Page 7 of A Realm of Fire and Ash

I groan. The damn thing is gone.

Feeling around for anything portable and sharp, I come up empty. There goes impaling myself to death. My breathing comes in desperate pants, and the only other sound is groaning metal, and far-away shrieks of agony from prisoners who no doubt have been caught by the hydra.

Gods, don’t let that be Wilder.

My fingers feel for injuries, and come across a wet, tender gash in my leg. Below it is a jagged tear through my pants and the skin beneath. My jaw grinds as I palpate it, trying to check the extent of the damage. I could always yank the metal out and hope it nicks an artery.

Gripping the jagged metal fragment between my fingers, I take a shuddering breath and pull with all my might. A desperate howl rips its way out of me as pain crashes into me, followed by a wave of warmth that suggests something deep within me has been torn open. I gasp for breath as I fumble with the metal, accidentally dropping it into the dark depths below before I collapse, blood still pouring from my wound and my only chance at death now out of reach if this wound doesn't bleed me dry. I could be here for days.

My hand nudges a small, round bit of concrete and I grab onto it, feeling above my head for the slab of iron I know I'd felt just before I hit the ground. My palm meets the cool metal and I begin tapping the concrete against it, trying to make noise so the team can find me.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound echoes through the space above me, but it still isn't enough to be heard over the bloodshed taking place in the main part of the building.

Fuck.

I shift into my phoenix form, hoping my body has repaired itself enough to allow me flight. The transition is excruciating; whatever damage took place in the fall is exacerbating existing injuries and, in all likelihood, giving me new ones.

Closing my eyes, I take a moment to compose myself. Then, spreading my wings as wide as I can with the space I have, I prepare to take flight, only to plummet down, down, down.

Disappearing into the darkness of the pit, something bands around my midsection, wrenching me from my free fall. The motion knocks the wind out of me, and I'm crushed against a broad chest. Still unable to see, I use my other senses as I shift back into my fae form.

The scent of mint and faraway seas comes to me seconds before I feel a warmth over my eyes and hear the crunching of glass. My lower lip trembles with emotion, cutting off my breath.

He's here.

Just as I know I'll rise again from the dead, so, too, do I know his scent.

Seizing my wrist before I can do more than gasp in surprise, he pulls me back to him, his nose nuzzling against my neck, the breath stirring against my pulse.

"Little Bird," he coos. He’s the only person who gets to call me that. The sound is a mixture of heartache and disbelief, and I don't need to see him to know the pain we share.

* * *

2,000+ years ago

I've traversedthis unforgiving landscape countless times, but this journey is different. With Wilder by my side, I’m both exhilarated and terrified. Bringing an outsider into Castanea is a risk I've never taken before. Before we get there, it's two days of the worst conditions you'll ever encounter, as The Wastelands were designed to keep my people safe from the werewolves who would stop at nothing to kill us for their cure.

The sandstorm rages on, whipping grains of sand into a frenzy that blinds and suffocates us. We've been walking for hours, and I can feel the grit grinding between my teeth. The wind howls like a beast, and the stinging sand scours my skin. But Wilder keeps up, never once faltering or complaining.

The blistering sun pounds down on the barren landscape, heating the ground until it’s almost too hot to bear. Darkness descends, like an oppressive cloak that only brings with it a frigid chill on our sand-ravaged skin, our bodies pushed to the limits in this inhospitable expanse.

Finally, we reach a small cave carved into the side of a rocky face. It's a meager shelter, but it's better than nothing. I light a small fire, using my fae magic to protect it from the gusting winds. The warmth is a balm to our battered bodies, and we settle in for the night.

There's something so draining about spending the day traversing across scorching desert only to be freezing at night.

"Are you okay?" He pulls me close, and I press my face against his chest, shivering beneath the blanket that barely covers us both.

His arms are my sanctuary as I inhale his scent, like mint on the ocean breeze. I feel myself melting into his embrace as though he is not only my escape from the cold evening desert air, but a destination. Home. His touch is more comforting than any drug, and I never want to let go.

I've always been possessive of him. My phoenix, too. She rears her head any time someone lingers a little too long in his direction.

"Better with you." I peer up at him, brushing a smudge of dirt from his brow. His eyes are like the color of the deep sea, where creatures with bioluminescence glow in the darkness, and the water is a mysterious blend of navy blue and emerald green. It should feel unnatural to have his gaze on me, but it has only ever felt right. "Usually, I have to do this by myself."

Our bodies are crushed together, my heart pounding against his chest in a fierce rhythm. I can feel the heat emanating from his skin, enveloping me in warmth. I’m desperate to kiss him, but I restrain myself, scared of the repercussions.

I may not be his anchor, but I can't help the longing that fills my chest. We've never had sex, but I've thought about it. He's starred in every single one of my fantasies, and then some.

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