Her lips twisted cruelly. "Your worst nightmare."
"Is that what I am?" said a voice Thane recognized. "I always considered myself a forbidden fantasy."
Thane tensed.
The prince.
Malice glided into the room. A white robe draped his body. Pretending to be a Sent One? It was a known fact: fallen angels were insanely jealous of Sent Ones.
Thane fought his bonds. Bjorn. Xerxes. Since being stabbed, he'd tried to call them at least ten times, but neither had responded. He'd tried to call Zacharel, too. The prince is here. Take the women and leave. Now. Again, there was no response.
Dread cut through him, sharper than the blade. They would never block him and never purposely ignore him. Which meant they had to be...incapacitated. Yes. Incapacitated, not dead.
And if they were incapacitated, the women...
No. No!
"Look what we did," Kendra said, grinning as she motioned to Thane. "Just like you told us."
"It's not too late," Thane told her. "You can help me, and I can help you."
"I don't need help." But the beginnings of indecision stirred in her eyes.
"You did well," the prince said to the princess. "You have a problem, however. I no longer have any use for you." He placed a hand on both Kendra's and Ricker's brows. Striations of black appeared on their cheeks...down their necks... Their eyes rolled back, revealing the whites. Their bodies began to shake and shake...and when the shaking stopped, their skin was...stone? The black had spread, covering the pair from head to toe, creating a high-gloss sheen.
Thane had never seen anything like it.
The prince opened his hands, and the pair fell to the ground, nothing more than a pile of dust.
The evil power such an act required...more than Thane had ever witnessed. And completely unnecessary. With a little time, he could have reached her. Now, it was too late.
Malice grinned. "Your greatest enemies will never regenerate. You're welcome."
"That is the difference between us. I no longer had any desire for vengeance."
The prince narrowed his eyes. "You lie."
"And you are so afraid to face me, you had to stoop to this."
Amused again, rather than insulted, the prince said, "You mock, and yet my battle strategy far surpassed yours." He shrugged. "Did you try to summon your two favorite boy toys the way you Sent Ones like to do? Well, I'm sad to say they won't be responding. Both are currently dead."
His worst suspicion...confirmed.
Though the prince hadn't touched him, he felt as if his heart had just turned to stone inside his chest. Cracks formed, before the petrified organ burst into countless shards, cutting him. "You are the liar." Demons enjoyed twisting the truth. He couldn't forget.
"Hardly. You taste the truth of my words, I'm sure. I ran into Bjorn outside, and Xerxes in the hallway. Both had very weak bone structure...and when I left them, both had holes in their chests."
"No!" The word roared from Thane, a denial that sprang from deep, deep inside, where survival met the core of his being. The thought of losing his friends... No.
"Oh, yes."
"I taste no lie--you're right about that. You left them with broken bones and holes in their chests. But that doesn't mean they're dead. They've recovered from worse."
Irritated, Malice snapped, "Time will tell." Then he calmed and added, "They distracted you from our game...as did your female."
Thane renewed his struggles, his flesh biting into the metal cuffs. What little strength he had left rapidly drained. "Don't touch her. Don't you dare touch her."
The prince patted his cheek, and the contact blistered more than an acid bath. "Oh, I touched her. And more. I can hardly wait to show you the end result of my actions."
The relish in his tone was frightening, but his words were downright terrifying. "What did you do?" Thane croaked. "What did you do!"
"Don't worry, Sent One. She'll live."
Again, he tasted no lie. He sagged against the mattress. He could deal with anything except her death.
Malice stalked around the bed, once, twice. "Your army is on its way. Did you know that? Did you call them? Your friends did. But my minions will hold the warriors off until I'm finished here."
So cocky. "You underestimate our strength."
A tinkling laugh. "Surely you see the irony of your statement."
He did. But he didn't care.
He'd spent his life bucking against the authority of a leader--any leader. That was how he'd ended up with Zacharel, the coldest of the cold, part of an army the rest of their world considered one step above useless and best forgotten.
Those soldiers would fight for him and those he loved with the same fervency as Bjorn and Xerxes. Like Elin, they had become his family.
"You don't stand a chance," Thane said confidently.
Malice waved the words away. "I'll be long gone before your friends are even able to enter the castle." His ear twitched, and he nodded with satisfaction. "Excellent. I think your Elin is on her way."
Elin!
"Run," Thane shouted. "Elin, run!"
"She can't," the prince said with a smile straight from the depths of his worst nightmares.
She dashed around the corner and entered the room wearing Bjorn's robe. Thane experienced a wealth of emotion. Joy that she lived. Anger that she had been placed in this situation. Desperation to whisk her away to safety. Fear for Bjorn.
Her gaze met his, only to skid away quickly.
Still upset about what she'd seen?
Or upset about what had happened to his friend?
"Run," he commanded. "Please."
"Uh, uh, uh," Malice tsked. "Stay."
She stayed. Head bowed. Shoulders stooped. A pose of submission.
Something inside Thane's chest clenched. Her hair appeared lighter, he realized--because it was threaded with flames. And her once smoked-glass eyes now blazed and crackled with orange fire.
She was a Phoenix.
And she still wouldn't meet his gaze.
Did she think he would reject her?
How could he? She was a beautiful, fearsome sight. And she was still his kulta. Now and always.
"I love you, Elin. With all that I am. No matter what."
Tears streaked down her cheeks. "Let him go," she demanded of the prince, the hem of the robe swaying on the floor as she shifted from one foot to the other. "Please."
"I don't think I will, but I do thank you for the suggestion." Malice rubbed his hands together, and with his gaze locked on Thane, he said, "I wonder if your love will turn to hate when you learn your woman is now blessed with the same ability your Kendra possessed."
Thane merely blinked. Kulta. I don't care. Do you hear me?
She was alive. Nothing else mattered.
His lack of reaction angered the prince.
Malice whirled on Elin, who'd stood utterly still during his speech. "Did your clothes burn away, little one? Did you steal a robe from a dead man, not wanting me to see the body I will soon rip asunder? How novel." He tore the material off her, leaving her naked.
Thane tried to reach for her, desperate to shield her. And for a moment, he was transported back to the demon dungeon, Bjorn dangling over him, Xerxes raped across from him. Thane, seemingly forgotten, while all too present in that hell.
"Don't you dare hurt her. Hurt me. Hurt me however you desire. Just let her go."
"Hurt you?" Malice winked at him. "From what I hear, you'd like it."
"Thane," Elin said before he could reply, her tone trembling. "Don't worry about me, all right? I'll be okay. And...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about what happened earlier. I trust you. I do. And I love you. I love you so much."
Words he'd longed to hear--words that eased something inside him, even as they razed the worst of his protective instincts. Don't be sorry, he tried to project to her. Survive.
"How adorable." The prince held out his hand. A sword appeared. "You love her. She loves you.
Now, you can watch her die."
"No," Thane shouted, trying again to reach for her.
A shudder moved through Elin's body. "It's okay. I'll be okay. You just--"
Malice stabbed her in the heart, silencing her with an agonized gasp.
Snarling, Thane yanked so hard at his chains, the entire bed shook. Elin fell, crashing into the floor. She didn't move.
Knowing she was now fully Phoenix did nothing to temper his reaction. His woman was a boneless heap, blood pooling around her, and it destroyed him. Fury was a storm, uncontrollable and wild, flooding him with adrenaline and, finally, the necessary strength. As Elin caught fire and burned to ash in mere seconds--the fastest regeneration he'd ever seen--he split the head-and footboard with the force of his struggles. The links gave way at last, freeing him.
He jolted upright, watching as the fire expanded. In the center of the flames, Elin appeared in a burst of light. He was relieved. He was angry. How she must have suffered. Must be suffering.
The fire died, and she once again crashed into the floor. Gasping for breath, she fought her way to her hands and knees, then to an unsteady crouch.
"Ready for...round two?" she panted, taunting the prince.
A knot clogged Thane's throat. He made to grab her and jerk her behind him, even though his forearms and wrists were broken and set at odd angles.
"None of that," Malice said--and used the sword to hack off both Thane's hands.
Elin screamed with fury. She lumbered to her feet and launched herself at the prince, but he caught her midair, able to levitate her with his mind and lock her in place. Then...he stabbed her in the stomach.
"Oh, my," the prince said as she crumbled to the floor. "I do hope she wasn't carrying your babe."
Thane barely had time to choke on a howl of rage, for when she reformed, the male quickly decapitated her. This time, she reformed almost instantly, motionless in a pool of blood and fire one second, crouched and surrounded by smoke the next. Thane almost couldn't process the depths of his fury and helplessness.
"Please," he croaked. He would beg. Pride was nothing when it came to his woman's safety and well-being.
"Here's how this is going to work," the prince continued. "I'm going to give a command, and you, Thane, are going to obey it. If you fail, I will kill your female in a new and creative way."
"Whatever you want, I'll do." Thane stood, swayed. He didn't care about the loss of his hands, or the holes in his chest. "This is between you and me."
"Exactly."
"She's suffered enough."
"Has she?"
He watched, unable to do anything as Elin floated closer and closer to the prince...stopping just in front of him. She looked at Thane and offered him a soft, sweet smile that proved to be his undoing.
He stumbled forward, intent on stepping in front of his woman and taking whatever blow was meant for her. He couldn't watch her die again. He just couldn't.
An almost imperceptible shake of her head stopped him.
He frowned.
"Thank you," she said to Malice.
The male arched a brow. "For what, my sweet?" He gently brushed the hair from her forehead.
"For orchestrating your own downfall. You see, the second time you killed me, you severed our bond. Every time after that, I grew stronger. Now, I'm powerful enough to control the abilities that would have overwhelmed me otherwise." As the last word left her, wings burst from her back. Wings of red, yellow and black. Not made of feathers, but of flames. Thick smoke curled from their edges.
Before the prince could process what was happening, she spun, swiping those wings across his throat.
She dropped to the floor, crouched, watching, waiting, the wings lifted and spread behind her.
Blood dripped from Malice's wound several seconds before his head slipped off his body. But he caught the head midair and put it back in place.
The skin, and everything else, wove back together.
"That wasn't very nice," the prince gritted.
Horror chilled Thane. But he forced himself to look past it. Past all of his emotions and focus on instinct. All demons, no matter their rank, were susceptible to one thing.
"No," Elin whispered. "Impossible."
"Again, Elin," Thane managed.
She heard him and reacted instantly, swinging her wings at the prince a second time before he thought to strike at her.
Once again, she removed his head.
"Water," Thane rushed out next. "Robe. Pour."
She knew what he wanted, and grabbed the robe she'd taken from Bjorn, the one the prince had torn away from her, digging inside and removing the vial of Water.
The prince's head had fallen and again he'd caught it. But before he could anchor it back into place, Elin used her wings to propel herself into his chest and knock him down.
The head rolled away, out of reach.
Still the prince swung at her, though it was clear he couldn't see her, because he missed by a mile. It bought her the second she needed. She dumped what little Water the vial contained over the neck wound.
Tissue sizzled. Sulfur-scented steam rose.
The body jerked.
The head screamed.
The sizzling intensified, and spread...spread...until all of his flesh...and muscle...and bone...were bubbling like cheese in an oven.
Elin coughed, the steam so thick it saturated the air. Thane didn't have the strength to react.
Then the steam cleared--there one moment, gone the next--and there was no sign of the prince.
He was gone.
Thane had read about this. He knew the prince had just lost his body, and his spirit had been sucked into hell, where it was now bound.
Which meant...
It was over. It was really over.
Thane's knees buckled, and he collapsed, overjoyed, relieved. And still dying. Ricker's sword had punctured his heart and a lung, and now, his life's blood poured from the ends of his arms.
He'd never hated pain more. Because it meant he would be taken from Elin.
"Kulta," he gasped out.
Her wings vanished, and she rushed to his side, saying, "Bjorn and Xerxes are alive. I gave them each a few drops of the Water. And then the prince... I should have saved some for you... What was I thinking? I'm so sorry, baby."
"You did everything right." His gaze met the sweet beauty of hers. The time he'd had with her...worth anything. Everything. "Stay with...them. They'll take care...of you."
Tears caught in her lashes before cascading down her cheeks. "Don't you dare talk like that. You're going to be okay. You're immortal. You'll recover."
If he drank the Water in the next few minutes, yes. Maybe. If not...no. These injuries were far too severe. Vital organs had been punctured and they couldn't regenerate fast enough. He'd lost too much blood. But he didn't want to tell her that. She'd start to feel guilty again.
His friends rushed into the room--and they were not alone. Bellorie and the girls, plus all of Zacharel's army. Everyone had survived the attack. And thank the Most High, the minions must have sensed the prince's death and scurried off like the cowards they were, afraid to act now that they were without a leader to protect them.
While Xerxes blocked everyone's view of Elin, Bjorn grabbed a robe from the closet and tugged the material over her head, covering her nakedness.
Zacharel surveyed the scene, and when his gaze landed on Thane, the layer of ice he wore like a second skin cracked. "You are almost past the point of aid, my friend."
"Tell me something...I don't know."
"Does anyone have the special Water?" Elin practically shrieked. "If so, you better give it to me. Give it to me now. I killed a prince, and I won't stop there."
Malcolm, who had resisted all of Thane's demands and pleas before, reached inside an air pocket without hesitation.
My little tyrant. She'd really come into her own.
He began to wheeze. His chest tightened. The world dimmed as Elin u
ncorked the vial and turned to him. Then he lost sight of her completely. Lost the sound of her voice, and the comfort of her scent. Lost...everything.
*
ELIN POURED EVERY BIT of the water into Thane's mouth. But he was unconscious and didn't swallow. Most of it dribbled from him as his head lolled to the side.
"Come on, Thane." Desperately she worked his throat with her fingers.
The black-haired warrior with bright green eyes barked, "Does anyone else have a vial? He needs it now."
Heads shook, and eyes gleamed with dismay. Bjorn and Xerxes looked ready to bust apart at the seams, as if they couldn't control the dark tide of emotion rampaging through them.
Without the Water, Thane would die. If he wasn't already--
No.
This couldn't be the end.
"Bjorn, Xerxes." She wasn't giving up and knew they wouldn't, either. "We're taking him to the source. Now."
"We can't force the crowd to let us pass," Xerxes said, clearly dealing with shock. "That's the only rule."
She had no idea what he was talking about. But it didn't matter--she would do anything. "We'll find a way."
The male gently gathered Thane in his arms. Blood dripped from Thane's wings, painting the feathers crimson. "You're right. We must try."
Features tight with worry, Bjorn tugged her to his chest, something that couldn't be pleasant for him. But their minds were in accord. Do whatever was necessary to save Thane's life.
Together, their little foursome flew to some kind of temple. During the twenty-minute flight--the longest twenty minutes of her life--Thane never opened his eyes, never said a word.
To her horror, there was a huge line of people waiting at a towering iron gate, and Xerxes's words began to make sense. All of these people...and she was just supposed to wait?
"We are next," Xerxes stated baldly. "Please."
"No way," said the petulant male at the front of the line. "I've waited too long for my turn."
"Then another few minutes won't hurt you, but I will," Elin snapped, flames bursting from her hair.
She hissed, her face breaking out into a mass of blisters, and Bjorn dropped her.
As she straightened, the male at the front of the line backed away from her.
"We can't use force," Xerxes reminded her. "Whatever method we use will be visited upon us for the rest of eternity."
Which wouldn't help Thane. She wanted to scream!
A mental command caused her wings to dissipate--her control continued to shock and awe her. "Thane of the Three is dying," she announced, lifting her chin. "He is a good man, and he is loved. Help us help him. Please."