Page 88 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

But the vampire bared her fangs in a vicious, knowing smile. “Let it go, and I’ll make this swift.”

Her magic. “Not a chance,” Zylah muttered, the shadows at the edges of her vision beginning to darken.

“Your choice,” the female spat. She slid her hand up her blade a second time, the sword crackling with more magic, swinging it at Zylah without hesitation.

The moment their blades connected, a deafening crack rent the rock between their feet, the ground tilting as the balcony began to shatter. But Zylah didn’t let it distract her. Didn’t let the taste of ash divert her attention, or the stench of burning flesh where her hands held tight to her sword, adrenaline and the ecstasy of using her magic this way cutting through the pain.

She evaded another swipe of the female’s blade, threads tearing at the magic from both swords and channelled it through her fingertips, aiming for the centre of the vampire’s chest. Pain erupted down her arm. Bolts of white-hot power slammed into the female’s body, halting her in her tracks.

The vampire’s sword clattered against stone, face contorted in pain, mouth open in a silent scream as cracks formed along her skin. Bright, white light erupted from her, so blinding Zylah had to look away from it. With another ear-splitting boom the light receded, leaving only the vampire’s charred corpse and her sword sputtering out beside it.

Zylah fell to her knees, clutching her burnt hand to her chest, barely remaining upright as she caught her breath. The threads sizzled and spat, every one of them an assault to her senses. But she forced herself to her feet, her attention snapping to the far side of the balcony where Malok and Holt fought together to take on the final vampire, shadows narrowing her vision.

Malok’s guards attacked more of the creatures at the balcony’s broken edge, pieces of it crumbling away and falling into the ocean far below. Two guards followed it, but there were too many thralls to cut through for Zylah to evanesce after them, regret slowing her movements, knowing that no one could survive that drop into the water.

The balcony shuddered beneath them again, her gaze darting to the two large cracks that zigzagged across it. “Malok,” Zylah called out. “Order your guards back.Now.”

“Do as she says,” the High Lord bellowed, and Fae scrambled for purchase against the tilt of the balcony, some scrambling over thralls and dead Fae.

Holt still hadn’t used his power to its full extent, Malok always too close for him to use it safely. The vampire darted between them, so much faster than Jesper had been, barely a blur as he laughed at the two powerful Fae.

Zylah helped the guards clamber to safety, cutting through thralls as she kept her eyes pinned on Holt. Her threads were sluggish, too slow for the vampire pivoting and spinning, and she caught the glint of his blade slashing out at Malok a moment too late to stop it.

But Holt had seen it. Roots erupted from the shattered balcony, one wrapping around the blade and another shoving Malok back just as the sword pressed against his chest, a third anchoring the High Lord to part of the balcony.

The vampire snarled. Released his weapon and threw his weight at Holt. The pair of them slammed into the crumbling balcony, rolling too fast towards the precipice.

Zylah screamed Holt’s name, threads reaching out a heartbeat too late before the rock broke away, the vampire tumbling with him over the edge.

Chapter Forty-Four

Zylahheldherbreathas she fought two thralls, waiting for Holt to evanesce over the wall of the ruined balcony, to reappear at her side. When more pieces of stone fell away, panic slicing through her, she darted through the aether to the crumbling wall and peered over the edge. Just in time to see Holt and the vampire crash into the ocean far beneath her, water shooting up as they broke the surface.

She choked back a sob, already moving through the aether again, her exhausted threads reaching for him as she reappeared beneath the roiling waves, the water so cold it cut like a thousand knives piercing her skin. The urge to suck in another lungful of air tore at her throat, but she turned in the frigid water, threads reaching out for her mate as she searched for him in the inky blue.

Everything hurt. The burns on her hands, the sting of the water, the ache in her lungs. And she’d evanesced into the ocean. Holt hadfallen. Had been grappling with a fucking vampire. Zylah couldn’t lose him again. Wouldn’t. But dark spots hung in her vision, the salt burning her eyes, her other sight failing with how far she’d stretched herself.

A blast rippled through the water, slamming into her chest and almost forcing the breath from her lungs. Holt. Zylah swam towards it, down into the depths, using her threads to anchor herself to his body. His soul. Deeper and deeper, until her dread threatened to take hold at how quickly he was sinking. Why wasn’t he kicking for the surface?

The vampire floated past in the swell. Dead. Zylah shoved aside her panic, urged herself to focus on Holt, to reach out in the water and evanesce her way to him. She reappeared at his side, swallowing down her fear and the urge to gasp as her fingers closed around his wrist and he sank deeper. Unconscious, eyes shut, blood drifting away from a wound she couldn’t see. The last of her breath burned in her chest, screaming at her to evanesce them to the shore. But nothing happened.

A string of bubbles slipped from her lips as Zylah almost choked on a sob, Holt’s weight dragging them down as she tried to kick with everything she had.Please,she begged him, her threads, her magic, desperation amplifying her panic.

She spun around in the water to face him, her hand brushing his face, pulling and pulling and pulling on the place within her that allowed her to evanesce. It couldn’t end this way. Zylah wouldn’t let it. She pressed a kiss to Holt’s lips, the ocean washing away her tears as her lungs burned.Please.

And then they were moving through the aether, Zylah coughing and gasping for breath as she brought them to the rocks at the base of the cliff, waves breaking against the flat shelf behind them.

Holt didn’t cough. Didn’t gasp for breath. Didn’t move. Zylah slammed a fist to his chest as she heaved in lungfuls of air. Her other vision had failed completely, and all that remained of her eyesight was a narrow field of view where she could make out the too-still body of her mate, the rest of the world blotted out to shadow.

“Please, Holt,” she rasped, another fist slamming at his chest, what little magic she had left pouring into him to work his heart, his lungs.Don’t go somewhere I can’t find you, she said down their bond, whatever remained of it.

Blood soaked his shoulder and pooled with the water at his neck, no doubt a bite from the vampire, and Zylah half choked, half sobbed as she held her hands over it to try and staunch the bleeding, her threads wrapping around his body and pressing against his skin. His skin that had turned ashen, his lips already blue.

Remember me, please, Zylah begged in that space that had once been just for them. “Take whatever you need.”Just don’t leave me like this, she pleaded. She slammed her fist on his chest again and again as she let go of her healing magic, anything to make him bring up water, to kickstart his heart, to jolt it awake.

To jolt it.

Zylah sucked in a breath, flattening her hands over Holt’s chest and thought of the female vampire’s electrifying magic, of the way she’d used sparks to ignite her sword. Her gaze swept over him, snagging at the scar peeking from the neckline of his shirt. And Zylah froze. The scar Marcus had given him, using magic that was far too similar to the vampire’s.

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