Page 215 of A Fire in the Flesh

“I’m not talking just about that, liessa. Just in the last twenty-four hours, I’ve committed indisputable atrocities—killing those who laid down their swords. Those who turned and ran from me.”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t consider that an atrocity.”

Ash raised a brow. “Such an act would likely send a mortal’s soul into the Abyss.”

“This is different,” I reasoned.

One side of his lips tipped up. “Care to explain that reasoning?”

“Not really.”

He chuckled.

I searched his features. “Do you regret killing them? The ones who surrendered or ran?”

“No.”

His quick answer told me he spoke the truth. “Good.”

Ash cocked his head.

“What? I would’ve regretted it for a whole three-point-five seconds and then moved right on. You know that.” And he did because I’d shared my struggles concerning my lack of guilt. “You told me before that all of us are capable of monstrous acts, but it does not make us monsters.”

“I did.”

My gaze dropped to the collar of his shirt. The loose opening revealed a swatch of his shoulder and the black ink there. “One hundred and ten,” I murmured, lifting my eyes to his. He may say he didn’t regret taking those lives, but underneath his anger, he did. He was better than me, less monstrous. “Do not add those lives to your flesh,” I said. Right or wrong, I didn’t want that for him.

Thick lashes lowered, and he nodded. I felt his chest rise again with a deep but shaky breath.

“Did he say anything else?” I asked.

Ash nodded. “He told me not to forget what he said when we were near the Red River, rounding up the Shades.” His jaw tensed as his thumb skated over the line of my cheekbone. “It was the last time I saw him alive.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That’s the thing.” Ash hesitated, his eyes darting away from mine before returning. He curtly shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

His denial hung in the air between us, and I bit down on the inside of my lip, tasting a hint of the sweet, smoky flavor again…

Wait.

“You gave me your blood.”

“I did.”

“Ash.” Worry spread through me like a weed left to grow. He’d been imprisoned for weeks, and what blood he’d taken after being freed couldn’t have been enough to restore him. “You shouldn’t have done that—”

“You shouldn’t have used the eather to free my father,” he cut in gently. “So, we both did what we believed the other shouldn’t have.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“What you did caused you to deplete your energy and pass out,” he countered, the essence in his eyes dancing. “I, on the other hand, didn’t suffer those consequences.”

“Passing out probably has more to do with climbing those damn Temple steps than using the eather to free Eythos.”

A small smile appeared. “Sera.”

“I’m serious. I hate stairs, and it’s not any different. You need to conserve your energy.”

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