Page 93 of Dawn of Chaos and Fury
“Because Theon is the one who can get to Tessa, and Tessa has visions,” she said.
His heart sank at her words. At her utter desperation.
He stepped forward, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear as he said gently, “Kitten, I?—”
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, stepping out of his reach. “Tessa has visions, and she will tell me what the Witches won’t. She doesn’t care about the Fates or the gods.”
“Tessa doesn’t care about anyone but herself, Kat,” Axel said, his voice hardening. “We are not letting her near our son.”
“We have to try, Axel,” she pleaded.
He shook his head, not knowing what to say. “None of what you are saying is logical.”
Flames flickered in her eyes again, but tears glimmered there too, along with an unwavering resolve. “Find a way to get me in touch with Theon or Luka. Someone who can get me to Tessa. Or I’ll do it myself.”
His throat was on fire.
No,hewas on fire.
That was all he could think as he thrashed.
His arms, his legs.
His godsdamn throat.
It took him a minute to register someone was holding him down. Or attempting to.
He snarled, throwing all his strength into his burning muscles as he flipped the person off him, pinning them down. Everything was a blur. A haze that he couldn’t see through.
But he could touch and taste andsmell.
He could smell the blood now squirming beneath him. As if it could get away from him.
It was fire and shadows and power.
And it washis.
His fingers skimmed warm flesh, and it stilled beneath his touch. But he could hear the ragged breathing. The panting. Could feel a chest heaving as he walked his fingertips higher, along the hollow of a throat. The column of a neck. Until they stopped on a pulse, beating rapidly. Thrumming with something he’d been craving for days and days. Weeks. Months. Maybe his entire life.
He leaned in, inhaling deeply. Let his fangs drag along that pulse point. He inhaled again, ready to feast.
Then he was growling in pain and fury as he was thrown to the ground, landing hard on his back. The air was knocked from his lungs, but he didn’t care as he tried to scramble to his feet to chase down what was his.
Only he couldn’t move. Or, at least, he couldn’t move his limbs.
“Axel.”
The voice was far away, trying to break through his anger and bloodlust and want.
“Axel, look at me.”
He snarled again, and whatever was keeping him contained burned. The snarl morphed into a bellow of pain, but broke through the all-consuming need. He blinked, everything coming into focus.
Including his wife standing over him murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Her hands were raised, flames in her palms while cords of shadows held him to the floor. She didn’t look fearful ofhim, even though she godsdamn should be. Unshed tears were glimmering, but she wouldn’t let them fall as she watched him.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Axel?”
