Page 24 of The Surrender

At first, the fallen angel disappears from my line of sight. The panic swallows me. Rips the air from my lungs.

“Is it getting dark in your great big heart and soul?”

Not Kyan. I want to shake my head, but the collar prevents it. The demon leans in so close to breathe me in before laughing. The sound is devilish and cruel and plagues the air, echoing off the expanse.

“You reek of fear, pretty spirit moth. Now, you will know what it feels like when you cannot fly, when you cannot escape. Not even from the demons within your mind.”

“No...” it’s caught halfway between a whimper and a whisper.

Cold air whips across my side, and I dart my eyes to each side. Shadow has forsaken me. Kyan has left me. Merikh has abandoned me.

I gaze out at the endless curtain of ashy gray clouds. The darkness threatens to devour me whole. It might be the opposite of underground, but the scars still prey on me regardless. I cannot take deep inhales and exhales to steady myself because the wind is too fierce and cold, it surges crystals into my nostrils. I cannot curl into a little ball to shrink myself.

First, I focus on the sight before me.

Ribbons of gray clouds curtain the sky—ever-moving. Lower peaks pierce the fabric of the gray clouds like towers of a citadel. Snow piles pillow my knees.

I shiver from the frost.

No moon sheds silver light to sparkle upon the nearby mountains. No waxing and waning moon to reassure me of the shifting of time.

Minutes dwindle into a blur. My imagination transforms the gray clouds into specters to haunt me. Phantasms that whirl little snowstorms to flail my hair and face. It’s not long before the strands have iced over and frozen to my cheeks. The crystalline frost feeds on my naked skin.

What if they don’t return? What if they decide to be done with me once and for all? Or worse: what if I’m not strong enough to last the night?

My body locks up tighter than the shackles and collar chaining me.

Worse than the icy wind slaughtering my form, freezing my veins, and chattering my teeth until I am afraid they will break is the fear of turning numb all over again. Of fading into the darkness, becoming nothing more than a ghost to join the lost specters around me.

Thunder cracks against the mountainside, stunning me from the plague of dark thoughts. I jump so hard, expecting the chains to rattle, but they’re too strong, too anchored. When the raindrops fall, each like a splinter to cut into me, I whisper silent gratitude in my mind for the storm.

I’d rather feel every ounce of absolute terror as long as I don’t fade again.

18

"You were there for me, Merikh. From the beginning!"

KYAN

“What the fuck have you done?”

I curl my upper lip to showcase a sharp incisor, warning the bellowing dragon who thunders his way into my Great Hall.

“I care not if you are the alpha of us, brother...” I confront Drago as he ascends the steps to the dais where our thrones rest.

I block his way, preventing him from reaching eye level with me. A low growl rumbles from his chest, but I splay my wings in direct opposition, a show of threat.

“I am the Lord of the Court of Storms. Not you. It is my will and word to do as I see fit. You may prefer kink dungeons with your array of medieval instruments. But there is more to matters of the heart and soul beyond the heat of blood and flesh.”

Mayce advances toward Drago from behind and cups his partner’s shoulder, steadying the dragon for a breath. In contrast, my partner remains fixed on his throne, monitoring the proceedings, though I feel his eyes boring into my back. Unlike Drago and Mayce, the vampire understands my every move from the smallest twitch to the slightest alteration in my facial expression...down to the barest feather flick.

“Drago, you have never questioned, much less confronted any of us when we rule in each of our individual courts. Just as we’ve always paid respect to you in yours,” points out Mayce, attempting to ground us with his intellectualism.

“It’s different now, and he damn well knows it,” Drago nearly roars, brandishing his flames. Murderous adrenaline spikes in my veins.

But unlike Drago, I am not of fire. Yes, I am as unstable and temperamental but in a far colder and more subtle manner. Merikh is the darkest winter of us. Drago is the hottest summer. Mayce and I round out our foursome.

Quintessa transcends all fucking four of us.

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