Page 162 of Every Shade of Shadow

The sound is incredible, the burn, but I keep at it, marching forward while the lightning continues, watching that bitch burn and flame by my hand.

I walk, foot after foot, relishing in this, the shadows strengthening my resolve until with a final, punctuated scream Mortis’s explodes—a bursting balloon of blackened sludge that fans out across the walls and floor.

An aftershock follows that throws me halfway back across the room.

I go tumbling head over ass, my fingers sparking out and the castle itself shaking on its foundations, but when I rise, when I look back to the spot where Mortis should be, there is nothing but that sickly splatter.

The façade of the room peels away, a stomach-turning flicker of false reality, before the ballroom is restored, and the true horror of this night becomes apparent.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I stumble through the ruins of the ballroom, my boots crunching on shards of glass and debris. Bodies lie strewn across the floorboards of the dance floor, blood gummy against it. The acrid stench of smoke and death chokes the air.

Panic rises in my chest as I scan the chaos for any sign of him. I spot a dark figure sprawled near the fountain, raven hair matted with blood.

No.

I race over and drop to my knees beside him. "Damien." His eyelids flutter open, clouded with pain. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he struggles to speak.

"I had...to protect you," he rasps. “One good act in a life of misdeeds.”

Tears blur my vision as I grip his hand. "Why did you do that?"

A ghost of a smile touches his pale lips. "You know why."

He closes his eyes again, chest barely moving. I stand and tear off the bottom of my dress. It’s not like it’s in any condition for resale. I crouch and press it to the gaping wound in his abdomen, but the blood seeps through my fingers, hot and thick.

Panic claws at my insides. I can't lose him, not now, not when there's so much left unsaid between us.

Gran’s grimoire might not be well-versed in Shadowcraft, but it does have healing spells a plenty. I try them, one after the other.

“Cura Lux.”

“Renovo Vita.”

“Serenum Salvus.

But nothing stops the life from flowing out of him.

It’s useless. I can’t work against this kind of magic.

It’s fatal, I think, but I can’t bear to hash out the possibility of a future without him. Damien Darkwood has become my entire world.

"Please," I whisper, adding more pressure to the wound. "Stay with me."

I see a few others emerging through the smoke, dazed.

There’s no response. Dread washes over me, cold and sharp as steel. After everything we've endured, it can't end like this.

I lean down until my lips graze his ear and pour all the emotions I've bottled up into three simple words, a tear falling from my cheek to land against the scar that runs across his lips, the scar that marked the man who met me at the ball, who ruined me and freed me and showed me power and pleasure beyond my wildest dreams.

I say them, speak them aloud.

A ragged breath escapes his lungs. His eyes flutter open once more, gazing up at me with a tenderness I've only dared to imagine.

"Annabelle,” he whispers.

There’s no ‘pet’ or ‘lamb’ or cute moniker.

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