Page 100 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

A ssyria’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, body collapsing inward. Leaping forward, I caught her inches from the ground. Her frame, so small in my arms, felt like a dying ember. The weight of her limp body twisted a knife between my ribs. Terror blistered my blood, black and thick like pitch.

Why did this female continue to take poison and venom like it was nothing? When I fucking saved her life again, I was going to shake the foolishness out of her. After I fucked her so hard that she knew nothing other than my name.

“Get everyone back safely and you’ll have earned your rank,” I snapped at Zurronar. Without waiting for a response, I yanked my membranous black wings into existence. Air resisted me as I speared through it, clipping the treetops and begging the wind at my back to aid my desperate flight.

“You will not die on me,” I growled down our bond. She was unconscious, but even in that state she would fucking hear me and she would fucking obey for once in her life.

I refused to believe otherwise.

A cough rattled her chest, and I clutched her to me, trying to keep her warm. Crystals solidified on my metal armor, the cold and the altitude lacing a deadly combination.

Faster, Rokath, faster.

I flew like fury made flesh, my only focus on what lay ahead. Everything behind me didn’t matter. Only Assyria’s breath. Her pulse. Her sharp tongue that shredded me to ribbons.

Flapping my wings, I clawed for every bit of distance. The embers dotting the outpost crackled into full blown flames. Assyria trembled as death licked her skin.

I slowed my pace, preparing to land. My feet thudded against the roof of the second building where the healers were located.

Pounded a staccato rhythm as I neared the edge and leaped to the exterior landing.

With my heavy boot, I banged on the door.

A female—still dressed in wool sleeping attire—appeared in the crack. Her eyes went wide as she beheld us.

“Halálhívó!” she exclaimed, throwing it wide and allowing us entrance. She shouted for assistance while directing me to place Assyria on a table. “What happened?”

The former priestess yanked bottles from shelves, instruments from drawers, and gathered clean cloths onto a tray.

Hooking my fingers beneath the metal, I eased Assyria’s helmet over her head. She needed an antidote, or more, and the slim cutout down the center of the metal wasn’t enough to reach her mouth.

Flakes of half-digested food clung to the edges. I’d clean it later, once I knew she would live. “The Angels stabbed her with some sort of poison-coated weapon. A soldier we rescued initially came in with the same ailment.”

The doorway filled with a line of bodies. One of the healers that had been there when we’d brought Zurronar home shimmied through the crowd and studied my mate. He offered rapid-fire instruction to the others, then conversed with the female who had awoken first.

I forced myself to take a step back and let them work. The bond shrieked at me for daring to put space between my mate and me while she was injured, weak, vulnerable. I gritted my teeth, fingers biting into the metal I’d had crafted for her.

Zurronar had recovered quickly, unlike Rapp, and the sooner they could give her an antidote or whatever the fuck, the sooner I could take her to bed and hold her.

That didn’t stop my feral pacing or the sharp attention I paid to their movements.

Someone tipped a vial into her mouth—pium, from the green color of it. I nearly laughed. It was probably unnecessary, but she was my mate, and they weren’t going to let her die. They were going to throw everything at this to save her.

Minutes that felt like hours passed before her lashes fluttered over her cheekbones. With a gasp, she bolted upright, those devious burgundy eyes seeking me out. A few healers sighed. Others slumped against the nearest object. Probably because now they knew they’d all live.

“Assyria,” I breathed, snatching her to me. The snake binding my chest slithered away, leaving room for air to expand my lungs.

She let out a hacking snicker.

“This is not funny,” I snapped at her. “You do not get to laugh when I almost lost you.”

That only served to amuse her more. “Yes it is and yes I do.”

“You almost died. Again .” The violence in my tone had everyone else in the room taking a healthy step back.

“The Fates enjoy fucking with me. I’ve escaped death more times than I can count now,” she giggled. I pressed the back of my palm to her forehead, finding it sweaty and feverish.

“She’s delirious,” I pronounced. “She needs her temperature down. ”

“We know, Halálhívó. If you’ll allow us to keep working,” the female healer said, wringing her hands.

“I’ll stay right here,” I informed her. She nodded and then gestured for the rest to join her.

“I’m not delirious,” Assyria protested. I gripped her shoulders as they cleaned the wound on her arm, which, thankfully, wasn’t too deep. She hissed as they poured pure alcohol on it. She whimpered as they dug a needle into her skin to stitch it closed.

“This is so much worse than when you branded me,” she pouted. A few pairs of eyes flicked in our direction.

“Keep fucking working,” I snarled back. They wisely refocused on their tasks. With a fire going, salt slicked my skin and dripped down my temples. I risked a moment of releasing Assyria to yank my helmet off my head. It joined my mate’s at my feet.

Tension eased from postures around me.

Good to know its intended effect works on them too.

Assyria sagged into me as the healer tied off her stitches. The crease of pain in her brow was absent, and those bow shaped lips were slightly parted. Fatigue washed down our bond.

Once her arm was wrapped in a white bandage, the female healer declared there was nothing more they could do and that her fever would break sometime in the night.

“You’ll come check on her first thing,” I commanded, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“Certainly, Halálhívó,” she promised. And with that, plus a few potions, I departed, Assyria in my arms. By the time we landed at the primary building, the rest of the Deathveiled had returned.

“Oh, thank the Fates,” Zurronar swore when he saw Assyria was still alive. Her other protectors seemed equally relieved, especially the two females.

“Without her, I don’t know that we would have been able to stay,” Izzenna murmured, looking at her like she was a fallen Fate.

“You would have. She’s not the only reason these changes are happening,” I replied, my brows pinching. These females were useful, and they’d proven themselves worthy of the challenge over and over again.

Vokkia eyed me with a hint of suspicion. “Before her, we were only useful as priestesses or mothers. Because she fought for us, she gave us another purpose. She is our symbol of hope.”

Had Assyria been conscious, she would have burst into tears. This was what she had always wanted—maybe not to be so venerated, but for the females to feel free. For once, I welcomed that emotion for her. Allowed myself to feel the pride in what we had built together.

I cleared my throat. “Good work tonight. Rest up and tomorrow we’ll see what kind of damage we caused.”

Wicked grins split many of their faces.

“What do you want me to do with her?” Uzadaan asked, hefting the Padisa higher on his shoulder. Thankfully, she was still unconscious.

“Secure her in a cell away from the rest. Don’t want them giving her any ideas,” I said. I’d deal with her in the morning. At least Araquiel had spoken true, despite the fact Assyria was currently injured and feverish.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, taking to the air and sailing downhill.

Zurronar, Izzenna, and Vokkia lingered for a moment longer, their concern for my mate etched into their expressions. “She’ll be alright,” I told them. Like I didn’t need that reassurance for my fucking self.

“Yes, Halálhívó,” Vokkia murmured, ducking her head. She linked arms with Izzenna and the two strode down the stairs to the bottom level where their bunks waited.

Zurronar shifted from foot to foot.

“Yes, soldier?” Irritation nipped at my nerves. All I wanted was for Assyria to rest, and these delays were not helping that.

“I wanted to apologize, Halálhívó. I should have protected her better. I didn’t see the Padisa’s dagger until it was too late. I understand if you don’t want to offer me the title of Parancsok now.”

A tumultuous mix of rage and regret tumbled in my gut.

His brother had died protecting my mate. Here he was, despite that, ready to give his life for her too. But more than that, a glimmer of my younger self reflected back at me. The guilt. The self-loathing. The what ifs.

“You have earned it, Zurronar. Now rest. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

He nodded, offering me a firm salute, and sailed off after Uzadaan.

I dragged in a breath, the chill searing my throat. Then, I shoved open the door and entered the officer’s floor. It was emptier without Rapp and Kiira here.

Shaking thoughts of my best friend and my cousin off, I settled my obstinate mate into our bed.

A small noise of protest slipped out of her as I retreated.

But she sighed and scooted into her pillow.

I went to the attached bathing chamber and cleansed myself of blood.

When I rejoined her, she was curled on her side, breathing even.

Her skin didn’t burn as I lifted the blankets and settled them over us.

She stirred and flipped to face me. “You saved me. My hero.” Her tone was light, teasing, and made me grit my teeth.

“I told you during our first meeting, little imposter, that I am no hero. I am decidedly the villain. ”

She snorted and walked her fingers up my chest. The pale wrap flitted in the edges of my vision.

“Did you not ensure the Padisa was unarmed?” I gritted out, snatching her arm.

She huffed, blowing hair out of her face with the same breath. “It was late at night. She didn’t appear to have any weapons.”

“Assumptions kill,” I admonished. “You have to disarm someone before you grab them. Otherwise, one wrong move and this will happen again .”

Her brows pinched. “Can you not right now? My head hurts.”

“No.” I pulled her flush against me, her breath hitching. “It is my duty to ensure you are capable of surviving when I am not by your side. I cannot lose you. Now tell me what you will do the next time you are capturing an Angel.”

“I’ll remove all their weapons and pierce them with bronze so they can’t use their magic too,” she sighed, forehead dropping.

I released her arm at last. “Good girl. We’ll train it more specifically tomorrow.”

With a groan, she flipped over and pressed her back into me. “Fine. Now fuck off so I can sleep. My head is killing me.”

I pressed my lips to her soft temple, inhaling her garden-like scent. She’d lived through another tenuous mission. But how many more times would the Fates allow it? How many more times could I allow her to wander away from me?

Guilt clawed at my stomach at the thought. I’d empowered her all this time, but I was weak—so fucking weak—when it came to her. So I draped myself around her like I could fasten her to my side. Because when we woke, I wasn’t sure I could let her go.