Page 27 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

My hand slid to the sensitive part he’d touched before, and my jaw clenched when I felt teeth marks—a mate mark. “You know me.”

He knelt and turned his head to the side, offering me his neck. My world tilted on its axis when I spotted the matching mark at the base of his throat.

“Yes.”

That single word unlocked everything I’d overheard while unconscious, and conversations came trickling back.

We were…and Iaso was… What was Iaso?

This man was my…

He claimed me. Bit me.

And I bit him, too.

I claimed Rogue Draki, this monstrous, heartless man, and I couldn’t remember any of it.

An ugly twist in my gut forced bile up my throat.

I’ll kill him. Drown him. Fry his mind and crack his skull to retrieve the blackened remnants.

I spun and yanked the door open. “We’ll see how he likes the feeling of someone’s magic inside his head.”

When Rogue grabbed my arm this time, energy flowed into his skin, and he grunted but didn’t let go.

Instead, he swiveled me back to him. My irises crackled, and a blackened burn in the shape of lightning crept up his arm.

His eyes flickered into flames, but before he could do anything else, I slammed my palms into his chest with enough power to send him flying across the room.

He hit the opposite wall before falling to his knees, smoke rising around him, and I couldn’t tell if it was from my magic or his.

I stalked down the hallway before he had a chance to stand.

“He thinks you’re dead,” he shouted, a slight grunt in his voice as his footsteps pounded behind me.

“Good,” I said. “Then, he won’t see?—”

An icy presence slid in front of me, Iaso, but without her normal green. Silver blue silk clung to her brown skin, her hair dark and voluptuous, and her eyes— not Iaso. Her eyes were a pale opalescent that matched the shells pinned throughout her curls.

Unease crawled under my skin, though I couldn’t quite place why.

I attempted to side-step her, but she matched my movement, her bangles and beads jingling.

“They did not go through hell to rescue you just for you to run back into Adonis’s arms.”

I stiffened and jabbed a finger in my chest. “ I went through hell. I was tortured. I—” My mouth snapped shut. I swallowed hard and blinked away the burn in my eyes. “I’m not running into his arms. I’m removing them from his body before I take his head, too.”

I took a wide step to the left, and when she tried to block me again, I shoved past her, but another figure emerged.

My eyes crackled, sparks tickling my fingertips.

Bright silver reflected in Doran’s pure white. “You cannot go back.”

He knew what I endured. It was because of him that I was free, and right now, I trusted him more than anyone else, even if he didn’t remember me.

Not free for long, it seemed.

“I can’t stay here.”

I felt Rogue’s presence behind me before he spoke, large and domineering—irritatingly so. His scent met my nose, his warmth on my back, and Doran’s eyes lifted above my head.

“You will stay here.” Rogue’s fingers laced around my throat again and walked me back until my body was flush to his, my head on the center of his chest. “Because as long as he thinks you’re dead, he won’t come for you.”

My fists clenched at my sides, energy crawling up my forearms, as bright and silver as my eyes. “I want him dead.”

“We all do,” Rogue said.

“Why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance?” I asked everyone, but as the question left my lips, I spun in Rogue’s grasp. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, my head tilted back. “Why didn’t he kill you when he had the chance? Why didn’t he kill me?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.”

“I can’t tell you anything. I don’t know anything.”

I jerked in his hold, and he released my neck but quickly grabbed my hand. I resisted as he tugged me down the hall, glancing over my shoulder at Doran, but it was for naught. There wasn’t an ounce of emotion in his expression, but then, Delphia joined his side.

My mouth fell open. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen her, perhaps a few months ago, but she looked drastically different—skinny with bruised fists, her hair brittle and sheared into a blunt bob.

When my feet slowed, Rogue glanced back and noticed her. His grip tightened on my hand, and he stepped in front of me, seemingly shielding me from her. The hallway sweltered with heat, sweat beading along my spine as I peeked around him at her.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asked. “The next time you lay eyes on her will be the last time you have eyes.”

Delphia sucked in a sharp breath and instinctively fell back a few paces, but she held my gaze, her brows furrowed, mouth down turned. She looked…apologetic, and wariness rose in my gut. Why was she apologetic? Why was she apologetic to me?

“What did you do?” I mouthed to her, not truly expecting an answer.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Doran planted a hand on her shoulder and shook his head once.

Rogue pulled me into the room and kicked the door shut.

“What did she do?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t even acknowledge the question. “What did Delphia do?”

Again, he ignored me entirely.

“For the record,” he started, “I tried to kill him when I ‘had the chance.’ He disappeared, so either someone helped him, or…” He shook his head, releasing my hand to lift me by the waist and sit me on the bed. He, not so gently, forced me to lie back, then pulled the blanket up to my shoulders.

“Or his magic has another facet,” I finished for him as I sat up on my elbows.

He eyed my arms with annoyance before falling back into his chair with an exasperated huff. “Or his magic has another facet.”

Disappearing wouldn’t be the only one he possessed. He’d regrown the finger I bit off.

Rogue sat in a normal chair, one that offered no room for wings. A wingless Draki. A flightless dragon.

“Go ahead,” he said when he caught my stare, his voice low. “Ask.”

“Did he…?”

“The coward couldn’t do it himself, no. He ordered someone else to do his dirty work. I woke up in the Cursed Wood, alone, and they were just gone.”

Alone.

My heart caught on the word, the weight he put behind it, like that fact was worse than the mutilation he suffered. I studied him, his face, his form. For someone who lost his wings and his mate in one fell swoop—if he was to be believed—there didn’t seem to be an ounce of pain or sadness.

Why?

Then, a flash of bones and skin rotting on stone walls hit me. Bile rose in my throat, and I slapped a hand over my mouth.

He leaned forward, scanning my face. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Shaking my head, I glanced around for the nearest bin and threw myself off the bed when I spotted one. The second it was in my hands, I vomited nothing but stomach acid and water.

He held my hair until I was finished and fell back on my ass, wiping my mouth.

“I saw them,” I mumbled. “I saw them. I…” Watched them rot and decay into nothingness, like they never existed.

But I didn’t say that. I would never say that.