Page 362 of Heat of the Everflame

“I told you, these people are under my protection.” My voice dropped so only he could hear. “I don’t want to fight you. But I will if I must.”

A chilling wrath churned in his eyes. “Where are the mortals?”

“I sent them back to your camp in Montios.”

“That isnot Montios,” he thundered.

He jerked forward, palms facing me, muscles quivering down his arms. His magic crackled in the air, and I felt the violent, malicious energy that tangled through it, just as I felt his indecision as he debated my fate.

Suddenly, a puzzle piece fell into place. A realization, an innate understanding, of the cold, empty numbness I’d been fighting since Fortos.

I gave in and embraced it, let it wash the humanity right from my bones. In Ophiucae’s presence, it felt as natural as breathing. As inevitable as death.

Because it had come fromhimall along.

Those cold, steely eyes, such a mirror to my own, felt no remorse at killing, no compassion, no regret. He killed simply because he wanted to, simply because it pleased him to know that he could.

And whether I wanted it or not, some part of that lived in me, too.

Perhaps he saw it in my eyes or read it in my thoughts, but he smiled, sinister and knowing, as surely as if I’d spoken the words aloud.

“I could kill you for this,” he taunted.

In the hollow abyss, I found that I didn’t care. I didn’t fear him, and I didn’t fear death. I didn’t fear anything at all.

I didn’tfeelanything at all.

“You could,” I agreed.

His smile curled higher. “Perhaps I should.”

His fingers twitched, his vicious magic inching menacingly close.

I blinked in surprise as a shimmering veil rose in front of me and brushed protectively against my skin, its familiar aura comforting me, encouraging me. Loving me. Reminding me who I was.

And reminding me who I had to live for.

Luther.

Ophiucae knew that, too. His eyes cut over my shoulder, and his head cocked sharply in a predatory tilt. “So my daughter has a suitor,” he hissed. “Perhaps I should find out if he’s worthy of your hand.”

The icy numb’s grip on my soul shattered.

Fear—a terror unlike I’d ever known—flooded through me, along with the grounding warmth of Luther’s love.

I might lose my humanity, but I couldn’t bear to lose him.

My fingers squeezed the hilt of my sword. “If you hurt him, I...”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. With a man like this, my threats might only make it worse. And with Ophiucae immune to my magic, I didn’t really know if I could protect Luther, if it came to that.

“Please,” I whispered.

Ophiucae’s focus shot back to me. For an agonizingly long moment, he didn’t speak. He just pinned me with those dead, shadowed eyes.

“I can be generous, daughter. I can be forgiving.” His fingers curled, and the mark on my neck flared with a painful, choking heat. “But I will not be disobeyed. You have struck at me twice. Do it a third time, and my protection will end.”

His hand dropped to his side, and I collapsed to my knees. His gryvern arched its neck in a howl, then fell back on its haunches and sprang into the air.

---