our breath fogs in the darkness, lit by the emergency lanterns and nothing else. In this moment, it feels like we’re balanced on the precipice between two possibilities.
Before one of those possibilities can come to fruition, the moment shatters like glass as we hear the first scream.
At first I think it’s just the wind howling through the ruins, or maybe another goat wandering past. But then the screech comes again, higher and more inhuman than before, and my blood runs cold. I know that sound—it’s the sound of a fae hunting its prey.
The moment I realize that, I scent them.
“Get down!” Kieran shouts, but I’m already moving. My constant training with Dana kicks in as I dive to the ground and roll, coming up in a defensive crouch with a cold iron dagger ineach hand. A good thing, because a moment later three fae burst into the room through gaps in the stone walls.
They’re led by a tall, impossibly beautiful man with skin like polished alabaster and hair the color of a night sky. His eyes are an unnatural violet, with slit pupils like a snake, his facial features just slightly on the uncanny side of inhuman. When he grins at us, I glimpse two needle-sharp fangs.
The other two fae with him shift and ripple between forms, their edges flickering in the lamplight, but he remains perfectly still. He watches us with those eerie violet eyes, his pointed ears curving past the back of his skull. His fingers end in black claws, and there’s something wrong about the way he moves, his joints bending in places no human bends.
The cramped space works against us. There’s barely room to maneuver, and the two shifty fae seem to bend and stretch in ways no living thing should. But Kieran and I move together like we’ve been training for this. He shifts into his massive wolf form, clothes tearing from his back, fur bronzed by the dim light. I duck under him and come up behind one of the shape-shifting fae, stabbing my dagger into what I hope is its spine.
It screams, an inhuman sound that would make me turn and run in terror if I had anywhere to run to. The muscle and sinew I stabbed into ripples and bucks, flesh turning black. Before I can pull my blade free and take another stab at it, the dark-haired leader lunges for me with supernatural speed. I move, and his black claw slashes the air where my neck had been only moments before, catching my shirt and tearing it.
Kieran lunges at him, massive jaws snapping. The man is inhumanly strong, catching Kieran’s muzzle and fending off his teeth then throwing him back. I hear more fae howls from outside and shudder as I realize we might be about to face a whole army of them.
So I decide to use the small space against our enemies. My arms burn as I wield my daggers in moves Dana drilled into me over and over again—only this time, I’m aiming to maim and kill instead of score points. I duck, slash, pivot, and stab, light on my feet, my grip on the daggers growing slick with greasy black blood. At my side, Kieran lunges and snarls, bites and tears. Each fae we take down dissolves into mist or shadows, maybe dead or maybe just returning to their realm, only for more to take their place.
In the middle of it all, the dark-haired leader stands above and apart from his brethren, staring down with a haughty smile on his face, the tips of his fangs sticking out from behind blood red lips.
“Your blood is different,” he calls out as a trickle of red drips down my cheek from an errant fae claw. “I can smell the venom in your veins, though… it’s weak, isn’t it? Inactive. Tsk tsk.”
I bare my teeth at him. “Come closer and I’ll make you smellyourblood, too.”
His answering laugh echoes through the cavern. Raising his hands, he gathers dark lightning—and aims, not at me, but at Kieran.
I recognize the spell immediately from Gran’s teachings—it’s a binding spell, meant to trap Kieran in his wolf form forever. Only high fae can cast it.
“No!” I throw myself between them without thinking. My cold iron rings come to my aid as I slam my fist into the fae’s uncannily perfect face. He shrieks as the metal burns through his flesh, dropping the spell in a shower of sparks. His once-beautiful face twists into something far more monstrous, flesh dissolving from bone, his jaw unhinging to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Meanwhile, I’ve left myself open. One of his followers attacks me between the shoulder blades, claws raking down my back. I scream, stumbling as warm blood trickles down my spine.
Kieran’s answering snarl of rage is immediate. He tears through fae to get to me, the bond throbbing between us, full of fear and pain. With a roar, he takes down the fae with my blood on his claws, and I grip my cold iron dagger tight as I face their still-living leader.
The fae leader circles us, his burned face already healing, although now misshapen and scared. His violet eyes burn with hatred, the slitted pupils blown wide as he takes us in like the predator he is.
Adjusting my grip on the knives, I pitch my voice low for Kieran, “Ready?”
His answering growl is all I need. We move as one, whirling and attacking, falling back and switching sides. He lunges and I guard his flank. I go low with the knives, and he slashes and roars to protect me. All the while, the broken bond pulses between us, carrying our instincts and emotions back and forth faster than light.
Their leader winds up being a nightmare to fight. He’s everywhere at once, preternaturally fast and insanely intelligent. So we adapt, learning his movements, finding weaknesses in his stance. Soon he’s dripping blood and ichor, his perfect white skin turning black wherever my cold iron daggers burn through flesh.
