Page 33 of House of Demons and Bones

Claws,Sy corrected.My claws.She never let anyone steal her credit.

I had no time for a petty debate. And I didn’t worry about my friends seeing the claws, as their eyes couldn’t track my lightning-fast motions. Speed was my brand.

I yanked my claws free, and Deathsong returned to my palm. I launched again, changing lanes to land atop another Shrieker and strike.

When Cami led the group to the battlefield, only one Shrieker remained. She hurled air and fire magic at the abomination without hesitation. Despite her impressive power, her magic slid off the Shrieker like a sneeze. She blinked and tried again, anger fueling her. The others joined in, Bea’s potent spells included, but the Shrieker swatted their collective assaults aside, like throwing away children’s toys, before stomping toward them.

“Eat this!” Drusilla shouted, her dagger flying true, hitting the sweet spot between the Shrieker’s eyes. It bounced off harmlessly.

My friends stumbled back, fear sparking in their eyes.

“Send me your elemental magic,” I called. “Trust me. Now!”

They unleashed fire, wind, and spells. I scooped up their power, branded it with mine, and hurled our newly combined power at the last Shrieker. Flames engulfed it as it screeched.

My friends clapped their hands over their ears until the sound died away. They stared at me, stunned, seeing me in a new light. A strange glint lit Cami’s blue eyes as she considered me. Bea, however, puffed up her small chest in pride while at the same time something in her gaze hinted at unease.

We stood over the Shrieker corpses, their stench fouling the air.

“Ho-how did you fight like that?” Lola asked. She’d never seen me in action.

The others had witnessed my brawls, but none, not even Bea, had seen me wield a blade, let alone summon one from thin air. And Deathsong wasn’t just any blade. As the evilest weapon in existence, forged by my father, it would corrupt any mind except mine. I was its mistress, immune to its persuasion.

My friends shuddered as Deathsong brushed at their minds. It backed off at my scolding, and my friends’ unease faded.

“If you’d fought the way you fought those monsters,” Drusilla drawled, “no one would’ve stood a chance in the ring.”

Drusilla had been one of those who had entered the ring to beat me up, blaming me for injuring her prince. I’d let them vent and inflict violence on me due to my own guilt and grief. They didn’t know that I was the real danger. I could drain the realm, kill countless beings with a flick of my wrist. I always held back. Otherwise, I’d be just like my father.

I shrugged. “When I have to fight, I fight, but my beef isn’t with anyone here. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not competing for a bride spot. They’re stupid to come after me. I won’t kill vicious bride candidates who wish me harm if I don’thave to.” I toed a Shrieker’s head. “These abominations are a different story.”

They stared at me, finally seeing the pro killer in their midst. My face had gone cold while slaughtering the Shriekers.

I dropped the mask, cracked my knuckles, and grinned to lighten the mood.

“Feels good blowing off steam,” I said.

“Now I get why the heirs want you,” Drusilla said. “They like lethal things, and you’re as ruthless as them.”

“I’m nothing like them,” I said, then I froze, sensing the apex predator approaching.

“Let’s all go back to class,” Cami ordered. “I’ll report?—”

Thunder cut her off, rolling across the horizon. A heartbeat later, lightning rose behind the hill. Only one being commanded lightning like that.

Killian was coming.

My heart pounded erratically, blood racing in my veins. How would he react to seeing me? I hated to admit I’d never stopped wanting him, even with a broken heart.

Like a dark god, Killian appeared on the hilltop, his storm-blue eyes pinning me right away. Even with the distance between us, electricity crackled in the air. My body lit up and hummed, my need for him rising to a crescendo.

His gaze raked over me, checking for injuries before scanning the carnage of the battlefield—dead Shriekers everywhere. He bolted down the hill, moving so fast I could barely track him. The wake of his speed sent my golden curls dancing.

In moments, he stood two feet from me, visibly restraining himself from yanking me into his arms.

The others dropped into unified bows. “Your Highness.”

I stayed upright, as I bowed to no one, not even the God of Ruin himself. And I never begged, no matter how he inflicted pain on me and leached my life force.

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