Page 46 of On Brutal Thrones

Blood runs from the gash the bat left behind, following my arm to my wrist before gathering at my fingertips. A drop falls into the red muck below. Then another.

The cut is deeper than I realized.

Fresh blood.

My blood.

I look back at Talon, and understanding hits. His eyes are almost completely red, his pupils blown wide and fixed on the blood dripping from my fingertips. His lips part, exposing his fangs, and every muscle in his body seems to pull taut. The strain that’s been building in him since we entered this field is gone, replaced by a terrible, single-minded hunger. His chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, and his fingers curl around his dagger as if he’s forgotten he’s holding it. There’s no humor in his face now. No warmth. No sign that he even sees me anymore. He only sees the blood.

Fenric and Thorian intercept him before he reaches me. Fenric drops his spear and grabs him from one side while Thorian catches him from the other.

“Talon, it’s me!”

He fights against them, his gaze locked on the blood running down my arm.

“Stop!” Fenric roars.

Talon twists free and comes for me again. I stumble backward, fear surging through me despite everything I know about him.

This is Talon. The man who makes me laugh when I’m terrified. The man who kissed me last night and helped make the ring on my finger this morning. He would never hurt me.

But right now, he doesn’t seem to know who I am.

He reaches for me, and I jerk aside just before his hand closes around my arm. Fenric slams into him from the side, wrapping both arms around him, but Talon throws him off with terrifying ease.

“Talon!” Thorian bellows.

There’s no response. Talon’s attention snaps back to me.

The world is red in every direction, the field beating beneath our feet while creatures shriek overhead. Just this morning, this man asked me to marry him. Now he’s hunting me through a field of blood.

Thorian tackles him before he can reach me.

“Come on!” he shouts, wrestling him backward. “Get it together!”

Fenric gets to his feet and moves to help. Talon swings. His fist connects with Fenric’s face hard enough to send him sprawling into the blood. Then Fenric growls.

I know that sound. Thorian knows that sound. Fenric is going to go berserk.

The sound turns my blood cold.

Thorian’s eyes meet mine. “Go.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Nyx, I’ve got a crazed vampire who wants to drink you dry, a berserker about to lose it, and deadly creatures in every direction. You’re a liability right now, not a help!”

Fenric’s body begins to change, muscles swelling as his clothes tear. His roar tears across the field as he charges Talon.

Thorian pulls his sword free and throws it toward me. The blade plunges point-first into the muck a few feet away.

“Run!”

I wrench it free, but every part of me fights against leaving them. Fenric is lost to his berserker rage. Talon is lost to the blood. And Thorian is standing between them, trying to keep two people we love from tearing each other apart.

“I’m coming back!” I shout.

Then I turn toward the distant trees and run.