Page 467 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Strung out. Draped like a rag doll, fastened to holy glass by shadows of the devil in human skin. Vaguely aware that two worlds existed at once: the blue sanctuary of the glacier, and the cracked and spindled affliction of the mortal plane.

It was my mortal self that tracked his movement as he rotated from the bloody words carved into my skin to the ring beyond.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I begged, “Please.”

“Will you miss your master, little pet?” Moros’ dark eyes flicked to mine, glimmering with pleasure. “Will you miss his cock as he pumps you full of his seed? Or just his smart mouth always coming to your aid?”

Time. Adrastos said this bought me time.

“He’s not… dead,” I rasped. “He wouldn’t… leave me here.”

The blow came as expected, my head snapping into the glass so hard I was almost certain it cracked.

“My sniveling brother⁠—”

“Is fashionably late.”

Shock had my mouth falling open as Moros whirled.

“Bell,” I sobbed.

How?

A cry lodged in my chest, eyes burning for an entirely new reason as the Prince prowled into the room, bloodied, bruised, shirt torn wide-open, breathing hard, and… murderous.

Like flame to a wick beneath the sea, hope tried and failed to ignite in my chest because…

I had felt it. Felt him. Felt the life leave his body—felt his power ripple through the world. Shredding through me. Through that bond. That beautiful midnight bond, ripped to pieces, the stars within scattered. I reached for magic that didn’t exist, a distressed gasp bubbling between my lips.

“And this is how you treat my pet in my absence?” A sharp glare toward Moros. “Honestly, brother, have you lost your mind? She’s⁠—”

But Moros’ hand lashed out, and judging by the way the prince’s head snapped back, a growl rumbling in his chest, he must’ve pulled on the bond around his neck. Bellamy lowered to his knees, eyes pinned on Moros and dripping loathing as his hands lifted to lace behind his head. Terror drilled into my belly as the blood drained from my face.

“Is that really necessary?” he rasped.

“You…” Moros’ livid accusation wandered away as though even his thoughts grew weary of his vitriol. He prowled toward his brother where he glared from his knees. Slowly, in an eerily serpentine motion, Moros cocked his head… and breathed. Deeply, his head falling back as color filled his pallid skin. The prince made a choked sound, expression tightening with unseen pain.

He was a godsdamned power bank.

Confusion was a bitter concoction on my tongue as I watched, mute and horrified. Time for what? Time for this? To watch Moros at last drain him dry? What was I buying time for? The cruel crack of a practiced whip?

The usurper popped his neck as he closed the distance, a sneer curling his lip. He evaluated the man before him.

“You lost, prince of shadows,” Moros hissed. “She is no more your bride than you are an heir.”

“You’re so desperate to taste me you keep lapping up my leftovers?” he panted through a psychotic fucking smile before tonguing at his canine. “Skip the theatrics, go straight for the source and hit your knees for once.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Moros sneered, voice promising retribution.

But I had eyes only for Bellamy, for the wildness consuming him, the savage lift of his chin and slant to his mouth. Something was… different. As though his disciplined control had shattered—as though the battle had unmoored him into madness.

“By your logic, no one would know… right?”

“You are⁠—”

“Nothing and no one. I’m well aware.”

Something inside me flinched at the callous words, so carefully recited. Fear was quick to nip at its heels as his⁠—