Beginning of Chapter 32

Elysian

The silence rang—heartbeat in his ears, pressure at his temples.

The colour of blood was a startling crimson, and it misted in the air, splashed across Quinn's face like a jet of gore, painting pretty pale skin a bloodied sticky hue. The Lonely's severed neck bubbled and frothed. One last spurt and it stumbled, sliding against Zen's sword, soaking the mirrored metal a wet rose.

Dead.

It fell onto the snow, a collapsed heap. The decapitated head that had once sunk its blunt fangs into his forearm rolled over the ground— eyes glassy, pupils waxy, tongue out. Elysian's nose wrinkled, and he tasted sweet, sweet iron on his tongue—his blood from a bitten lip.

Icarus laid before him, pressed against their Alpha, body shivering, protecting their woman. Their Quinn. And Elysian flinched at the clawed gashes on his back, the angry torn-out chunks. Blood was spreading across his frock, staining it a violent red. His wounds were grotesque and wet with open flesh and frayed sinew. The bones. He could see them, melting with the fat, trembling with each shaking breath. It had been difficult to tell what was fat and what was bone, but now he could see it, the glisten of Icarus's ribs.

This would require more than just fey to heal.

This was serious.

And then his pain arrived. It was odd that he had felt none of it then when he'd an towards the Lonely, arm out and taking the sink of fangs into his arm instead of Quinn's waiting throat. But now pain roared through his nerves, burning through his system, turning his vision into nauseating spikes of colour. His breath caught in his throat, ragged from the throbbing, from the hurt.

Their Alpha had wanted to die for another.

If he were any slower, Quinn would be dead.

The images flashed in his head, a sickening memory— the monster had stood lurking behind her, and her body had been on the ground waiting for certain death. The other Alpha had escaped towards safety and had not looked back to see if Quinn would survive.

And then the smile on Quinn's face when she turned to look. The grin as if her death did not matter. There was no terror, not one ounce of dread when she'd stared at death in the fucking eyes. She'd accepted it, had even blinked, had even smiled. Quinn was always so fucking good, it disgusted him. And inside, the terror had roared, rushed through his veins, soaked into his heart. His body had moved instinctually.

Would she look at them the same way when they plunge their hands into her heart?

Icarus seemed to have felt the same way, for a keening started in his throat. A wail mirrored from his lips, echoing sobs, reflecting panic. They'd both taken the blow and had both allowed the monster to tear through their skin. It was a bad move, a fucking stupid one. They should have watched as she died, should have taken the chance to feast on her heart.

It would not have weighed on their conscience if they ate her dying heart from her corpse.

And yet—

"Why are you such a fucking idiot?" Icarus roared, he was fire and ice, heat and rage. His fangs showed, and she stared, all quiet, mouth open and agape with concern. Her surprise mirrored the one he felt thundering in his heart, wheezing through his lungs. Elysian had not wanted Quinn to die, and the burn of what could have been lingered bitter and sour in his throat.

"You're hurt, you're both hurt," she whispered, fingers on the blood that spilt from Icarus's lips, an internal wound. Her voice had a shiver running up Elysian's spine. The relief was indescribable, water over bone. He relaxed, and the pain drummed into a steady, rising beat. "Drink my blood." Her eyes darted to him, to Elysian's arm, and horror twisted from her eyes. Warmth dripped down his cheeks, there were tears in his eyes. The pain spiked into flames. "You should both drink my blood—"

"Drink blood when I'm spewing like a geyser? You'll be wasting it all for nought. That's fucking stupid, you stupid fucking bitch," Icarus snarled, blood splattering from panting lips. "I'd kill you myself if I could, I'd fucking kill you!" He was panting, all bark no bite. And her eyes darted to Elysian's, and he found himself smiling. She couldn't see the wounds on Icarus's back, so awful, so much. But she could see the bone in his arm, the veins, the hanging muscles. Her lips parted to speak, and her voice trembled.

"Elysian…"

"I'm fine," Elysian found himself saying, answering her with a smooth purr. His Omega was desperate to calm her down, and his hands were shaking when Icarus was pulled off her frame. He fell to his knees as fey tended to the worst of it, their soldiers fretting over the open wounds. The bond fluttered, and his mate drooped in the arms of their medics. Icarus had survived worse, but not from the rotting claws of a Lonely. The infection would be a problem. Elysian's voice was grim. "We'll be fine."

"You…Why?"

Her mouth hung open; her eyes were too wide, too wet. It was a question he could not answer, and Elysian paused, lips trembling over the words, smearing fresh blood all over like a balm. He breathed harder, vision smudging with the pain. He whispered, "why did you sacrifice yourself for the girl?"

She shook her head. "Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?"

"I thought," Elysian answered honestly. "I thought I couldn't bear to see you in pain."

The flash of another future darted over his eyes and pulsated in his head. It was of tears in her eyes, of a limp hand, of a gentle smile, of her sweet blood hot in the air, of déjà vu. That vision circled in his nightmares and had him pacing outside her room. His Omega whined, swallowing down sobs, muffling tears. He couldn't bear to see her in pain. It would kill him.

But why?

There was now a softness in her eyes. A glow that swathed her features, like a deity wrapped in the light of the sun; her eyes were honeyed gold. Her lips pursed, then mouthed words that he could not hear. Vertigo sent him spinning, pressure swelling in his head. "Elysian, thank you."

And his eyes rolled back, slipping into the darkness.