Page 133 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Something entirely sinister clawed at her inner being. Finding amusement from their panic. Knowing that not one of them could leave. No hope of escaping the terror-storm dawning on the mountain.

Alora caught Ezander shifting beside her, slowly drawing his blade.

The Savage Prince’s rapturous stare narrowed on the movement, forging a wicked expression more dangerous than any death she could imagine. And she wondered if they would witness one today. This male beside her. Would Garrik reduce him to splinters of stone? Misted into air by nothing but a thought?

What did he do to deserve Garrik’s wrath?She shuddered at the thought.

Oblivion cut to her, and she held that predatorial gaze.

A thrill washed over her like when a knuckle brushed down her jaw. Her neck.

“You might want to move,” Ezander warned, but Alora would do no such thing. She was waiting right there for him. For Death to descend. For Garrik.

The entire mountain quaked as three incredible male bodies slammed into the arena. Every muscle rippled as they stiffened straight, power rolling off them in waves as they drew their blades.

Breaking the barrier of darkness, Garrik, covered in unholy night, emerged.

Curse the stars. Every one of them.Alora felt like she hovered on the edge of insanity.

Garrik …

He was no longer wearing his armor. A tunic was cut perfectly to his muscles, and the veins in his forearms bulged like paths down a mountain. There was something alluring—unsettling—about it. As if to prove that armor was more of a prop. That he needed nothing but a blink of his power to lay ruination.

He looked …

She had to focus on the smell of blood, the taste of sweat in the air, on the fear in the younger soldiers’ faces to distract herself.

Ezander did the next foolish thing she witnessed that day. He stepped forward, closer to her Savage Prince and his reapers, and dared to question, “You’re not going to order your female away before death beckons us?”

Female.Alora seethed. If not for Garrik’s words, she may have destroyed Ezander instead.

“She belongs tono onebut herself.” Garrik’s canines flashed a bit as that beastly voice promised brutal death. “It is her decision as to when she moves or who she wishes to kill. Though, if you are asking for a suggestion, I gladly offer you for her sword.”

“And deny you a chance of vengeance?”

“We do not need to speak.” Garrik’s voice was rough, bordering on something lethal.

Thalon, Aiden, and Alora exchanged wary glances. Jade and Deimon backed away as she tensed. Watching. Ready.

Ezander’s wrist rotated, twirling his sword by his side as he smirked at Alora, then smoothly said to Garrik, “I see, like old times, then?” And dug his feet into the ground.

Without warning, Garrik’s blade cut through the air.

The eldest male heir of Kadamar raised his and clashed irons in a shower of sparks. He leaned in close, meeting abyss for eyes before he snickered, “Exactly like old times, then.”

Shadow clung to the mountain. A fog enveloped every face among the clang of metal and bursts of sparks. Heavy and cloying, refusing to mist away, making it impossible to see him and Ezander clearly. Acrid to the touch—exactly how his veins felt as he ruthlessly fought back the sharp needling through his veins. Fought back the darkness from thieving his eyes and controlling him.

It was not working.

Do not kill him. Do not kill him. Do not fucking kill him.

Chanting it made little difference. Garrikcravedhis death—fixatedon the satisfaction of it. To rip Ezander apart limb by limb. Carve out his teeth and choke him with them. Strangulation by entrails before throwing him off the nearest turret.

That would have been easier than …this.

Garrik tried to feel nothing at all.

To morph outside his body and watch blow after blow, strike after strike. Ezander was nothing but a smear of shadow. A blur in his vision that expertly defended every swing and attack. Focused and confident, the princeling fought like a practiced dance. Smooth and precise, little room for error. Which was not a surprise. Thalon had trained them both as elder faelings. Their fighting styles complimented each other.

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