Page 87 of Obsidian and Frost
“Sylas won’t challengeme.”
He scoffed. “Of course he will. It’s what he does. And he gets off on doing it. I thought you knew him.”
“I do. He won’t challenge me because I saved his life.”
He shifted his weight. “What are you talking about? Why would somebody like him need that level of help?”
Interesting.“I was under the impression that the two of you were intimate.”
“Wow, your bravado about not being interested in Velra is falling apart all over the place. You’ve been spying on us—the men in her life.”
“Take your leave.”
Instead, he stepped up to me. “How did you save his life? What happened?”
It wasn’t really my place to tell. However, Sylas shouldn’t have sent him my way. As such, if it would help to remove him from my vicinity and provide me time to determine my course of action regarding Velra now that Lazriel had brought this to my door, so be it.
“He is unwell.”
He choked at my words. “What are you talking about? No. No, that’s not true.”
“You can’t smell it on him?”
“All I smell is that potent scent of Bergamot.”
Ah,he was masking his scent with magic. “That is an illusion. More specifically, a glamor. Sylas doesn’t care for demonstrating any sort of weakness, so that makes a great deal of sense.”
“How serious is it, then?”
“He is gravely ill, youngling.”
“No.No.He seems… normal. Strong. Powerful.”
“You haven’t witnessed his magic fritzing?”
I saw the realization flare in his eyes. He had seen it. Sylas had of course written it off, likely claiming it was over-exertion, that he was tired, something along those lines.
Lazriel clenched his fists, his eyes darting around erratically.
“Just… sort your shit out where Velra is concerned,” he spoke, a moment before he burst back through the door and disappeared with his vampiric speed.
I closed the door and sealed the ward with a flick of my magic, then sank against the wall heavily.
Hades.
16
~Lazriel~
Shit,I loved her bike.
And I lovedheron it.
It was a custom Harley V-twin, a street beast optimized for agility and tricks. It was a rich, metallic amethyst purple with onyx-black on the engine block, pipes, handlebars, rims, and grip, creating a high contrast gritty edge.
I’d known she’d had the bike for a while, but seeing her work the beauty was a whole other thing.
It was uncanny, because with so much else she was incredibly cautious, but riding was one of those things where that went out the window, as had become undeniably apparent over the last two hours since we’d been roaring and stunting down the backroads surrounding the Academy.
