Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(94)
Author: Gena Showalter

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 uncorked 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.”