Page 63 of Wolf of Ashes
An acidic scent rises off his body such as I’ve never smelled before, but it feels both hot and freezing at the same time, burning my lungs when I inhale.
His skin where it’s visible has turned gray, but not a sickly gray. It’s a deep, dark color. Like the scorching burn that I once wore across my cheek after my jailer torched me with his light magic.
Diavolo’s form expands before my eyes, growing taller, his muscles expanding so quickly that he tears through his shirt and pants. And yet everything about him is suddenly smoke and darkness. A contradiction between ripping his clothing while appearing insubstantial.
It isn’t exactly a warlock kind of power, but who am I to say?
The snakes that were passing through him as his form changed sail on through, seemingly without making any impact now.
They arc across the air, turning and driving through him again, but they merely float through his body, pulling smoke with them. It’s hard to tell, but I imagine they appear a little dazed and disoriented when they emerge.
Vanguard certainly does. He has dropped to one knee and when he lifts his head, he can’t seem to focus on us. He blinks rapidly and gives his head a shake, as if he’s trying to clear his thoughts.
Jonah darts in front of him, a snarl on his lips, the lighter gripped so tightly in his hand that it’s only partially visible. Whatever magic Jonah controls, I imagine we’re about to see it.
Without a word, Diavolo inclines his head at our opponents.
I don’t need any further invitation.
As we pass the panthers, they leap up at the remaining snakes. They’ll keep the snakes busy and watch our backs.
Diavolo and I prowl toward Jonah and Vanguard.
I veer to the right, Jonah firmly in my sights, while Diavolo focuses on Vanguard. Not that I don’t want to fight Vanguard, but Diavolo seems awfully tunnel-visioned right now.
I catch a flash of steel as Vanguard reaches for his sword and unsheathes it, revealing a gorgeously crafted, curved blade. I don’t exactly have time to admire it, but it’s etched with letters that are similar to the inscription on Jonah’s lighter.
Speaking of…
With a final clack, Jonah closes the lighter, places it on the table behind him, turns back to me and then—
A ball of flames explodes around his body and suddenly, he’s a mass of molten heat like a fucking volcano.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Well, fuck me.
I jolt to a stop, my claws extended and my teeth bared.
Jonah’s amber eyes blaze at me as the fire encompassing his body settles down into a simmering blaze, but I don’t imagine for a moment it’s a good thing. Every inch of his visible skin is striated with lava lines. A crisscross of molten threads. Unlike the Sentinel’s light, which could burn the flesh from my bones, this man’s power is the darkest amber. Deeply dark. Nothing light about it.
It doesn’t look like he’s inclined to give me a chance to catch my breath, storming straight for me.
I have three seconds before he’ll make contact, and I should probably be worried, but my face seems to have other ideas, my lips tugging up at the corners.
“Neat trick,” I whisper as his fist flies at my smiling mouth.
I duck the blow, making the most of my smaller size to dart to the side.
He follows me faster than I thought he would, more agile than I expected—damn him—and takes another shot at my face. Except that this time, his fist is unclenched.
Again, I evade him. As I move, my claws make contact with the side of his bare chest, scraping across his scorching skin. I feel the heat all the way through my hand, as burning hot as whatever magic broke the seal on my cage in the veil.
As fucking hot as dragon’s breath. Not that I’ve ever been breathed on by a dragon. But I’d bet it feels something like this. In fact, it’s awfully similar to the heat that broke the magical seal on my cage. Different, but just as hot.
Despite the claw marks I leave across his side, he doesn’t flinch. In fact, his fist flies so close to the side of my face that the heat sizzling across his hand is in danger of burning my mask right off me.
I dart sideways once again, ducking under his arm, and driving my claws upward, scratching all the way around his bicep.
