Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(40)
Author: Gena Showalter

But seriously, Thane wanted her all to himself?

The owner spotted her. A six-foot-three Amazonian warrior woman.

Elin had no plans to buy. Her money went toward necessities—like heels and leather pants—or into savings. End of story. She glanced away, hoping to avoid a sales pitch. Her gaze caught on a sight she’d hoped to never see again, and she cried out with dismay.

There was Ardeo, the king of the Phoenix. Though he looked far different than she remembered, his dark hair standing on end, his hazel eyes bloodshot, and his once full cheeks now gaunt. Beside him was Orson, the second-in-command of the Firebird army.

The two males stalked down the row of shops determinedly, menace in every step. They scanned every booth, obviously searching for something—or someone.

Thane?

Or Elin?

What if they told Thane her secret?

Sickness gave birth to panic, both burning her chest. Part of her wanted to palm her glass shard and go to town on Orson’s face, something, anything to punish him for his part in her father’s and Bay’s deaths. Part of her knew that would merely create more problems.

Whatever proves necessary, my darling, do it. Survive. Do not allow my sacrifice to be in vain.

Decision made. Elin threw the rest of her money at the Amazon and said, “I’ll take the blanket. If that’s not enough, contact Thane at the Downfall and he’ll pay.” I hope.

As she raced to Axel’s booth—use him for protection—she pulled the pelt around her, covering her hair and shielding most of her face and body.

For you, Momma. But deep down, Elin was ashamed by her behavior. There had to be a better way to save herself. A way that wouldn’t trample on her self-respect.

“—invite to the Lords, no problem,” Bellorie was saying. “Uh, what are you doing, Bonka Donk?”

“Hide me,” Elin commanded, suddenly clammy. The Phoenix could ruin her in several different ways. “Don’t talk to the warriors, okay? Don’t talk to them, and don’t listen to them. Send them away. Okay? Yes?”

Bellorie frowned at her.

Axel maintained his casual pose.

Neither understood the danger level.

Elin dropped to the Sent One’s side, as if she was his slave, and bowed her head. Perfect timing. Two sets of scuffed leather boots came into view. Her heart thundered against her ribs, continually coming into contact with the heat of the panic—a match about to light and torch her.

Perhaps she was more Phoenix than human after all.

“You are a Sent One.” Orson’s voice. Deep. Harsh. Rough.

Making her shudder. With fear…and rage. Can’t fight a dragon before you fight a lion and bear.

“Is this State the Obvious day?” Axel asked, and he sounded genuinely curious. “If so, I want a turn. You’re ugly, and ridiculously stupid.”

The Phoenix warrior sucked in a breath. “Watch your tongue, winger, or you’ll lose it.”

It was common knowledge Sent Ones were allowed to kill demons, and no one else. Unless, of course, they were being held against their will. Right now, Axel wasn’t being held against his will. He was at a major disadvantage.

“We’re here for Thane. Do you know him?” Orson demanded.

Why wasn’t Ardeo speaking? He was king.

And what did they want with Thane? The captives? Probably. So…maybe, if Elin stayed out of sight, she wouldn’t be mentioned and her secret would stay safe.

“Bellorie, darling,” Axel said, checking his cuticles. “They’re boring me.”

“My reward?” she asked, confusing Elin.

“Double.”

“Deal.”

A second later, before Elin could even track the girl’s movements from beneath the blanket, Bellorie jabbed her hand through Orson’s chest, grabbed his heart, and jerked it out. The organ beat twice more before stopping.

The warrior collapsed on the ground, dead.

Blood dripped from between Bellorie’s fingers.

Blood…blood…blood sprayed from her father’s head as it rolled. Blood dripped from Bay’s broken body as it slumped over the table. Blood smeared her mother’s thighs as she clutched her dead baby.

Ice doused the heat inside Elin. A scream brewed in the back of her throat, quickly escaping. Another followed close on its heels—then another. Maybe Ardeo saw her face. Maybe he didn’t. She didn’t care anymore. Couldn’t stop screaming as the king of the Phoenix swooped up his second-in-command and raced away, most likely hoping to get him somewhere safe so that he could regenerate.

“Quiet,” Axel commanded.

She tried to obey, she really did, but the screams just kept coming. Blood…a pool of red…the scent of it in the air…old pennies. Familiar. Wafting from the two men she loved more than life. Then from her mother and only sibling—her precious baby brother.

Strong arms banded around her and lifted her off the ground. Elin fought with every bit of her strength, swinging her arms, kicking her legs. Biting. Scratching. She would act like a warrior and battle to the death. Screw survival at any cost!

The arms released her, and she fell; she must have been higher up than she’d realized, because she lost her breath when she landed, angry pains tearing through her side. And still the screams emerged, though they were softer now, mere rasps of broken breath.

“What’s wrong with her?” she thought she heard Bellorie ask.

“I don’t know, but I’ve summoned Thane,” Axel replied, his tone grim.

“He won’t come for a bottom-level employee. He—”

“Is already here.”

Suddenly blond curls and electric blues consumed Elin’s line of vision. Thane’s beautiful face was streaked by soot. There were vivid cuts on his forehead and cheek, but at least the purity of his scent replaced the old pennies, and the heat of his body chased away the chill of panic.

“Elin, look at me.”

Struggling to breathe, she focused on the beauty of him rather than the injuries.

“You’re safe now. I need you to calm.”

Have to make him understand. “Help me get it off. Please, Thane. Help me get it off.” She realized she was sprawled flat on her back in the middle of the street, and Thane was crouched beside her, his wings wrapped around her, shielding her from the curiosity of others.

“What do you need me to get off you, kulta?”

“The…the blood.” Even hate the word. “Get it off.”

“I see no blood.”

“It’s there. I know it is. And I need it off. Please.” She gasped. The blood had even spread to him. His wings…they were red. Everything was red!