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Chapter Twenty-One

ELIAS

“ E lias?”

It was Arabella’s voice, and he peeled his eyes open with effort.

She stood at the entrance of Magnus’ tent, garbed in her leathers and with her two swords in crossing sheaths on her back.

Exhaustion weighed on his limbs, and he couldn’t bring himself to move from where he hung slack in the X. His wrists throbbed, and his shoulders screamed from the pressure. But he couldn’t stand even if he wanted to. It was all he could do to open his eyes and remain conscious.

Arabella ran over to him, an urgency alighting her gaze. But rather than reaching for his restraints and freeing him, she cupped his cheek in a hand.

“My poor mate,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”

She stood there for long moments, her thumb swiveling over his beard, which had grown long. It was the only way he could tell time had passed. Time had lost all meaning, and he no longer knew dreams from reality. But he guessed he must have been trapped in the X for weeks or months.

In all that time, he hadn’t been allowed to sleep more than a few nonconsecutive hours—and only when sleep overtook him after hours of torture.

He blinked slowly down at Arabella.

There had been too many times where he’d been filled with relief at the sight of her. But the moment he let his guard down, she’d plunged the syphen into his chest or ripped him open with magic.

“We don’t have much time,” she said, her voice low. “We must hurry before they return.”

For a moment, he tried to speak, to tell her to get out of here before Magnus appeared, but he barely managed to part his lips before the effort became too much.

The demon inside him raged, demanding to be fed.

The idea of feeding on Magnus no longer filled him with dread. In fact, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything at all. A strange sort of numbness had settled over his mind and heart.

But when the tent flap opened, revealing Flynn, something stirred in Elias’ chest.

“Run,” he rasped.

But it was too late.

Flynn jumped between shadows until he appeared at Arabella’s side. His hand wrapped around her neck, and she tried to fight him off. Elias watched as his mate grew pliant in Flynn’s grip. In his other hand, he held a syphen.

She made a little whimpering sound that had a burning rage awakening in him.

How dare anyone touch his mate?

As Flynn leaned in, his lips nearly pressing to Arabella’s as he summoned her essence, Elias managed to get his feet underneath him, pushing himself up while his ankles were shackled. He grunted as agony shot through his chest.

“The syphen,” he rasped. He didn’t know if Flynn had been created with the syphen in his hand or with the one Breckett had stolen, but it was her only chance of escaping. “Use the… syphen.”

The effort to speak nearly had him blacking out, and his words slurred together.

Slowly, Arabella turned her head toward him, brows drawn together. “I love you, Elias.”

Flynn gripped her face tightly, forcing her to look back at him as he pulled her essence from her. Glowing blue floated from her lips, which the erox sucked into his mouth. He watched as clouds of it moved from her body, watched as the life faded from her eyes.

He’d never heard his mate say those words, and he didn’t want his only memory of her telling her feelings to be the moments before she died—drank dry by one of Magnus’ inner circle.

“No.” Elias pulled against his restraints. “Please… don’t… hurt her.”

But Flynn didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge that Elias had spoken as he drained Arabella dry. When the life faded from her eyes, Flynn released his grip on her neck and allowed her body to drop to the floor.

A fissure that had formed in Elias’ chest cracked open further as a scream tore from somewhere in the depths of his soul.

“No!” he cried, pulling against his restraints with all his might.

Gone.

Arabella was gone.

His heart fractured into shards—his soul mere fragments of who he once was.

How could he possibly exist in the ages without her?

He’d wanted to share his world with her, to worship the ground she walked on and feel her love for him in her lingering touches and the way her gaze fell upon him in stolen moments.

But they’d never have the time.

Tears streamed down his face, and his strength was sapped from him all at once. His knees gave out first before his body dropped in the X. Once more, he dangled from the cuffs at his wrists. He let his head drop forward.

There was a flash of movement as Flynn came to stand before him. Then he plunged the syphen into Elias’ chest. A scream tore from Elias’ throat as sudden agony swelled in him, stealing his breath away.

Power flowed into the syphen, which seeped into Elias. At first, it felt like a burning sensation, as though hot oil had been spilt over open wounds.

He might have screamed again, but his ears were ringing and his heartbeat was too loud to be certain.

The power flowed into the fissure in his heart. And for the first time, that slip of power flowed inside.

“I’ve got you,” came Magnus’ voice.

Slowly, Elias managed to look up at where Flynn stood over him.

Blinking through his tears, he watched as Flynn’s form was replaced by the familiar form of the sorcerer.

Then there was a shimmering on the carpet where Arabella’s body had once been.

One moment, his mate lay there, lifeless, and the next Flynn appeared, his eyes opening as he got to his feet.

They’d tricked him.

Magnus could cast illusion magic over himself and others—or their environment.

And Elias had fallen for it. Again.

Suddenly, Magnus' power flowed into Elias’ chest and swelled in his heart. Without willing it, Elias’ power flared to life, and his eyes burned.

“At long last, I’ve reached the source of your magic,” Magnus purred. “Now, I can make other erox who can wield essence. My army will be unstoppable.”

Before Elias could speak, shadows latched on to his mind. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

Magnus pulled back, lines forming between his brows. “What?—?”

His words faded as Elias slipped into endless black.

One moment, he was in Magnus’ tent, and the next he was in the strange landscape of shadows.

The dream, he realized. This was where he’d dreamed of Arabella. It was one of the few good dreams he had of her. Lately, so many dreams of her had been nightmares—prolonged visions of her dying or splitting him open.

How am I here again?

When he’d come here in the past, he’d slipped into unconsciousness when his body failed him after hours of torture. This time, it was like he’d been summoned.

This was no ordinary dream.

And he wasn’t alone.

Arabella knelt on the ground before him. Strands of her hair had come loose from her braid and her cheeks were flushed as though she’d just come from a fight. But the look in her eyes as she took in the sight of him had his heart dropping. It was both relief and horror, desire and despair.

He flinched away from her.

Too many times, Magnus had worn her face while torturing Elias. Now, the sight of her had fear slicing through him.

Glancing down at his body, he realized he was as naked as he’d been in Magnus’ tent. Blood no longer streamed from his wrists, but he was covered in scarlet. And the syphen was still embedded in his chest.

Arabella moved in motions far quicker and more fluid than he’d ever seen. Standing before him, she wrapped her hands around the hilt and pulled. He watched, brows drawing together as she wrenched at the blade, veins bulging in her forehead. But it stayed firmly in his chest.

She’s trying to help me, he realized. But he’d seen this before plenty of times in his times of captivity. Magnus was probably just tricking him again.

Even with the distrust icing his chest, he wondered if she could tell it was his syphen. The one he’d given her before she’d fled his castle.

His thoughts fragmented as he once again saw the life drain from her eyes before her body fell onto the carpet. Something inside him had broken at that sight. Even as the memory replayed in his mind, he had to forcefully push out the countless images of when Magnus had worn her face and fed on him.

She’s alive , he thought. At least in this place, his mate was alive.

Despite everything that had happened to him, he allowed his broken heart to yearn for her. To enjoy the simple nearness of this phantom of her. He stretched a mental finger out to the bond in his chest and stroked it.

“The pain isn’t so bad,” he found himself saying.

It was an obvious lie, but he would have uttered it even if she could hear him.

Anything to take away that look of devastation in her eyes as her hands dropped from the hilt and she looked up at him.

He reached out, tracing her cheek with his fingers.

“If I could take your worries from you, I would.”

Her lips moved, but no sound came forth.

Just as every time before.

Leaning forward, he kissed her even as she continued speaking. And she melted into him.

As he did, images of Magnus glanced across his mind, unbidden. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

This isn’t Magnus. He wouldn’t have been tender.

He’d also never tried to remove the syphen. But this phantom Arabella had.

As though sensing something was wrong, she pulled back.

Those eyes , he thought as his gaze swept over the deep brown irises. Those are her eyes.

For the first time, he wondered… Had Arabella found a way to reach him?

The bond in his chest brightened as if in response to the realization, and a sudden warmth flooded his entire being. All the pain in his body retreated, even the agony from the syphen lessened in the wake of her presence.

Her hands were on either side of his face as her thumbs traced a gentle path back and forth over his cheeks. The touch was so tender, so full of longing, that something in him splintered.

He staggered to a knee, tears streaming down his face.

I want this, he thought as despair swelled in him. I want a life with you.

He’d thought he had accepted his fate and the cost of returning Arabella’s memories to her. But his heart railed against his bargain with Magnus.

Kneeling beside him, she wrapped her arms around his naked body. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and she was careful not to touch the syphen in his chest. His head dropped, falling to her shoulder as sobs wracked through him.

He wanted to take her worries from her. Yet he found the relief at seeing her slipping away, replaced once more by fear.

“I won’t make it much longer,” he rasped into her hair. “I want to fight for you. I’m trying… But he’s breaking me.”

It was an inevitability.

Soon, Elias would succumb to the torture, and then all he was would be no more.

Slowly, he lifted his head, not bothering to wipe his tears away as he turned toward her. He studied his mate’s warm brown eyes, his gaze following the trails of tears down her cheeks.

“Live for us both,” he said, somehow knowing he wouldn’t see her again. Magnus would find a way to keep him from returning. Even as he spoke, he felt a pull on his body, which no longer felt so far away. “Don’t think of me again. Be happy, Arabella.”

Lines formed between her brows, and her lips moved.

Leaning forward, he pressed a final kiss to her lips. “You are worth it.”

Then he was torn from Arabella’s arms.