Page 34 of Death Comes for Her
“Goodbye, Mother,” I sucked down a sob. Then I touched the blazing end to her wings and set them ablaze.
Gold light exploded through the room. A flurry of wind sucked out the air in an overheated vortex. All six wings caught flame, melting like spun sugar. Gold wept from the pins, pooling in the glass and evaporating into gilded ashes. Mother’s aureate phantom dissipated in the rising swirls of smoke.
Burning.
My lips twitched in some semblance of victory, as though I’d won against grief. One skirmish in an eternal battle, but a great triumph all the same.
The flames spread orange and yellow, licking at the surroundings. Golden ashes fanned out in the whirlwind, sparking on every surface they danced upon. Heat kissed my legs as the velvet drapes caught fire. Then it rolled over thecarpet, jumped over the walls, leapt to the desk, spreading with scorching beauty.
Burning.
My arms spread wide, soaking in the heat, illuminated and reddened by the fire. A bubble of laughter escaped as my head dropped back. Then more, and more, until the manic sound of it mingled with the roaring flames and groaning of broken things.
I spun with glee, dancing in the flames like some otherworld creature left to its manic end. If I burned with Mother, well, I didn’t see that as the worst way to go. At least that way, Father might be proud when he saw me step through and join them beyond the veil.
“Oh, fuck!” A harsh voice grated with surprise.
I spun on my heel, tense and huffing for air, a wild look in my eyes as I glared at the dark-haired vampire filling the doorway. His knuckles turned white on the frame, his lip curled up, flashing fang. The brilliant flames behind me reflected in his gaze, dancing in the depths of his hazel eyes like a forest on fire.
“What the fuck have you done, you crazy fairy?” Dante whipped into the office, taking in every burning surface and flames leaping higher than his head. Something on his desk exploded, and he threw his arm in front of his face to shield it.
Burning.
A reply formed on my lips, but only manic laughter vented free.
Dante snapped his head at the sound, gaze wide and bewildered as if looking at me for the first time. Really looking at me, taking in every inch of me from my deranged, wild expression with tears staining my cheeks to my tensed muscles, ready to move, and finally to the dagger gripped possessively in my white-knuckled hand.
“Hand that over, Sierra,” he demanded.
His stance shifted, forgetting about the fires raging around us as he angled toward me. A predator tensing, going taut in preparation to lunge at its prey. But he didn’t realize I contained the pure unfiltered rage of a prey animal cornered, knowing it was soon to be eaten. Fueled by abject dread and vicious desperation, those instincts tangled with my unleashed grief to carry me further than he’d ever expect.
That trapped animal feeling behind my ribs writhed, scratching at my ribs.
Burning.
“You look like you’ve eaten the sun.” The cacophony of the fire almost stole his reverent whisper. He stole a step closer, shoulders rising and falling with each slow breath. The rage in his eyes dimmed, drowned out by the flames—no, snuffed out by heat of another kind.
I tipped the point of the dagger, aiming at the center of his chest. “Stay where you are, or I’ll eat you too.”
The corner of his mouth jerked, and his eyes gleamed dangerously.
“I believe that’s my line.” His stance hardened, every sculpted muscle in his mountainous frame fluttering under his skin. “Run, Sierra, because when I catch you, I’m going to do just that.”
He lunged, blurring through the air.
I shot my hand out, reacting on pure instinct and power. The blade made contact, slicing through fabric and flesh. Splatters of dark red blood sprayed the ash strewn floor.
“Fuck!”
I spun on my heel, leaping through the spreading flames and darting through the doorway. The vampire bellowed behind me, enraged and animalistic. But the sounds of his heavy thumping steps quickly followed as he gave chase. A predator on the hunt.
Burning.
Swirls of smoke clung to my skin as I barreled down the hallway. The cooler air in the corridor soothed the inflammation on my skin, but did nothing to calm the spark flickering in my belly. Fear and a wanton impulse struck against one another behind my navel, igniting like flint on steel.
Adrenaline slingshot me through the halls, a set of stairs, several twists and turns. My breath punched out of my lungs, the perspiration from the heat dripped down my spine, and my muscles strained with the effort of flinging myself into the chase—the game.
The bastard would punish me when he got his hands on me. I’d stolen back the dagger, set Mother’s wings to flame, and in the process destroyed his office, his personal space. Yet I’d held no concern over consequences once I’d woken from my walking dreams. Not when the vampires wanted me alive, not when they wantedme.
