Page 85 of Ashen Wings

“Seal the tomb!” I cry, diving under an oncoming attack.

My boots squeal on stone, as someone—or something—laces its fingers through my braid and tugs. My soles lose traction, and the ground rips away as I’m flung backward.

“Let us feast!” a voice, half human half demon cries as the crown of my skull cracks against rock. Pain erupts through me, starring my vision with blurry specks.

“Let us feast!” another cries, this one almost feminine. Cold, wet fingers grip my wrist as I’m dragged along the floor, thrusted back toward the tomb’s depths. I claw and scratch at my invisible captor, but hands multiply until every inch of my arms are locked.

I gasp for breath, but the bodies keep piling up, some more solid than others. An elbow cracks against my cheek bone, welling tears in my eyes. A fist slams into my ribs, spilling the air I’ve managed to suck down. Teeth, dagger-sharp and vicious, bite into my thigh. “Let us feast!”

Fuck, these aren’t just vengeful spirits. They’re riders, and like Jace, bonded to long departed Blightfangs. They’re soulless creatures, thirsty for blood.

A cry spills from me as another set of jaws clamps down on my wrist. Then another around my neck. I’m pinned by fangs piercing every major vein and artery.

Blood flows from the puncture wounds. My skin whitens a shade fit for Morvayne. No matter how hard I try to rip away from these fuckers, I can’t. They’re gaining strength with the blood moon while mine depletes.

I’m dying, I realize.

I’m dying and I can’t fight my way out.

A hand wraps around my neck, coiling tight enough to hold me secure without cutting off my air. I’m pulled from the wriggling masses and tucked into a solid chest.

“I’m here, starling. I’ve got you.” Jace’s voice shields me in midnight as he pulls my head to the crook of his neck. He cradles me in closer, and I cling to him with desperate relief. Air rushes back down my lungs and I draw in greedy breaths. Jace’s tunic is shredded, like he battled his way to me, and the skin to skin feels like a blast of energy right to my straining heart.

“Hold on, okay? Just hold on. You are not dying today, Nova Lindwen.” The buzz between us kickstarts my sluggish pulse as Jace pushes our way through the dead.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers, low enough for only me to hear.

“No,” I snip, but I’m suckered to his chest like that statement is most certainly not true.

“That’s my girl.” His chest rises with ragged breaths. “But right now, I need you to.”

Before I can protest, he wraps his arms around me, burying my face into his skin. Starlight and ink bleed into me. Fuck, he smells good. Fresh and vast and wild like the cosmos above us. And his skin? Gods above, it’s smoother than silk. Even his midnight chest hair is soft against my cheek.

“This one’s mine,” Jace growls.

The others grow quiet, watching their king with ravenous eyes.

“Mine,” he repeats.

My body clenches around the word, holding it as tight as a lifeline. Jace’s hands flex around my thighs, each finger burrowing into the muscle. The veins in his forearms ripple as he takes a step toward safety.

“King Ashborne…”

“King Ashborne…”

Murmurs and whispers cling to my skin as we trudge through the parting tide of departed riders. Jace puts his back to the dead, now silent as their king passes.

“Claim her. Claim her. Claim her,” the dead chant, their ruby eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Trust me?” he whispers.

“Still no,” I reply, but he places a thumb against my lips.

“Just…stay still. Okay?”

“What are you doing, Ja—” The words rip from me as Jace closes his eyes and pulls in a long breath. Claws curl around my thighs, my waist, and when he opens his eyes again, they’re voidless gemstones.

“Don’t fucking move, Nova.”