Page 65 of Her Tortured Beasts (Her Vicious Beasts #4)

Chapter 64

Aurelia

I t had been completely out of my control.

I’d known for weeks that my anima was trying to claw her way back into control of my consciousness as she had once done. We needed protection from the increasingly maddening consequences of the decisions I’d made.

And she was not happy that we’d left our mates.

So when Flores Drakos, with all the sheer power the Wild Goddess had given dragon-kind, had broken my femur and torn my leg clean off, my anima had shifted into the only creature that could save us.

One of the few creatures on the planet who could re-grow an entire limb.

My anima holds me in a tight grip now, as we lie on the rocky floor as a star-shaped being, a form so alien, so new.

I’d never shifted into something without a head before, and the only reason I even knew I could was from a trip to the city aquarium in grade two. There was a shallow petting-pool for us tiny kids to feel the sea urchins and starfishes under the water. I’d giggled and squealed when I’d touched the cool, firm limb of the orange star-fish. It had been rougher to touch than I thought. Stronger.

That trip now saved my life as an adult.

The shock of having an entire limb amputated sent my brain into a near-catatonic state. The Collector had, ironically, saved my life when she’d zapped me into shifting. No doubt that had been part of the plan.

If I’d stayed in my human form, I would have died from blood loss and probably shock, but as a starfish, my mind sways silently along the currents of the tank created by the electric motor.

I must be still.

I must be silent.

Every ounce of energy goes into re-growing my severed limb. Because one of the first things a healer learns is that without a hind limb, a wild animal is dead.

And I let the silence take me, until, that is, at some point, when my three mates stride into the room outside my tank.

I have no ears to hear them with, but I do have tiny eyes on the tips of my remaining limbs. So when I sense them enter the room, my eyes perk up and I see three large shapes through the glass.

“Savage, ” I whisper to myself. “Scythe, Lyle. My mates. The parts of my soul.”

My anima cries out, desperate and longing. If I had human eyes, they would have filled with tears, and if I’d had a human throat, I would have screamed their names.

I need them. I want them.

“Savage!” I scream to no one but myself. “Scythe! Lyle!”

I need you, I need you, I need you. Please save me. Please love me. Please forgive me.

One of the figures moves closer and I feel my wolf hovering right before me.

“Savage!” I scream into the void. “Please, Savage! See me! I’m here! See me! See me!”

He moves away and I weep and I scream and I curse myself for my choices, for my fucking self-sacrifice, for my complete and utter idiocy.

And then he’s back. The current shifts and I feel my wolf disturb the water as if he might actually be reaching for me.

“I’m here, Savage!” I cry with such desperation it actually might break me. “Down here! Please!”

And then he’s gone, and they are gone, and the voice in my head screams on and on. My heart goes silent. Any hope I had, any dream that once was, is gone with those three figures.

I am but a lonely starfish, lost in the dark.

There is nothing left for me here, in this world, nor in any other.

The Boneweaver lineage dies here, with me.

I am sorry.