Page 2 of Heir of Broken Souls

Too much is bombarding my mind. The worry of what exactly will happen to me once these hounds hand me over to the dark lord. How Knox is faring. The memories of the day Peter Bartholomew Covington marched tens of thousands of demonic creatures to the border between humans and Fae and declared war. The same day he took something irreplaceable from us—Ace.

Knox?

The bridge remains quiet but the river rages below, the only sign of Knox’s emotional turmoil.

Gods, he’s going to have words with me when he finds me.

The golden magic within my sternum stirs again, banging along the confines I’ve kept it in for months. I know it’s begging to help, but I can’t allow it, not when every time I give it the reins it threatens to consume me to a point of no return. I can’t trust my magic to not sweep me away.

Gritting my teeth, I try my wrists again, only for my body to freeze as a low snarl rings out. Not in a warning but a promise of harm.

I slowly lift my head from its uncomfortable position. I’m in a cave, bound to a chair, a firepit burning between myself and the two hounds that are now sneering at me.

“Didn’t your mothers ever tell you frowning causes wrinkles?”

They blink furiously. They didn’t expect that, it seems. What, were they were waiting for me to wake screaming and begging for mercy? I’m no longer afraid, of them, of anyone. Because no amount of pain will ever compare to all I’ve lost.

The hounds move toward me, utterly unaware of the demise that’s about to occur. You’d think they would learn their lesson about ropes—and how the only thing that can bind us is iron.

A saccharine smile stretches across my lips as I snap the rope wrapped around my wrist in a blink, earning a deep rumbling growl from the hounds. One snaps their razor-sharp teeth at me while the other hisses, their snake-like tongue darting out.

I kick my feet out to the side, snapping the ropes around my ankles. A sudden pain draws my attention, and for the first time I notice a blade embedded deep within my right thigh, crimson blood pooling from the wound. Wrapping my hand around the handle, I pull it out in one fluid motion, ignoring the way my blood flies in all directions.

The hounds’ eyes narrow as I stand, knocking the chair backward.

“No one ever taught you not to leave a weapon with your captor, either.”

One hound launches at me. With its jaw unhinging wide enough to snap down on my neck, I spin at the last moment and it crashes into the cave wall behind me. Not allowing it a moment to recover, I strike out, the small blade dripping with my blood now embedded in its leathery black neck.

The high-pitched wail that fills the cave makes my ears ring. I pull the blade out again, bringing with it a chunk of the hound's neck. A low hiss comes at my back.

I turn, finding the other hound leaping over the fire with a log, one end of it wrapped in cloth alight with an orange flame. The heat of the flame slicks my skin as I veer left, then right, and before I know it I’m sliding along the cave floor, the blade in my hand dripping with black blood as thick as oil as I swipe its back heel.

The screech that it lets out as it falls to its knees is music to my ears.

A smile taunts my lips, until pain explodes along my back, a burning hot fire from the hound’s jagged claws. Its hot, rancid breath puffs along my cheek, assaulting my nose.

“That got your attention, you golden bitch.”

My gaze hardens as I try everything within my power not to succumb to the pain. I gasp, short and measured, terrified if I breathe too deeply its sharp claws will puncture a lung.

“You’ll pay for every drop of blood you’ve spilled of our kind, you fucking whore.”

“Whore is a new one,” I wheeze, wincing as it twists its hand inside me.

“That’s what you’ll be when we’re through with you,” it hisses low in my ear.

At the revolting sound of its chortling laugh, I catapult my head backwards into its face. My vision flares with white-hot light, and my wound that had slowed gushes once more, but the hound screams. It rips its claw from my back, pulling a mangled cry from my lips. Despite the pain, satisfaction sizzles through my veins as the hound retreats a few steps to try and stop the flow of black blood pouring from the two slits in its face where its nose should be.

Its companion takes one look at the blood and roars with such ferocity I quickly scramble backwards, squinting through my swaying vision for the blade I dropped in my haste. “You fuckingwhore!”

The hound, whose head I smashed, lunges for its friend to stop its attack. “He specifically ordered us to keep heralive.”

“We’ll say it was an accident.”

I can’t help but snort. “Like he’ll believe that.”

Their eyes narrow into slits. “Accidents happen all the time. People fall and snap their necks, they trip and land on blades?—”