Page 50 of A City of Flames

I twist around slowly as the dragon lands in front of me. The rolls of air from its nostrils brush my hair back in waves. Flames rise all around the dragon, encasing it until I can no longer see any scales, and as the bright blaze dies down, out comes a man with long, ragged dark hair and a face pale as ice. He’s shifted back to his human form.

Fingers crack and click, drawing my gaze to them. Despite how hard it is to catch shifters, something always gives away who is human and who isn’t.

Twin tattoos on their hands, of the power they are born with. A Merati’s symbol—three lines with two arrows on each one, the first meaning illusions, the second manipulator of emotions, and the third dreams. While an Umbrati shows a spiral, and just like the man in front of me, his Ardenti tattoos are of whorls of fire.

Instinct reels in as he nears, and with sharp precision, I swing my sword. He twists, causing me to miss, and his lips peel back into a vicious smile as he unfurls his palm, igniting flames.

“What a wild thing you are.”

I launch my sword at him, at his arm, to cut down on it before he can use that power.

He laughs as he throws a shield up with that fire. I widen my eyes when I see what he’s about to do, I dip under him just as he sends a fireball towards me. I twirl, seeing an opening, and don’t waste a second shoving the sword through skin and chest. He cries out as I tear it from him but much to my panic, he carefully turns, holding onto the blood surging like gushing waters.

“You missed my heart,” he snarls, and I don’t have the chance to duck or strike again as his hand comes out to my neck, slamming me so hard against the stone walls that I see the stars.

The force and pain rock my sight; I drop the sword and grab his arm to push it away.

“There’s something about you that—” A vile reek of alcohol from his breath causes me to grimace. Everything seems to be blurring as he tilts his head and says, “—I can’t quite pinpoint... it’s almost mesmerizing.”

“Wish I could say the same about you, but I’d rather pluck my eyes out.” My throat closes as he presses his palms tighter.

“Well, aren’t you a vulgar mortal,” he trills, kicking the sword further away. “Maybe you’d benefit a bite from a shifter.”

My scream of anger comes out torn as he seizes my arm and his fangs lengthen, shooting me a horrid grin.

He can’t bite me. He can’t.

I’m trying to free myself, but he only pulls harder, locking me in place and lowering his mouth to my wrist.

No, no, no—

Small, ragged breaths throttle out of the shifter as the curve of his canines never sink in. He releases me as I choke out a gasp, and looking up, I furrow my brows in heavy confusion, noticing a black shadow wrapping around his neck.

Violent specks, a chain of some sort, the same that—

Oh, Solaris.

Stumbling away, the shifter turns his back to me, and I step out of the way to see the Golden Thief standing there with Tibith to his side, covering those large eyes. Not daring to look.

Dangerous eyes bore into the shifter, like nothing I’ve ever seen from the Golden Thief before. It’s almost murderous with a hint of his familiar derision as he holds his gloved hand out, focusing all his power to strangle the man.

In turn, the shifter wheezes, clawing at his own neck. “Darius, what are you doing here?”

My shocked gaze goes back and forth between the two. Darius... the Golden Thief’s name is Darius.

“It’s a little hard to go around stealing when an attack has broken out.” The Golden Thief—Darius—says, his palms closing as if tightening that magic. A harsh smirk sneaks up on him. “And a bite? How low do you have to stoop, Hake?”

“Stop—please,” Hake begs.

Darius narrows his eyes, never seeming to loosen that shadow grip on the shifter. “Why should I?”

In the swift second that Darius doesn’t make any move to let go of Hake, I glance at the sword on the floor and dash for it.

I then rise, and with a blood-curdling cry from my lungs, I plunge it into Hake’s heart. A nauseating grunt of pain releases from him as the shadows disintegrate into dust. The sword was that sharp; I could feel it go through tissue... arteries.

Retracting the blade, blood glistens off the weapon, dripping as he slumps down.

Short of breath, I look up to Darius’s brows rising and nodding slowly at the stiff body on the floor. “Well then. It’s a good thing I never liked him.” Amber eyes shift to me. “However, I’m starting to think you enjoy all our encounters being this way, venator.”

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