Page 225 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness
Small orbs of golden light fell from a dark, war-torn sky.
Idris and I locked eyes. My jaw trembled.
“You remember,” I whispered.
Idris was stunned. He watched the tiny stars fall to the earth with the same awe he’d had as a child on the nights I’d sneak into his room when he was crying.
He’d cried until his voice was gone and his face was cherry-red, but our parents never came for him.
SoIcame for him. I would sit across from his crib with my legs crossed.
“Wanna see the stars?” I’d ask.
I used my still-developing power—the power Mama hated—to conjure tiny orbs of light until Idris went from sobbing to babbling gleefully.
The stars had looked like freedom.
Idris nodded, a small smile forming. “I remember everything, Evie.”
“Celestial magick,” Kylo murmured, staring at Idris with wide, awestruck eyes.
Idris moved to stand, and it was an arduous, wobbly effort. “Do not expect me to do that again anytime soon.”
Clarke rushed to steady him. “Seems reasonable,” he gasped. His own bright green eyes studied my brother in utter shock. “What the fuck kind of bloodline do you two hail from?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” I said for both of us. Kylo helped me to my feet.
Idris smiled. “Our power isn’t fromher.It exists in spite of her.”
I hugged him tight. The street was noticeably quieter than before. Fighting hadn’t stopped, but Idris had eliminated so many born at once that they were likely retreating to regroup—perhaps wondering what the fuck they were supposed to donow.
I grinned. “I’m sorry for ever trying to hold you back.”
“I forgave you after the first dozen apologies,” Idris said dryly.
I almost apologized for apologizing, but I thought better of it. The fact that we even survived our childhood was already a miracle. But our strength? The depth of our love for our new home, our chosen family, for this world that had been so extraordinarily cruel to us?
We pulled back, facing each other with a mirrored smile. “Look at us,” I whispered.
Idris laughed. “I think they’re looking.”
70
EVIE
At some point, the fighting had turned into real dancing. I was swept up in a tide of celebration that carried us through the streets. Mortals gave us food and alcohol and blood. Musicians sang and played songs from open windows.
For the first twenty-four years of my life, I’d hid from the world. I preferred fantasy to reality because I’d allowed my reality to become so heartbreakingly small. I didn’t know how to dream bigger than my self-imposed cage of trauma.
Not until Kylo helped me break myself free.
His love changed me. And Etherdale’s love, my friends’ and clan’s love—it changed me even more.
What was left of Earle’s men had pulled out of the city. More forces were heading our way, but they would be slowed by turned clans rising up all over the realm. Not to mention, our most powerful allies would be here in less than a week.
All of Kylo’s moving pieces were falling into place, locking Etherdale into her destiny. We were the hub of the revolution, where mortals and vampires would flock to train and fight with us. We were a heart with shadowed veins shooting out in all directions.
This war was far from over, but Etherdale was ours. Lord Conrad was dead, and our masks were off. Once the Serpent Clan joined us, our regional stronghold would be cemented. The war would slowly creep north, which would drive Earle even madder than his dissenters’ allegations.
