Page 34 of My Blood Is Yours

Sariel scowls, but the expression softens when his gaze returns to mine. The burden of having to tolerate Evandriel’s presence is nothing compared to being able to be near my mother again.

Sariel offers Evandriel a curt nod, making the male’s face light up. “So, I use the ring to bring us to mysoulbound,and then you take usbothwith you and Elowen back to your home in…?”

“Atratus.”

Evandriel’s face splits into a wide, too-bright grin, and for a moment, he almost looks like another person. It’s like hope has lifted a dark cloak from around him to reveal the radiant soul beneath.

However, it’s promptly snuffed out as a muffled roar echoes from behind the door leading back into the underground railway tunnel. Evandriel’s brows lift as icy terror trickles down my spine. “Time to go. Shall we?”

Sariel features harden. “And you will promptly return it to me when we all return to Atratus?”

Another roar rumbles through the tunnels, making my panic spike and my breath hitch. Evandrial gives him a desperate nod.

“Yes, dear fuck, yes, whatever you want.”

Blood roars in my ears, drowning out the words as Sariel and Evandriel quickly proclaim their vows. In the next moment, a strange but rather innocuous-looking ring appears in Evandriel’s hand. Sariel snatches it and shoves it on Evandriel’s finger as another enraged bellow echoes and rumbles from beyond the metal door.

SARIEL

Evandriel’s eyes leap to mine expectantly, waiting for me to tell him how to use the ring—but I can hear Forsythe’s beast thundering beyond the underground entrance.

With careful hands, I guide Elowen to stand behind Evandriel, out of harm’s way. Realization slackens her jaw before she shrieks her dismay.

“Dear god, what are you doing?!”

“There is no world in which I will allow someone who has threatened you to live.”

She splutters something about Foresythe’s gun,which I ignore, pinning Evandriel with a look that communicates the obvious as I herd them away from the door and against the wall.

Forsythe no longer has the element of surprise, and I am no longer bound by magic-suppressing shackles.

Frustration tightens Evandriel’s features, but he knows it’s an argument he won’t win and doesn’t have time to make.

When we’d left Forsythe’s cell, I’d felt no small amount of dismay at the idea of not being able to wreak vengeance upon him. Butnow, this is an opportunity I will not pass.

I can feel the spirit of death hover beside me in waiting as the door to the underground bursts open, and time seems to slow.Forsythe, in some strange half-shifted lykos, lunges towards me. It takes little effort to counter the sloppy, untrained movement to turn his momentum against him and slam his body to the ground.

In my peripheral, I see one of his hands sneak into his pocket—no doubt digging for his gun. Elowen screams my name in warning.

My grin stretches from ear to ear as my fingers wrap around his hand holding the gun and squeeze. The gun fires before he can even aim at me, shooting himself in his own leg. Maniacal laughter roars through me, muffling his cry of pain as I continue to squeeze his gun hand until bones break. He screams in protest, and it’s then I realize I have to bring this little foray to an end—before we draw unwanted attention.

Recognition wets his eyes, and I relish the fleeting moment of his swiftly approaching death.“Please, no…”

With an incredulous chuckle, I shake my head. “Perhaps if you had not threatened mysoulbound, I would have considered showing the same mercy you showed me.”Which is to say—none. But at least it would have been swifter.

“Instead, I will give you an equivalent death and it is a greater mercy than what awaits your soul in hell with the God of Death.”

Terror oozes from him, his garbled screams soon drowned out by the blood flooding his windpipe as my claws extend. I slowly press my fingers into the center of his chest, guiding my magic into the movement so that I can cut through flesh, bone, and marrow until my fingers wrap around his still beating heart and remove it from his chest.

Do I recognize that this is a little over the top?

Yes.

Do I care?

Not even remotely.

I canfeelthe whisper of death upon my neck, but I do not fear it because I know Azrael, the God of Death, would have done precisely the same or worse.

---