Another crash sounds out, vibrating through the floor and shattering the steadiness of the ground beneath me.
“I promise to show you my...”
“Could you focus on the task at hand?” I hiss.
I hear Byron's eyebrow arch. “My hand.” He glances down. “Did I mention I fucked it thinking of you and your pretty pink pussy?”
The temperature drops and I press into him, instinctively. He's warmer than he ought to be by human standards, but I've got no idea what the normal temperature is for a demon like him.
“Careful, princess. It won't take me long to dispatch the Yiddin, and who knows what fun we might have if you excite me too much?”
Byron is far too fucking confident, and his ego is running away with him. He's so damn sure of himself that anyone would think whatever is attacking us isn’t a threat. But the way it's broken through whatever protection Enzo put in place around his loft and that means the Yiddin is dangerous. Very dangerous.
“It's an ice demon, Adriana.” Byron's eyes light his hand as he lifts his palm. “I deal in fire.”
Flames burst from his hand, brilliant oranges and red, combining with searing white heat. They dance and flicker, moving freely as they captivate my imagination and almost steal a piece of my soul. They're more beautiful than any fire I've ever seen and they hold me in a thrall I almost can't escape. I almost don't escape.
The burn across my neck as Byron's flames heat my gold collar snaps me out of my trance.
“Stay here. Don't move.” Byron snarls. “And take this just in case.” He thrusts a small dagger into my hand. “Don't do anything stupid with it. Hearts are never a bad shot.”
He pulls away as I stare at the weapon in my hand. Its handle is set with a large stone the color of the sea and its blade is curved, its edges like the ocean waves. There's nothing gentle about the dagger: its point is as sharp as Enzo's claws and it's designed to kill.
Presumably demonic things.
Demonic things like the swirl of dark grey that Byron's disappeared into. Storm clouds have gathered in the loft, filling all the space in the sitting area and heading toward the kitchen.At alarming speed. Whatever Byron's doing isn't working and the temperature drops again as ice crystals form on the kitchen surfaces, hurtling toward me as their startling patterns turn sinister.
Byron had better hurry if he wants to save me.
Or I'll be forced to save myself.
Fuck. I'm going to have to save myself.
The cloud smothers me in its fog and I lose all sense of time and place. I'm disorientated, lost, and spiraling through nothing. I'm falling, spinning as I descend towards oblivion, and there's nothing to break my fall.
My stomach lurches as I'm tossed about on the wind and my heart leaps into my mouth, trying to escape the cage confining it. My head tells me I'm fucked, but my body won't accept it, and somehow, despite everything, I keep going. I keep breathing. I keep hold of the goddamn knife like my life depends on it.
It may well do.
Something wraps around me, and I stare as a pale blue shadow curls around me. It tightens as I claw against it, wrapping more and more loops around me. The tendrils of whatever the fuck this is keep coming and they tighten their grip, holding me so damn securely that I'm struggling to breathe.
My chest can't expand and my lungs burn. I pound and thrash, screaming for Byron and anyone who'll save me.
It makes no difference and I'm losing this fight.
I can't work my way free and there's little I can do to save myself.
The edges of my vision fade to darkness and I decide to do the thing that Byron warned me not to. It's the only thing left and it's better than nothing. Anything's better than this, and I refuse to go down without a fight.
I stab the dagger into my stomach.
There's no pain, no sensation. Not a fucking thing.
I pull it out and stab again, and nothing happens. Nothing changes. Nothing moves.
I stab again and again and again, screaming as my rage consumes me and I let it overwhelm me.
Liquid trickles down my legs and I don't give a shit. I keep going, keep fighting, oblivious to my exhaustion, oblivious to any pain. Almost oblivious to the clearing air and the solid ground beneath my feet.
