Page 49 of Forging Darkness

“What were you doing in the pit?” he asks without lifting his gaze, still busy bandaging my wound. He jerks his chin to indicate I should lift my leg so he can wrap the gauze around it.

“Helping you?” The way he’s talking about what just happened makes me think he never needed my help in the first place.

His head snaps up at the honest confession. “Helping me?” His brow pulls tight as he tilts his head. Sitting back on his heels he asks, “Whatever for?”

“So you didn’t get torn apart by those Fallen.” I mean . . . duh.

“You thought . . .”

With a shake of his head, he stands and moves across the room, grabbing items off a shelf. I let my eyes peruse the space for the first time. It’s obviously a bedroom. A really large one. The size is closer to a great room than a traditional bed chamber. Through the window, I can only see the tops of buildings and the white-capped mountains beyond.

I’m startled to find him standing in front of me when I twist back around. He’s stealthy for a large dude. He holds a damp towel out to me. “To clean up some of the mess.”

I accept the cloth and murmur my thanks. Looking down at myself, I’m not sure where to start. Black blood is splashed across my armor and wings. Gritty sand from the arena sticks to me everywhere and has managed to find its way into some super uncomfortable places beneath my armor.

Grabbing a chair from a wooden desk behind me, the blond stranger hauls it over and drops it in front of me, lowering himself into it with a labored sigh. His wings fan out on either side of the seat, metal-tipped feathers scrape against the stone floor as he settles. Closing his eyes, he rubs both hands down his face before leaning forward on his knees and pinning me with a stare.

“What’s going on?” I ask, finally finding my voice and hopefully my backbone as well. “What am I doing here? What areyoudoing here?”

“This is where I live.” He gestures with his arm, indicating the giant room we’re in.

My eyes widen as I lean away from him. He lives among the Forsaken and Fallen? I don’t even attempt to hide my shock.

“I take it Silver didn’t explain the forum to you?”

“Silver didn’t explainanythingto me.”

His face hardens and something flashes in his eyes. His lips press together into a line before he opens them again to speak. “She’ll be reprimanded for that.”

My eyebrows lift. Reprimanded? Like a child or subordinate?

He talks as if he has some sort of authority over her. Maybe he does, but if so, what world did we slip into where Forsaken and Fallen obey the orders of a Nephilim?

“Who are you?” I ask.

He tilts his head ever so slightly. The hair lying against his forehead shifts, and I notice a scar that runs at an angle through his left brow and disappears into his hairline. He brushes a calculating gaze over me, like he’s trying to uncover hidden secrets.

“You may call me Thorne.”

The way the statement is phrased makes me wonder if that’s truly his name.

“How is it that you live here with these . . . creatures?”

He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. An eyebrow cocks. “I don’t just live among the Forsaken. I rule them all.”

Chapter Sixteen

Steel

The porcelain lamp shatters against the wall. Remarkably, I don’t feel any calmer in the sudden silence that follows the impact, so I pick up a crystal vase and give that a try. Shards scatter in every direction as it explodes, leaving yet another dent in the drywall. The rage inside is a living thing, and it demands destruction. Grabbing a wooden chair, I lift it above my head, and with a downward swing it smashes against the hardwood floor.

“Steel!”

I ignore the shout as I search for something else to destroy. It’s not right for the space around me to remain intact while my world crumbles to pieces.

My eye catches on a painting: a black and white image of a man with wings sprouting out of his back, dropping red hearts onto the sidewalk. The vibrant hue of the hearts reminds me of Emberly’s red-tipped hair.

It has to go.

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