Page 35 of The Demon Tide

Sparrow shudders just to think about waiflike, bookish, and exceedingly gentle Aislinn in the power of such a sadistic fiend, the only Mage willing to fast to her after she openly professed her love for a Lupine, Jarod Ulrich.

“I also see how you look at Thierren,” Aislinn continues in a near whisper.

“There’s nothing between us,” Sparrow insists, her throat gone dry as the ache in her heart tightens. “There never can be.”

Aislinn winces. They remain quiet for a protracted moment before Aislinn meets Sparrow’s gaze once more, green eyes blazing. “Don’teverlet other people tell you who you can and can’t love.”

The impassioned words are a dart straight through Sparrow’s heart, a tremor kicking up along her mouth. She bites her lower lip to try to quell it.

Aislinn gives her a bitter, knowing look. “I let the world tell me who I could and couldn’t love.” Her mouth twists into a heartbreaking grimace, devastated tears glazing her eyes. “I lost the love of my life that way. And now, it’s over for me. Jarod will never have me, because he’s Lupine...and they mate for life. And I’m...forever sullied. Butyou—” she glances toward where Thierren left “—you could still have your love, Sparrow. Don’t let that go.”

A tear streaks down Sparrow’s face and she shakes her head, resolution impossible and wishing for it a torment. She looks at Aislinn. “I haven’t bathed in days. Do you want to go with me and clean up?”

Aislinn gives her a small, melancholy smile. “Yes...thank you. That would be nice.”

Sparrow tilts her head up, eyes closed, as she revels in the hot water coursing over her.

Their Vu Trin companions have cleverly propped runic swords across a stony shelf set above an alcove around the corner from the cavern’s entrance, the swords’ water and heat runes magicked to create a flow of hot water pouring straight from the blades. The heat feels sensually good against the desert’s rapidly cooling air, the buildup of gritty sand on Sparrow’s skin flowing away.

She wonders what it would be like if Thierren suddenly rounded the corner to find her there, completely unclothed, then pulled off his own garments, got under the hot water with her, and pressed his long, muscular body against hers...

Sweet Ge’o’din. Sparrow flushes as she breaks off the scandalous thought. She busies herself cleaning off the last of the tenacious sand, briefly turning to Aislinn...

...and the reality of the world crashes down.

Aislinn’s body—it’s covered in bruises. Horribly so, and violent enough to linger so many days past their escape from Valgard. There are lash marks all over her form and bruising on her breasts. And bite marks...

She quickly averts her eyes, heart wrenching, and steps from the water. Deeply troubled, she grabs an indigo towel just as her exposed skin is hit by a stinging spray of red sand.

A furious, eye-battering sandstorm roars into being and Sparrow’s hands fly up to shield her vision against the red, whipping haze as the desert before them rises into a granular typhoon. Alarm slashing through her, Sparrow recoils just as the sand-blurred figures of two giant gray spiders erupt from the desert floor, strange, smoking runes marked all over their thoraxes. A profusion of eyes cover the upper half of their heads, a gauzy gray mist encircling their stretched-out bodies.

Sparrow screams and lunges for the runic sword above her as a spider leaps at her, the impact forcing her to the ground, the air punched from her lungs as her towel falls away.

“Thierren!” she cries as she beats against the beast’s terrifyingly nimble under-legs and their clenching grip on her bare body. The world spinning, strands of sticky silvery silk wrap around her with astonishing speed before she’s lifted up tight against the spider’s hard thorax.

My life cannot end like this, Sparrow rages as she growls her protest, kicking and thrashing against the beast.My life cannot end when we’re only a day awayfrom the East!

“Thierren!” she screams again as the creature launches into a scuttling sprint across the whipping sand.

Bolts of blue light slam into the creature, deflecting off its encircling mist in bright bursts of sapphire light, their Vu Trin protectors’ fierce cries going up as Sparrow spots sand-blurred figures rushing toward her, including a furious-looking Ulluwyn, runic blade drawn.

A hard gust of wind hits the spider, blasting its shadowy shield clear away.

The world spins, the spider toppling to its side as the surrounding sandstorm dissipates. Thierren runs toward her, wand in hand, eyes like green wildfire, looking like he’s ready to rip up the entire desert to get to her. The Vu Trin rush in behind him as a pale white blur streaks toward the second toppled spider and lashes vermilion fire at it, the huge insect’s head exploding into a ball of red flame, its legs flailing.

Thierren growls out a spell, falls to one knee and levels his wand at Sparrow’s spider.

A rush of cold hits Sparrow, a chill-sting tingling over her skin as a bolt of crystalline ice scythes from Thierren’s wand and impales the spider’s head, shearing it clear off in a spray of dark ichor. She drops to the ground, pummeled by wildly thrashing legs.

Thierren draws his sword and vengefully hacks off gray legs, then leans over, his strong arms coming around Sparrow to swiftly carry her away. She lets her eyes flit backward once, her gut heaving as she takes in the headless, half-legless creature twitching on its side.

Thierren lowers her to the ground and her gaze collides with his. A frisson of pure ardor blazes through her, the passionate ferocity in Thierren’s eyes stunning to behold. He unsheathes a knife and begins to cut the thick, sticky webbing from her body with a single-minded drive bordering on desperation.

Sparrow cranes her head, frantically looking for Aislinn as her heart threatens to pound a hole through her chest. “Aislinn!” she calls out as she spots her friend’s webbed form, her rough cry breaking off as she coughs up sand and blinks its sting from her eyes.

“She’s all right,” Thierren assures her, sounding rattled as he pulls away a great swath of webbing, then pauses when he finds her naked underneath. His widened eyes lift to meet hers.

“Thierren, get itoffof me,” Sparrow prods, caring more about being freed than modesty.

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