Page 89 of Slay Me

Wings cradle me, and I have to push past them in order to sit up. He doesn’t move, his massive head lolled to the side. “No!” I scream, my gut churning with fear. “Please, no. Wake up! Wake the fuck up!” I scream at him as I climb down and kneel beside his head. I run my hands over his iridescent purple and blue scales as they glint beneath the moon. So beautiful.

My soul shatters right alongside his broken body.

“Wake up,” I whisper. “Please wake up.”

His body jerks. Then he begins to shift. Hope burns in my chest while I wait for him to wake up, but when his human form appears, that hope disappears near instantly. Blood soaks the ground beneath him.

It clings to my fingertips when I lift his head and place it in my lap.

Tears stream down my cheeks, my chest aching like someone just dropped a fucking dragon-sized anvil on it. I turn my attention back to Dante. “Please wake up.” I stroke his cheek. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, his chest barely rising and falling.

“Serves you right, you fucking whore.”

I look up, surprised to see that Fiona has dragged Ernesto down the stairs and out onto the street. She has him on his knees, a blade pressed to his eye. Duncan, Killian, and Bracken—now naked men with blood-streaked chests—stand directly behind her, their expressions ones of rage, grief, and disbelief.

“Speak again,” she growls, “And I’ll cut your fucking eye from the socket.”

I shift my gaze back to Ernesto. He grins at me, a sadistic smile I’ve seen on his face far too many times.

He tookeverythingfrom me.

Broke my heart.

Crushed my soul.

Made me feel weak.

Useless.

Something within me snaps, and a darkness spreads. Magic burns in me. Fury power, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. This bastard has tortured without mercy, killed without hesitation, and spent an entire lifetime collecting supernaturals for his statue room.

Why should he be allowed to breathe when Dante will likely not draw another breath?

Slowly, I set Dante’s head to the ground and stand. Sniffling, I stop in front of my own personal nightmare. “Stand,” I order.

“You heard her, fuckstick,” Fiona snarls, ripping him up from the ground.

Ernesto’s flesh pales. “For the last twelve years, you’ve been my boogeyman. The monster under my bed. The shadow in my nightmares. But I’m done,” I spit the last words out.

“Glad to hear I made an impression,” he sneers.

Magic roars through my veins, calling to me in a way. A gust of wind pulls at my body, so I fucking embrace it. “Let him go.”

“Are you—”

“Yes,” I interrupt.

“Try anything and I’ll carve out your eyes then feed them to you,” Fiona threatens as she lets Ernesto go.

He glares at me, puffing up his chest in an attempt to intimidate me. “What the hell do you think you’re going to do?” He taunts. “You’ve proven that your magic is just as useless as you are!”

A slow smile spreads over my face, and I let my magic free. It slams into him, throwing him back into the ground. He thrashes, trying to break free, but the power holds firm. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, my resolve steady.

Ernesto will die tonight.

And it will be me who kills him.

Me who frees myself from the hold he has over me.

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