Page 13 of Demon Sworn
The same way I feel.
And yet, he brought me that tea… My train of thought is derailed by Raz, who flares his wings.
Raz paces directly in the center, his black claws pushing out and then retracting so rapidly, I get whiplash. His leathery, claw-tipped wings flap with agitation behind him, almost as if he can’t be bothered to put them away but also doesn’t want them out.
What the hell is going on?
I glance at each of their faces, stunned to see similar expressions of defeat and anger on all of them. Akor looks bloodthirsty and slightly crazed, a sword in one hand and a machete in the other as he uses the latter to sharpen the former. Blood splatters stain his shirt and his pale cheeks. A sparkly grenade rests by his foot.
Van repeatedly runs a hand through his reddish-brown hair, his beautiful long-lashed eyes cast down and despondent. And Zolroth looks uncharacteristically rumpled in his form-fitting gray suit. Is that a…? Is that a stain on the sleeve? Why isn’t he jumping up in alarm and screaming to the Heavens that he needs to change his clothes?
You know shit is bad when Zolroth wears stained clothing. That makes my stomach sink, and the frantic, sparking, electric fear that Raz helped me get a handle on springs back to life, crackling and flickering.
I sidle a step closer, until I’m peering over the edge, still out of their direct line of view, half hidden by a potted plant we got so Jason would stop pissing on the furniture and the corner of the wall, and strain my one good ear to hear their muffled conversation.
“…she can’t fucking know,” Raz says, his voice a low growl. His wings expand behind him, all spindly, black, leathery muscle, before he takes a deep breath and pulls them back into his body. Almost as if they have a life of their own, they pop back out in tandem to his obvious agitation. “It’ll destroy her.”
She.
Her.
There’s only one person they could be talking about.
Me.
Oh God. Adam.
Panic causes me to momentarily lose my vision. Dark spots erupt in my eyes, and my body begins to shake erratically. I reach one hand out blindly and manage to grip the railing before I stumble forward.
No. No. No. No.
But while the guys look upset—and even slightly defeated—they don’t appear as devastated as they would’ve if something horrendous had happened to my little brother. I’m pretty sure Zolroth would be crying, maybe even Raz, if they knew Adam was hurt.
That thought gives me strength to take a deep, calming breath and focus once more on the conversation at hand. I’ll fall apart in the safety of my bedroom, but only when I have all of the information. The information they want to keep from me. My panic drops an octave—from a shrill internal sharp to a bass note that thrums between my ears—and I become angry.
“I agree.” Van’s voice cuts through my fury. “We’ll tell her when we know more, but for now, we need to keep this between us.”
Akor and Zolroth don’t look happy about it, but neither of them jumps to my defense.
What is so bad they want to keep it a secret from me? I thought we were a team, a family, and the fact that they’re stomping and spitting on those two terms… My anger wages war against the panic for dominance in a chaotic internal song. Beethoven’s fifth symphony has nothing on the dark shit playing through my mind.
Unbidden, my eyes drift to Kastros just as he begins to sign. He shakes his head rapidly from side to side until he’s captured the entire room’s attention.
Including mine.
His fingers fly furiously, and I have to work hard to keep up.No. No way in Hell. We’re not keeping this a secret from her. I’ll never lie to her again. How can you guys even think to keep this a secret from her?
My heart beats a staccato at the way he defends me, the way he fights for me, and a tiny seed of affection for the man buries itself in my stomach. But I don’t allow that affection to sprout and consume me. Not yet. Because his words aren’t enough.
“But we can’t tell her the truth,” Raz argues, forking his fingers through his sandy-blond hair. “It’ll destroy her.”
Lying to her will destroy her too.Something haunted appears in Kastros’s eyes, and he swallows heavily.I would know.
“So what the fuck do you want us to do, bossman?” Akor demands, finally dropping his machete and sword, which fall to the floor with a clatter and clank. Immediately once the weapons leave his hands, a tabby cat climbs across the back of the couch and perches snugly in his lap, seemingly unconcerned that he’d just been sharpening weapons less than a second ago. Akor pets the cat’s fur as he keeps his gaze fixed on Raz. “What do we do?”
All heads snap up to face me as I step out from behind the corner. “You tell me the truth,” I whisper as I stand, keeping my eyes locked on Raz’s. My voice is small, nothing more than a hushed murmur, but it captures everyone's attention. “Even if it breaks me.”
Because I can’t be any more broken than I already am.
