I had a sick feeling that both of them were Chosen, but she was what Gemma had spoken of: the Chosen who went missing and returned hungry.
Because this bitch looked like she was starving.
Her head tilted to the side as she sniffed the air. “You smell…”
I frowned at the raspy, throaty voice.
“You smell of Revenant and god,” she purred, moving fluidly, much like a pit viper. She moaned, and thick lashes fanned her cheeks. “And something else. Stronger.”
“Thanks?” I murmured, keeping an eye on her as I moved closer to the man. He wasn’t moving. “I think.”
A soft hissing sound came from her before she pressed her hands to the waist of her gown. “I’m so hungry.”
“Uh-huh.” Keeping the sword level, I bent and touched the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. I found one. It was weak but there.
The woman angled her body toward me as she ran her palms up her chest. “You smell…”
“You already said that.”
“Like life,” she whispered, her lashes lifting. Pitch-black eyes faintly lit from within fixed on me.
“What the—?”
The woman leapt at me, full-on jumped like a large feline.
She was fast—faster than I expected—and crashed into me. The impact knocked the sword from my grasp. I stumbled back, tripping over the man’s legs. I went down, my hands on the woman’s shoulders. Hitting the stone floor was brutal, but the snapping fangs inches from my face were far more violent.
“Fuck,” I gasped as I held her back, my arms trembling as she grasped my wrist.
“Let me have some,” she cooed, her knees pressing into my hips. “Just a little bit. A taste. That’s all. Please.” She moaned, her hips rolling and grinding. “Please.”
“What in the fuck?” I exclaimed. She was almost as strong as a god. “Get off me.”
“I need it. I need more,” she whined, her voice thickening. “I need—”
Pushing with everything in me, I thrust her to the side. I didn’t stay on my back, realizing how damn fast she was. I popped to my feet and looked for the sword.
She flew at me, her movements frenzied and untrained, all arms and fangs. Was she biting the air? I shoved her back. If she were Chosen, I didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe whatever had been done could be undone. I didn’t know. “You need to calm down.”
Not doing that at all, she launched herself at me once more. I dipped under her arms, coming up behind her. Twisting at the waist, I kicked out, planting my foot in her back. She careened forward, dropping to her knees. I turned, spotting the shadowstone sword lying on the mattress. Grabbing it, I spun. She ran at me at full speed. I stumbled as my arms bent—
The woman jerked, her head and legs falling forward, her back bowing. I looked down to see the sword’s hilt flush with the white robes of the Chosen’s midsection.
I looked up at the same time she did. Her lips parted on a soft exhale. My eyes locked with hers, and time seemed to slow as tiny cracks appeared in her cheeks. They spread much like the fissures in the walls had, traveling across her face and down her throat.
Her weight against the sword disappeared first, like she went hollow. Then her skin flaked off, turning to dust as it hit the air.
My mouth dropped open as she caved into herself, breaking and shattering until the sword I held pierced nothing but robes.
“What the fuck?” I repeated, frozen for a moment before shaking the blade clear of the robes and looking for some sign of the Chosen. A bone. Something.
There was nothing.
I swallowed, taking a step back. I hit the edge of the mattress and turned, looking down at the man. He was paler than before. His eyes were open, but they were glazed over and fixed. Glancing at the pile of empty robes, I knelt, touching his neck.
“Damn it.” My chest squeezed. There was no pulse. I started to pull my hand back when movement caught my attention.
His fingers twitched. Then his arm. A ragged breath left me. I pressed more firmly on his neck, searching for a pulse and still finding none. “Shit.” I looked at his arm. It was still.
Okay. I must have been seeing things.
I looked at all that remained of the woman: nothing but a pile of clothing. She hadn’t been what Aios had once called a demis. That was when a mortal who was not a third son or daughter Ascended.
The heavy fall of footsteps echoed from outside in the hall, snapping my attention to the gauzy curtain. Several shapes rushed by.
One stopped.
A man with long, light-colored hair that fell down his back lifted his chin. He turned to the curtain of the room I was in.
Stepping over the Chosen, I lifted the sword.
“Found her,” came an unfamiliar, gravelly voice.
Damn it.
Damn it.
Another appeared outside, his gold armor dull in the low light. The long-haired man thrust the curtain aside a heartbeat later, striding in.
I shot across the space. The man cocked his head, making no move to protect himself. That was fine. I leveled the edge of the blade to his throat.
“Move,” I ordered.
Though his features were lost to the shadows, I could’ve sworn he smirked as he lifted his hands.
“Moving,” he replied. “Your Highness.”
Hearing the title was jarring. Somehow, amid all of this, I’d forgotten that a Consort held a status similar to a Primal.
“Back,” I added, not having the time to wonder if this was a god or a Revenant. “Move back.”
He did just that, exiting the chamber and entering the hall. “How far would you like me to move?”
Keeping the blade at his throat, I darted behind him. The man was freaking tall, several inches taller than me, but I grabbed hold of his arm as I forced him toward the guard.
“I want you two to listen closely because I won’t repeat myself,” I said, pressing the tip of the blade against his throat. “If either of you makes even one move I don’t like, I will cut off his head. And I’m fast. You won’t be able to stop me.”
“How fast are you?” he asked, far too casually for someone who had a blade to his throat. “I’m thinking you have to be pretty fast to have made it this far.”
My heart lurched and sped up. His skin? It was warm, almost feverish, and it felt either scarred or…ridged. The man turned his head to the side.
Several blond waves fell back, revealing his cheek. “But how strong are you?” he continued, and I looked up. “Because you’re going to have to be really strong, Your Highness.”
My stomach tumbled as I saw the ridges along his jaw and cheek. They formed a pattern of scales. Then I saw one ruby-red eye.
A draken.
I was holding a blade to a draken’s throat.
Two thoughts occurred simultaneously: Had this draken wanted to bond with Kolis? And could a shadowstone blade kill a draken? I was about to find out, so I really hoped this draken was happy to serve Kolis and not doing so because he had no choice.
“Don’t,” the guard warned.
I jerked my arm back—
The draken turned, grasping my wrist and twisting. Pain shot up my arm, but I held on to the sword. It was my only weapon. My only—
He increased the pressure on my wrist, digging into the tendons there. I gasped as my hand spasmed open. The sword clanged off the floor as I kicked out, slamming my foot into his chest.
The draken didn’t even budge.
“That’s not very nice,” he said, smirking. “But if it makes you feel good, please, by all means, continue.”
“Fuck you!” I spat, angling my body away. I swung with my other arm, catching him in the chin as a thud came from somewhere behind me. I had no idea what it was, and I didn’t have time to find out.