Page 82 of Griffin Undone
The flash of his white-hot eyes staring at the sky.
Shoving my hands toward him. “Off!”
Just as my palms hit the shifter’s chest, I let loose the molten electricity balled at my core. It streamed down my arms, my fingers, coalescing in my palms where they connected with Walter’s breastbone. It hurt. God, how it hurt. But I didn’t stop. Instead I yelled a second time, pressing harder, and beneath my hands bones popped, muscles tore, flinging bits of body everywhere as the shifter flew back and away. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the blood I could feel dripping from my hands and face, the mess I knew the Anigma would be, the satisfaction I briefly glimpsed on Arik’s face. All I could do was lie there and pray I didn’t lose the contents of my stomach.
Heavy boots ground the dust on the pavement beneath them as Arik approached. He passed me, the sound of his steps stopping where I figured the other male had landed. “Not bad, Kitty Kat. Not bad at all.”
A grunt escaped me. Opening my eyes, I stared up into the night sky.
No stars. How appropriate.
Arik came to stand directly above me. I met his gaze, searching, unsure what I was looking for, but the golden glow in his eyes hid whatever was behind them. One hand reached to help me up. The light of Arik’s stare washed over me as I took his hand, highlighting the gore flecked over my arm. It was the last straw.
Rolling quickly, I scrambled away. My mouth watered, bile rising, and I swallowed repeatedly, trying to keep it down. Frantically I wiped my hands on my clothes—I’d never wear them again anyway. Never again.
It took long minutes for the nausea to settle. When I finally managed to gain my feet, I refused to turn and look at Arik. Something tickled along my lip. I unzipped my jacket and swiped the thankfully clean inner material across my mouth, pulling it back to find a smear of bright red blood on the cloth. Leaning against the brick wall in front of me, I sniffed and willed my shaky body back under control.
A faint whispering in the wind caught my attention. As I watched, the splatters of shifter tartar on my pants shriveled, went white, and blew away in the wind. I lifted my head to see the shifter’s body transforming into a shriveled husk of gray ash that slowly floated off into the night.
I shivered hard enough to pop my spine.
“You get used to it, you know.”
“Used to what?” I asked absently, my thoughts on the disappearing body.
“Killing.”
I finally turned to face Arik, meeting his eyes, searching for some hint of the lover, the man who’d touched me with tenderness, brought me such pleasure. All I found was the warrior staring back at me. No doubt after a thousand years, Arik had gotten very used to killing. It was the path he’d chosen, after all.
That didn’t mean I would.
“I’m not judge and jury, Arik, and I sure as hell am not executioner. I can’t be responsible for deciding who will live and who won’t.”
Those amber eyes flashed. Arik blew out a deep breath, his face grim. “Unfortunately for you, whoever or whatever gave you that power”—he nodded toward my trembling hands—“decided otherwise. That means you don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice. I can’t do this. I won’t.”
Arik’s mouth was a grim slash below his amber eyes. “You can. You will. You proved it tonight. You just need more practice.”
More fighting. More death. That’s what he meant.
Confusion, nausea, and pain made my voice small when I finally managed to whisper, “Can we go now?”
“Let me clean up first.”
Clean up what? But I didn’t ask. Instead I turned back to the brick wall, leaned my head against it, and waited. My brain and heart still throbbed with the aftermath of energy, and when the tickle on my lip came again, I swiped at it absently. Looked down.
Blood.
Nosebleed. I couldn’t bring myself to care. Without conscious thought I slid to sit against the wall and waited, swiping the blood away, letting the scent of garbage and cold air cut the smell of death filling me up. Just for a few moments. It wasn’t like I’d forget. It was branded on my pain-filled mind, in my bruised muscles, my aching hands, my bleeding nose. A reminder.
“You don’t have a choice.”
No, I didn’t. I had to leave.
ChapterThirty-Five
Sun
