Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(45)
Author: Gena Showalter

Hope proved stronger than hurt, shattering the icy wall he’d tried to build against her allure. He wanted to return to the club and talk to her. Wanted to comfort her, and take comfort from her. They both had reservations about a relationship, but if they tried, they could work through them.

Thane, Xerxes snapped inside his head.

He blinked, realized he hadn’t made a turn, and backtracked.

Distracted? Bjorn asked, clearly trying not to laugh.

Yes, he gritted.

May I suggest knitting? Xerxes’s tone was sly, teasing. It’s very relaxing.

No reason to suggest it. I’m already knitting a nightshirt—for your mother. Even teasing, he tasted the foulness of a lie, but he didn’t care.

Mother jokes? Bjorn tsked. How low the sophisticated Thane has fallen.

I think he needs to fall a bit more. Xerxes rolled above Thane, clipping his wing and sending him plummeting several hundred feet before he caught himself.

Thane came up grinning. If he hadn’t seen his destination looming straight ahead, he would have played air chicken with his friend, something they hadn’t done in years.

He arrowed toward the cloud of smoke wafting from the center of the woodlands just outside Aμαρτία City, where Elin had shopped and Bellorie had killed one of the Phoenix. Roughly two hours had passed since then, and the warrior was clearly in the process of regenerating.

Thane reached the crest of the smoke and descended. Seeing the Phoenix, he hovered in the sky alongside his friends, remaining in the spirit realm, unseen to all but Sent Ones, angels, demons and the rare immortal, watching as the slain warrior burned atop a stone altar. Two other males stood beside him, chanting. One of the chanters was Kendra’s husband, Ricker.

He’ll expect to have a chat with me.

Very well.

Ardeo, the king, knelt in front of a campfire, his head bowed as he tugged at his hair. He cried “Malta” at the top of his lungs, over and over again. His sorrow was as fresh today as it had been the day of her death several weeks ago.

Eight of his best fighters were armed and spread out around him, peering into the trees, watching for any threat.

Thane floated to the ground.

“Dead or alive?” Bjorn asked, doing the same.

“Alive if possible.” For two reasons. He wouldn’t risk another punishment from Zacharel, and he didn’t want any of these men regenerating and strengthening.

Together, he, Xerxes and Bjorn stepped into the natural realm, going from invisible to seen in less than a second. The Phoenix guarding Ardeo noticed and reacted instantly, unsheathing swords and spinning to face them—then marching forward.

Thane tucked his wings into his back and reached into his air pocket to withdraw a pair of short swords. When the warriors reached him, he sprang into the air, twisted and struck two from behind as they raced past the spot he’d just vacated. Both males tumbled to the grass face-first—each missing an arm. Twin howls of pain erupted.

Xerxes stood in place, letting his opponents come to him. He bent. He ducked. He swung. He kicked. He remained in a constant state of motion, delivering more hits than he received.

Bjorn zigzagged through the air, attacking and retreating.

Two of the bigger males struck Thane from behind, hacking at his wings. Hissing, Thane turned and swung his weapons in a wide arc. The tips sliced through skin and muscle, but not bone. The males had jumped back, avoiding more serious injuries. And when Thane swung a second time, both were ready and parried. Metal clanged against metal.

Ricker the War Ender shoved the pair out of the way. “I want my wife!” he roared, spittle spraying from his mouth. He raised his sword.

“Even though she preferred me?” Thane asked, genuinely curious.

Teeth bared, Ricker lunged at him. Thane shot into the air, then dropped behind the male and swung his sword. But the War Ender knew what he was about and spun, meeting Thane’s blade. Clang.

He swung high. Clang.

He swung low. Clang.

He went low again. Clang.

Grinding his teeth, Thane slashed one of his swords toward Ricker’s left, and as the warrior parried, sending the weapon flying, Thane stabbed at his right side with the other. Metal finally encountered flesh.

Ricker didn’t react as expected. He pressed deeper into the blade. The tip slid from belly to back, allowing him to draw closer and closer to Thane. When they were chest to chest, Ricker raised a sword. With his free hand, Thane grabbed his wrist, stopping a strike. But Ricker raised his other sword, and this time Thane couldn’t stop him. The blade sliced through his shoulder.

Pain. Pain he did not welcome.

For Elin, he had to stay strong.

“You think you have me?” Thane released Ricker’s wrist, reached inside the air pocket and withdrew a dagger. He pushed the tip against the male’s voice box, drawing a bead of blood. “You think wrong. I can do this all day.”

“As can I.” Ricker unsheathed a dagger from his waist and rested the cold steel against Thane’s throat.

“Enough,” Ardeo shouted. “Enough.”

Ricker grunted with disapproval. “But, my king—”

“I said enough! He could have ended my people, but he didn’t. I won’t have him killed.”

Hate blazed in Ricker’s dark eyes as he jerked the sword out of Thane’s shoulder. He backed away, Thane’s blood-soaked weapon sliding out of his belly. Finally free, he bowed low to Ardeo, saying, “My apologies, Great King.”

Bjorn and Xerxes stepped over the bodies of the men they’d fought, men now writhing in pain, to flank Thane’s sides. They were, and always would be, united.

“You were looking for me,” Thane said to Ardeo. “Here I am.”

The king stood and stumbled over. He’d been drinking. The smell of liquor seeped from his pores. His eyes were fogged over and bloodshot, and his leathers were torn and stained with blood.

“My men want their precious women,” the king said, his voice a slur and a sneer all at once.

Thane thought for a moment. As much as he desired eternal revenge against the entire Firebird clan—did he? Still?—he had a new enemy to contend with, and the prince would require all of his skill and attention.

Perhaps it was time to clear some more weeds.

“I will relinquish your women, and even your males,” he said. “All but Kendra. Her, I keep.” He no longer wanted to torture her eternally, he realized with no small measure of surprise, but he wasn’t ready to give her up, either. “In return, you will leave the heavens and never return.”