Page 59 of The Surrender

My chest lurches, a gasp caught in my throat. I ridicule myself for running too far from the Court of Storms, for going into the forest.

I could have bled out in the bedroom, and Kyan would have found me and carried me to the lake. All four of them would be punishing me now. The last thing I want is to be used as a pawn or bait.

I scan my surroundings. Nothing but a little window. Too high to climb and too small for me to fit through. Out of the left corner of my eye and down the little hall, a staircase winds to another level.

“They’ve all paid for their sins for thousands of years. Their curse is greater than ours, Nuriel.”

As their voices fade to the opposite side of the house, I don’t look back. Breath bursting in my chest, I tear off down that hall and up those stairs as quickly as my bare feet can carry me. Much like the other treehouse, this leads to an expansive upper room. One with floor-to-ceiling windows between large bulbous tree walls.

I grab the latch of one only to find it locked. Panic ruptures through me. Shuddering, I spin, searching for something...anything I might use to open or even break the window. I bolt for the nearest dresser and rummage through the drawers, finding little else but trinkets and underclothing.

One tug of the smallest drawer at the very top. Horror cripples me at what tumbles out. I press my back against the dresser as hot tears scald my throat. Spasms seize my chest. My heart melts.

I let go of the drawer. It tumbles to the floor. Scattered all over like trinkets, like trophies, are hundreds of tiny baby bones.

“You should not have done that, my Lady.”

Blinking back tears, trading the woe for defiance, I turn my burning eyes upon Nuriel. Only for bile to churn my stomach while I hold my quaking chest. His spine is snapped so straight, and angry veins rise in his neck. I forget everything. Nothing but my blood hammering in my ears as he unleashes those great winged beasts on his back.

Not feathers.

These wings are black and membranous. Sinew. Muscle. And skin. More veins manifest in those wings like thin fissures of lightning. My fingers tremble in the recognition. My chest constricts. Full-bodied tremors consume me.

Nuriel is a demon. I’ve fallen right into the belly of the beast. And into his hell.

40

Someone took her.

KYAN

“This is your fault,” I chastise Shadow and ignore my partner’s spine that locks up. Merikh knows damn well I’m not referring to him, but the conflict between the demon and me still grates on his nerves.

“Such a bad shadow who wanted to play and chased the little spirit moth away,” he lilts, throwing a wink to Merikh but addressing me, “I told you, sweet Kyan. She'll see your mad side and never stay. She'll hate your bad side and run away!"

Violence overtakes Merikh’s eyes. “You will see my bad side if you two don’t shut the fuck up.”

Does he have a bad side? wonders Shadow, heeding the warning on some level by keeping our conversation private. All delicious scars and darkness from my angle.

Don't push it, I warn and grit my teeth as the rain drives harder around us. Not until we find her.

The storm has slowed our progress. It took hours before the brawl inside the Court ebbed to the point where Shadow could unleash his wrath upon Merikh—which always ends in healing and a good fucking. It was simply briefer than most. Cut short once Drago and Mayce alerted us of Quintessa’s absence. And how they searched the castle and its grounds but found no trace of her.

Thanks to this accursed storm, her scent was masked to us. Much more difficult to track. We sent Mayce and Drago to the west on the other side of the Court of Storms. Merikh and I bear to the east—closer to the village.

We’ve tracked her bare feet. So faint due to the rain almost washing them away. They faded to coach tracks. Ones that led into the village, but her footprints picked up outside the border. And disappeared into the forest.

Icy brutality tremors into my hands as we embark deeper into the woods. My wings shake at the thought of something happening to her. In the best scenario, we will find her in one of the village houses wrapped in a blanket and cuddling a babe. Her punishment for playing hide-and-seek will be milder.

But as Merikh and I battle the thickening branches, following her sodden tracks, his expanding muscles confirm he has the same concerns as me. Feathers torn from the gown are her breadcrumbs floating in little puddles or caught up in the branches. We follow her trail to the tree where the jewels catch my eye.

The vampire growls low. I turn to find his pupils dilated beneath a veil of thick and drenched lashes. I’d swear my partner is the one with the real demon. It prowls to the surface. So dark and slaughterous, it has the power to congeal my blood and set my skin to crawl.

“What?”

“Blood,” he seethes.

The lines on his face are more subdued than ever. And that is a fucking monstrosity waiting to happen. I feel every tightening iota of tension straining the air between us. He has my nerves rattling.

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