Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(93)
Author: Gena Showalter

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.