Page 143 of Commanding Flame and Shield
There was no hesitation in my answer. “With my life.”
“Thank you for that. For believing in me. Things might get…intense. And I need you to trust me. Please don’t let that go.”
My throat felt swollen as I swallowed down the fear that rose there. The images of the injuries she had already subjected herself to in the name of victory flashing through my mind. Selfless, masochistic soul. I could have sworn the corner of her mouth quivered, just a bit.
I managed a small nod. With a bit of focus, my lungs drug down a long, steadying breath. Loving Alvara was, indeed, like loving a force of nature. But she was the cleverest, most calculated, levelheaded being I had ever known. Down to those injuries. Those courageous sacrifices. And I loved her more than life itself, so I was allowed to speak my heart.
“I will follow you, to the end of this life, and into the next, my love.”
Her throat bobbed, eyes welling. I leaned forward, and carefully tucked her hair behind her ear. I wasn’t sure if she was breathing as I pulled back.
“I was hoping you would say that.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
SOUL NOVA
AUGUST
The fireside had grown quiet at last, all of us resting our hands on full bellies. If there was one thing Grayshell did exceptionally well, it was holiday feasts. Despite gorging myself to the brink of nausea, the saccharine smells still filling the room kept me wishing for more room for the sweets and pies and tarts now stacked tall in the grand hall. Alvara, book in hand, was laying across my lap, humming to herself as she read. My fingers meandered through her endless curls, occasionally taking to braiding thin lines of chocolate strands together. Something I had learned from and for Freya, what felt like many lifetimes ago.
There was a part of me still aching with homesickness after hearing her voice on the phone. My mother had been less than amused at my flimsy excuse, and demanded that the next holiday season be spent with them. Only fair for this newinfatuationto trade off years, obviously. I'd laughed and assured her she'd get to meet Ally soon. But it was of Freya and James that I was thinking as the fire popped and brought me back to the room.
Fae, after kissing my cheek in thanks for the new silver bandolier, had settled in, curled up like a cat beside us, and fallen asleep. Alec and Aren were both lazily playing a game of chess, sprawled back in their armchairs as they flicked their pieces along the board in a half-assed manner. Too overindulged to so much as grumble when the other bested them. The former had bestowed new custom engraved daggers—meticulously balanced—on each member of the coven, and the latter had proudly revealed new body armor that he’d commissioned for us. Fierce looking skintight suits that looked like golden dragon scales, and allegedly, would be just as difficult to pierce. The Commander had grinned as he gave us the tutorial, pointing out all the hidden sheaths and blades. More pride swelled from him as he showed Ansel how to turn them black, in case we needed to conceal ourselves in the shadows. Lana was the most pleased of the group of us. Literally squealing as she tested a mechanism in the sleeve that would slide her favorite blades directly into her palms. Running her fingers over the Grayshell crest on the chest plate, she formally dubbed it our battle blacks. She and her mate would, of course, be using the recon side most often.
She and Ansel were both now perched in the window seat, feet touching as they scoured through books of their own.
“Research,” the evasive warrior had told me when I inquired, not bothering to look up from the page in front of him. “On clairvoyance—on Alvara and Adrastos. We need to figure out how to stand a fool's chance against the coming host.”
I looked around the warm room, trying to breathe in the sight of that flickering fire, and soft croons of Bing Crosby—Aren’s favorite—turning on the record player.
Despite the apparent bliss of our little cadre, my stomach turned in uneasy circles, heart never quite reaching its usual unperturbed beat. My focus remained on the ivory curves of Alvara’s soft skin, her rosy cheeks warm with brandy, and fire. The way her eyes shifted as she read line after line, and page after page of the book grasped in her long fingers. Her chest subtly rising and falling in easy, drowsy breaths. Breaths that suddenly hitched, her brow furrowing, and eyes narrowed with amusement. She snorted. No one seemed to notice but me.
What?I asked casually.
“Adrastos just stuck his tongue out at me. He’s just toying with us now.” She said the statement with no urgency, but every head snapped her direction, save for Fae who still slumbered.
“He…what?” Aren demanded, sitting up in his chair. She set her book on her chest and replayed the vision in her mind.
Knowing it would soon be taken anyways, I unleashed every ember of power on the first line of foot soldiers, leaving only ash in their wake.
It was odd, watching directly through her eyes. But I could feel the steady beat of her heart, the unfaltering strength in her, and somehow, it soothed me. Despite the host baring down on her.
Panting, sucking down breath as viciously as I could, Ansel whispered in my mind, “Twenty-five hundred”.
Aren rumbled a morbid laugh,“That might be a record”.I nodded, still panting, hands braced on my hips. It wasn’t enough. Still wasn’t enough. Their numbers were staggering. I began to burrow, to dig deep into my strength, rallying another blow before the energy was stripped from us. August was engaged with the pony-sized wolves, his blade slicing through them with unmet precision. Too easily. Something wasn’t right.
As their bodies fell, they shifted. Souls. Shifting souls, sent trapped within their beast forms as a distraction. I whirled but found Aren’s hulking form between me and Adrastos—his blade tipped against Aren’s throat. Ansel snarled a warning growl…And the entirety of my gifts drained out of me. A cruel smile twisted on our enemy’s thin lips, and then he grinned—a real one—and stuck his tongue out at me, like a child.
Aren rumbled a laugh, despite the taunting clairvoyant slap. Alvara seemed entirely unperturbed.
“For each plan I hatch,” she sighed, “he crafts his own counterattack. This is only a game to him. One of many, no doubt.”
“Perhaps if you spent less time reading smut, and more time playing chess, you would have beaten him by now.” Alec flashed a teasing smile, wiggling his queen under a nonchalant finger.
“Perhaps if you stopped talking shit, you might actually win,” she snapped back. Alec furrowed his brow and returned his eyes to the board, just as Aren claimed the game. That grizzly bear grin stretched across the Commander’s face, unruffled by the opponent toying with his second.
I tried to embrace their blasé demeanors. Tried to mimic the ease of Aren’s movement as he relaxed into his chair. Tried to absorb a bit of my mate’s composure as she flipped her novel back up, staring down her nose. But it was Ansel, those startling silver eyes locked on me, that seemed to understand. He jerked his head to the door, folded his book under his arm, and left the room without saying a word. Movements lithe and predatory, even in the Christmas facade we all seemed to cling to.
