Page 95 of Queen of Carrion

The animalistic sound thattore from my maw was foreign to my ears. It was a culmination of all the rage and despair pumping through me, raw and ragged as it tore my throat to shreds.

Everything stood still.

Time, my heart, Hell itself.

I had a decision to make: take the few extra seconds needed to smother Belphegor to death, or go to Rayven. The choice was life or death.

Through this entire nightmare, I’d chosen revenge. Death first, then once I had their heads, only then would I delve deeper through the Hells after her. I’d made excuses, convincing myselfit was all for her, but inherently, it was selfish. I’d put my anger first.

Yet another way I’d failed her.

The room faded to nothing as I raced to where Rayven was strapped to the cross. She went slack in her cuffs, and I grabbed the chains and wrenched the bolts from the wood with a snarl. I lowered her to the floor and drew her into my lap. Her tear-filled eyes were wide with shock as she stared up at me.

With shaky fingers, I brushed her dark hair away from her face, my eyes slowly falling to the dagger protruding from her chest.

It had struck just to the left, a hair's breadth from the center of her chest. An inch or so of the silver blade protruded out from her pale flesh, the wound weeping tears of crimson around the metal.

He struck her in the heart. Fucking Hells!

“Rayven,” I gasped, her name lodging in my throat as emotion consumed me.

A pang of guilt shot through me as I drew her close, and she attempted to speak, but her voice came out a ragged whisper.

“I forgive you…” she said in a voice so weak, I could barely hear it.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I said, lowering my face to graze my maw gently over her forehead.

I’d been so close—so fucking close—to saving her.

The urge to transform into my lesser form, to pull her against my chest and kiss away her tears, was overwhelming, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she was safe.

Safe.The word mocked me even as it came to mind.

I’d fought tooth and claw, torn apart Hell itself, killed six of the demon lords, and it hadn’t been enough. All that, and she was still going to die in my arms. All I’d wanted was to keep her mortal heart beating, to revel in its rhythmic song forever, andI was going to have to listen to its chorus slow until it beat no more.

Only then could I revive her.

She first had to experience the pain of death, and when it claimed her, only then could I intervene.

“Belial…” Her voice was ghostly faint, and her eyelids started to drift.

I pulled back to take her in. “My grave treasure. All I wanted was to keep you safe, to make you mine.”

“I’m cold,” she whispered, and the sound nearly broke me.

I could set Belphegor’s realm on fire using his broken body as tinder, and it still wouldn’t be enough to keep her warm. Not now.

“It’s okay,” I assured her, my stomach dropping as her heartbeat began to slow. “You’re going to be fine, my treasure.”

“I’m scared,” she said, a tear sliding down her face and landing in her dark locks. “Please, don’t let me go. I don’t want to leave you. I—I want to be with you.”

She was struggling to get the words out as her heart rate began to slow.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised. ‘“I’ll be right here.”

It was coming; her death. There was no way to stop it now. Soon, her heart would give out, and her organs would shut down as blood stopped flowing through her veins.

Her fear was palpable, bleeding into the air. She didn’t have much longer, minutes at most.