The blond’s face swam in my periphery, his nose too flat and snakelike to be considered beautiful. His black eyes gleamed as that weight pressed down on me, and I felt oily tendrils caress my mind.
Low whispers filled my ears, and I hurriedly threw up my mental walls.
Shit.
I was in no shape to fight the demon mind-to-mind. Between the pain wracking my body and the physical exhaustion, my walls shuddered and fell.
Those oily tendrils slipped in farther, wrapping around my mind.
Desperation gripped me, and I tried to summon the Coranthe power that had come to my aid before. But I was too drained to fight, and my magic fizzled uselessly.
The whispers grew louder, and I thrashed against them. I wouldnotlet this demon take control of my mind.
Terrified screams filled my ears — my screams, I realized. The demon was inside my head, but I wasn’t going quietly.
Then those tendrils tightened their grip and forced their way into my mind.
All at once, I stopped screaming. My body stopped its desperate thrashing. I had the brief sensation of being made anew. Of being made into . . . nothing.
I had no thoughts. No memories. There was only sensation.
But then a roar shattered the night, and even those oily tendrils seemed to shudder before retracting from my mind.
Everything I’d been and everything I was came flooding back in a rush — the pain, the self-loathing, the void in my chest, but also the fight and the fury.
The ground shook. The demon shrieked. A familiar magic wrapped itself around me, and a pair of dark wings blotted out the night sky.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Soft wingbeats roused me from death, and Death had not been what I’d expected.
It wasn’t a monster lurking in the darkness. It was a warm, comforting embrace that smelled like burnt cedar and cool night air.
Death brushed a hand down my cheek, bringing me back to my broken body and the stabbing pain in my gut.
Gods, Death had to be better thanthis. I wanted to sink into that warm embrace and never have to feel again.
But Death’s dark, magnificent wings were carrying me farther from that sweet relief. Through my haze of semiconsciousness, I became aware of a steady, thunderous melody. The sound of a beating heart.
I squinted at the wings in my periphery — at the talon that pierced each tip.
Demon wings.
Fear curdled my insides as I realized it wasn’t Death that held me. The touch was one I’d felt before — one that stoked a fire within me that I longed to put out but couldn’t.
Gripped by a sudden panic, I thrashed against my captor’s hold, and the arms around me tightened.
I knew it was useless. My body was weak from my fight with Silas and whatever remaining power the blood demon had siphoned. The arms that held me were as strong as iron. Utterly inescapable.
Then something soft grazed my temple, and cool fingers brushed back a strand of my hair.
I sighed. It had beenyearssince anyone had touched me like that. The last had been my mother.
I allowed that thought to comfort me as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Those strong arms swept me through the cool night air, toward a spire that pierced the velvety sky.
Then I was hit by a wave of magic — stronger than the magic that had bound me in the bargain with Caladwyn. I felt as though I was being flayed alive — blown to pieces by the strength of that power. The magic tore at my very soul as we hurtled into an aching void.
