Page 68 of Demonic Division

My muscles freeze as the familiar voice breaks out behind me, and my smirk works its way into a snarl as I turn slowly to face the intruder. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

A mirthless laugh pierces the air, and I take my time running my gaze down Slaine’s frame, taking in theimmaculate sleet-colored armor encasing his chest and forearms. He’s in his warrior's garb—dark gray dermal armor sticking to his body like a second skin, cutting off at his chin and wrists—and though I would never admit it to his face, the false demon king looks rather imposing standing there with an army of hundreds at his back.

I glance over his shoulder, scowling at the sight of those salivating demons—the lack of humanity behind their soulless, milky eyes. “I need to take care of something. Is that a problem?” I ask, turning my gaze back to Slaine. “Surely, you can handle a few battered and unconscious demons.”

“Hm.” A puff of vapor blows out from his nose, partially covering the severe set of his mouth. He gazes over my shoulder, white eyes widening slightly at the sight of Dagny’s slumped body. “Is that thethingyou need to take care of?”

I frown but decide not to answer, prompting Slaine to blow out another frustrated breath. “She was not part of the deal.”

“Well, she is now,” I snap, my skin shuddering as the beast within tries to rise up. “She’smine.And if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your head from your shoulders. I don’t care if your cronies kill me afterward.”

Slaine looks me up and down, a piece of gray hair falling over his brow, partially obscuring his strange, milky eyes. “Fine. Do what you must.” He turns on his heel without another word, gesturing for his soldiers to follow him over to Kaebl’s body.

I watch as they begin to collect Lir, Cyprien, Roark, and Kaebl, binding their legs and arms before attempting to lift them into the sky. It takes three of Slaine’s soldiers to carrythe weight of each piece, but there are plenty of bodies to spare.

My gaze follows the soldiers until they disappear over the horizon, and long after. I don’t have to see them to know where they’re going—straight and true toward Slaine’s castle, where Kaebl and the others will be imprisoned. Perhaps he’ll even kill Cyprien, Lir, and Roark, but not Kaebl. According to the deal I made with Slaine before Kaebl imprisoned me, he will keep the golden-eyed demon alive.

So unfortunate the core piece must be preserved.

My frown deepens as I turn back toward Dagny, eating up the last of the distance with a few long strides. I crouch at her side, reaching out and gently brushing my palm over her hair. Her cheeks are bright pink and frosted with snowflakes, the same as the ones clinging to her lashes, giving her a beautiful, ethereal look.

I lean down, brushing my lips lightly against hers, causing gentle sparks of electricity to flow from her skin to mine.Lovely little fire. Beautiful flame in my palm.

I pull her limp body into my arms, careful not to damage her fragile skin with my claws. Her mouth twitches, and she buries her head into my chest, a barely perceptible groan falling from her open lips. The bond hums in appreciation, and I take another moment to stand there, just feeling her beneath my palms. Committing every last perfect inch of her to memory.

When I’ve had my fill of her, I push off the ground, my wings beating the air as I take us into the upper atmosphere. The air thins, and I level out, catching the crosswind and letting it take me in the direction of Slaine’s castle.

There’s still one last thing to take care of.

41

Kaebl

Pain.

The fire flows from the center of my chest, spreading to my limbs and consuming every last millimeter of flesh in its warpath. My veins sizzle from the heat, scorching the air and framing my silhouette in a dense cloud of vapor, one which conceals the shadows shuddering beneath my skin.

Loss.

I throw my head back, desperate to release a scream that won’t come. I’m trapped in the prison of this broken body once more, forced into silence. Into submission. And this time, I don’t have my other pieces to help me. Worse than anything, though, is the knowledge something has been taken from me. Something more important than my life or any other. More significant than any power I could possibly possess or wield.

Dagny.

Agony flares to life anew at the thought of her beautiful silver-rimmed eyes. The image of her staring up with that light only she possesses. Illuminating the dark, forgotten pieces of me which only she can.

They took her from me.

I slam my fist into the ground, the sound of chains clanking too far away for me to hear. I’m vaguely aware of the matching restraints on my ankles and neck—bolting me to the wall like an animal—but I can’t find it in me to care about the pain they cause. These restraints won’t keep me. They cannot hold me back from her.

I need to find Dagny.

I rail against the chains; pulling and tearing at the iron, at my flesh, all in a desperate attempt to free myself. I would gnaw off my own limbs if I thought I could live through the ordeal. Left with no other options, I find the thought becomes a debate, which morphs into a necessity. I’m just about to enact it when the door creaks open, drawing my attention to the small beam of light spilling across the stone floors.

A pair of clawed feet stalk into the room, each step silent save for the intentional languid scraping of a single claw. I follow the outline up to his face, my lip peeling back in a snarl as I make contact with his menacing red eye.

What have youdone?I demand, rage cresting in my veins at the sight of his insipid smirk.Where are the other pieces?

---