Page 107 of The World Undone

Just as a wave of relief flooded my belly, his teeth pierced the flesh at the base of my neck.

I stiffened for a moment, shocked. Then I tried like hell to shove him away, but his grip was a vice, pulling me closer, tighter against him.

He’d fed from me many times, but he’d never pulled so much, so deeply—so violently.

Blood streamed down my shirt, raining droplets over the lake surrounding us.

I clawed my fingers into his back, caught between stopping him and letting him take his fill. Maybe he needed to feed, maybe that would help whatever—this—was?

“Darius,” I whispered against his chest, where only scraps of his shirt remained. I tasted salt and iron on his skin.

My vision blurred, blotting out at the edges as I fought for control, for consciousness.

Darius

I felt the bond, the link between us, reached and grabbed for it like the lifeline I knew it to be—but it was difficult, as tenuous as threading rope through an impossibly small needle.

He stiffened, his hand snaking down the side of my body, stopping at my thigh.

With a gasp, he ripped his teeth from my flesh, then threw me back with enough force that I landed on my ass a few feet closer to shore.

Cold waves lapped against my skin, cooling the wound there that would be closed by nightfall.

My dagger hung loosely at his side. With stiff, hurried force, he gripped the sheath in both hands and buried it deep into his stomach.

He leaned back, face lifted to the sky and yelled.

The sound was deep and heart wrenching. It tore through the sky.

A ripple in the air separated us and a flash of light, the scene shifting slightly, like transparent photographs set on top of each other.

A heavy sound pulsed around us—low but palpable, like a raucous crack of thunder. The aftershocks shook the lakeshore, rattling the trees and everything in sight.

A thick wave thrashed over me, pulling me under. When I emerged back to the surface, there were two of him.

I blinked a few times, fighting the waves as I stood back up. I walked towards the two Dariuses, my mind fighting like hell to make sense of this.

“Claude?”

Another figure stood suddenly beside him—a man I recognized from hell.

Nash.

In his arms was a girl. Her body was draped and still, though whether she was dead or had simply passed out, I wasn’t sure.

Darius’s twin allowed confusion to take him over for exactly three seconds as he glanced at the new arrivals, but not a moment longer.

His jaw set in a hard line as his eyes found his brother.

The rippling air between us transformed back to stillness.

“Fucking hell,” Claude muttered, “you’re a mess.”

With a resounding crack, he snapped Darius’s neck—not bothering to catch him as he collapsed and the water swallowed him whole.

20

ATLAS

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