Page 73 of Ashen Wings

“Fuck,” Isra whispers. I file in behind him, eyes washing over the dark entrance. Scattered glass shards refract the sunrise across the floor. The delicate curtains, once adrift with a crisp midnight breeze, now hang shredded and off balance.

Good gods. Hunched over the central table, is Jace. His midnight strands blanket his face, but the rise and fall of his chest is evidence enough of the visceral rage now shedding from him like a second skin.

“Are you alright?” Isra takes a cautious step toward him, holding out a palm for me to stay put. My feet refuse to move, and so does my gaze.

Blood drips from Jace’s lips, pooling on the table beneath him, and his hands…onyx ink stains his fingertips, just as it did back in Storm.

“Get away…” Jace growls, but the voice isn’t his own. It’s laced with a darkness that quakes every cell in my body. “Get her away from me.”

Isra’s head snaps to me. “Go back upstairs. Lock the door. Don’t let anyone in until I come for you.”

I can’t breathe, not when Jace’s claws curl into fists, shredding the wooden tabletop like it’s thinner than parchment.

“Go, Nova, please!” Isra repeats and the desperation in his tone hits me like a shockwave.

“Nova…” A predatory growl rumbles in Jace’s throat as he cranes his neck toward me.

Our eyes lock, and I damn near piss myself. Gone are his glorious midnight irises. They’ve been replaced with a shade of garnet, dark and deadly.

Malevolent and soulless.

My heart leaps up my throat. Nausea floods in. He’s no longer human, no longer Jace Ashborne, but a creature of nightmares. His lips stretch into a dangerous grin, revealing stark white canines—elongated and sharp.

“Go upstairs,” Isra hisses.

“Nova…” Jace whispers, the multitude of voices dripping with deathly promise.

Isra’s body blocks him as he lunges for me, snarling and snapping like a rabid wolf. I don’t waste another second before breaking into a sprint up the stairs.

34

It’s not until late morning when the knock on my door comes. Coming out of my drunken haze with a throbbing skull and dry lips is nothing compared to the terror throbbing in my throat.

Get her away from me. I can’t shake Jace’s voice, replaying what happened over and over until I’m scattered. Another rasp on the door sends my spine jumping, but I smooth back my matted silver locks and open it.

“Good morning, starling,” Jace says and my body goes rigid. His eyes are their usual midnight shade, and the hands at his sides aren’t clawed.

“G-get away from me. I’m armed,” I warn, reaching for the dagger on the table beside me.

“Can we talk?” he asks. That smooth voice of his, silkier than velvet, wraps itself around me, and I can’t help but shiver. “I brought breakfast and a tonic for that hangover of yours.”

“No. Not until you explain what the fuck happened last night.” My fingers curl around the hilt as I raise it toward him.

“How about a round of our question game?” He grips the sharp edge of my blade and draws it to his chest, aimed right at his heart. “You can keep your dagger just like this the whole time.”

My eyes narrow. “No. You’ll explain yourself from out there.”

He sighs and lowers his hand, but my blade doesn’t falter.

“I wasn’t myself last night, okay?”

“You weren’t yourself?” The scoff escapes me with a tinge of rage, igniting my already pounding skull into flames. “That was very apparent.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Nova.” He leans over the door frame.

“I don’t believe you,” I hiss.

“You weren’t ever meant to see me like that.” He bites his canine into his lip. “I’m sorry.”