Page 135 of Creatures that Breathe

“I’m ruined,” I rasp, loose strands of blue whipping across my face. “Did you not hear me? It’s over.”

“Yes, you’ve rutted like a nasty whore.” Pain lances up my arm as he twists me, assaulting me with the scent of plastic and leather. “But who will tell the queen? You? You won’t dare to ever defy me again. I’m going to whip you with my name. When you see me coming, you’ll drop to your knees and open your mouth for me like a good little bitch.” His words are venom, his tone is pleased. “And if you ever disobey me, I’ll spend weeks ending you. Again and again. And all the while, I’ll just keep fucking that tight virgin cunt.”

I sway into him, closing my eyes, dizzy, angry.

So many of my plans have failed. Starting a forest fire on the royal estate. Getting caught stalking the Blackguard. Burning down a beloved city block.

“That’s it, angel,” the prince taunts as he rips at my hair once more. “To think, I was told your breed was biddable.”

Despite everything, I can’t help but laugh.

Draven shakes me. Hard. “You shut up.”

“I just realized you’re right.” I stare up at him, feeling like one big bruise. “It didn’t occur to me earlier, but it should have. Who is going to tell the queen?”

“Fucking Tartarus, you’re dumber than you look.”

“Actually,” I spit, hating this male with every fiber of my being. “I’m quite smart.” And everything, for once, has fallen into place.

This isn’t his check, it’s my check mate. It’s a royal flush. It’s my high score. My final plan has come together. Brilliantly.

Yes, the explosion was larger than intended, but it stopped the hand to hand combat from escalating, allowed discourse to begin. Carved out a temporary reprieve for me to say goodbye and prevent Cross from chasing me. And yes, the slash in my arm is an inch deeper than I wanted, but it works.

It’s all working.

I’m sleepy, the sky has turned milky purple and there’s rich, creamy raspberry chocolate sticking to my tastebuds. I don’t read medical journals, but they’d undoubtedly confirm these are sure signs of excessive blood loss.

I smell apples, or maybe oranges, something fruity, and I’m freezing. Colder than the Baltic.

It’s so close, but just to be sure, I retrieve the knife from my back pocket. “You’re going to spend the rest of eternity wishing you’d treated me the way I deserve,” I croak as I grab the Sixth Prince of Hope’s hand and stab myself in the heart.

The pain is excruciating.

My vision fades. Towering trees become hazy and distorted, the blades of the helicopter seem to rotate distressingly slow.

This is the end, and I am finally in control.

Warm dark shadows envelop me like an old friend, and I relax into it as Cross’s midnight voice curls around me, dangerous.

He knew. Right from the start.

35

Cross

the wrong fucking direction

Sin drags me. Chunky, chafing ropes bound around my hands and knees gnaw on my exposed skin. The back of my boots catch on roots and undergrowth, shredding patches of wet leaves off the forest floor. Each bump ignites fresh agony in the wreck of my fragmented ribs, and my thigh leaks like a river as I channel more and more energy into my gift.

If they forget me, they’ll drop me.

If they drop me, I’ll get to Leni.

I throw more shadows and feel my arm break.

The pain is nothing compared to the anvil crushing my heart.

Only Leni keeps me going. Her face swims before me, cloudy eyes wide with love as she pulled the trigger on me. Denied me the chance to protect her.

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