Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
How did I end up in the middle of a battle between Fae and the Forsaken? What do they even want from me? They have my blood. What more could they possibly need?
Eventually, Reaper grabs my arm and pulls me behind a building.
"We're almost there," he says, scanning the area.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
We cut down a small alley, spilling out onto another path. We move slowly, careful not to attract any attention. We're nearly to the Hall of Warriors—at least I assume that's the big building directly ahead of us—when five massive black wolves step into our path, snarling. Like the Forsaken, evil clings to them, pulsing in the air around them. They could pass as wild wolves, except for their eyes. There is no intelligence in them, nothing natural. They're as twisted and monstrous as the Forsaken, and as dangerous. It's as if they were born to hunt and kill, and nothing more.
"Varulv," Reaper growls, planting his feet. "Stay behind me, Valkyrie. Do not let them bite you."
Varulv—I know that word. I heard the Forsaken say it often enough. The wolves belong to them. I cling to Reaper's back as he steps forward, his lyststål spinning in his hands in a deadly blur.
The varulv snarl and bare their sharp fangs, saliva dripping from their jaws.
"Why are they here?" I whisper, my voice trembling with fear.
Reaper doesn't answer as he continues to advance, his gaze locked on the beasts. They circle us slowly, their eyes never leaving us.
One of them lunges forward with lightning speed. Reaper swings his lyststål with precision, slicing through the air. The varulv leaps back with a snarl, narrowly avoiding the lethal blow.
"They're trying to cut us off from the Hall," Reaper finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous.
"What? Why?" I ask breathlessly, though I guess I already know the answer.
Reaper doesn't answer. All five varulv charge us at once. He roars and jumps forward to fight them off. He moves with such grace and precision that it almost looks like a deadly dance. But even with his skill, it's nearly impossible for him to fight off all five monstrous wolves at once.
They attack from all sides, lunging and snapping at him. He no more beats one back before another advances, over and over again. He manages to bring one down and then another, but as he goes in to kill the third, another jumps forward.
"Faen!" he roars as it sinks its teeth into his arm, its bite savage.
"Reaper!" I cry.
"Reaper!" Malachi shouts, rushing into view from behind the group of varulv. He takes one look at the situation, assessing it quickly. "Fae! Beskytt Valkyrie! Beskytt Reaper!"
They wage forward like a well-oiled machine, roaring defiance. Their lyststål spin in their hands in a blur. The remaining three varulv try to flee, but there's nowhere for them to go. Within seconds, the varulv are dead, their heads separated from their bodies.
I rush forward, falling to my knees at Reaper's side.
"Nei, Tori. Nei," he gasps, his face contorted in pain. "Don't touch me."
My gaze falls on the wound, horror surging through me. It's black around the edges, lines of poison rapidly marching up his arm.
"No, no, no!" I cry, panic rising in my chest. "What can I do? What can I do?"
No one says anything. No one even looks at me.
"Reaper," I plead. "Please."
"There is nothing, little Valkyrie."
"There has to be something," I sob. "There's always something."
Reaper coughs, teeth gritted as if even that pains him.
Malachi speaks for him, his voice grave. "The varulv were twisted by a type of magic we don't understand. A bite from one is fatal, even to our kind."
Horror engulfs me, threatening to crack my heart in half. Tears stream down my face as I shake my head vehemently. "No. Please, no."
Reaper gasps as the poison continues its deadly march toward his heart. "It will be okay, Tori," he manages through gritted teeth, his skin pale. "The Fae will protect you. You will be safe."
"No! You can't just give up!" My sobs echo in the silence that follows, my heart shattering at the thought of losing him. He's become so much more than just my protector—he's imprinted himself into my very being. His strength, his gentleness…him…all of him is etched into my soul.
He opens his mouth to respond, but only groans weakly, his amber eyes full of pain. The black lines have climbed all the way up his bicep, disappearing under the sleeve of his faded blue T-shirt. He struggles to breathe, each breath rattling in his chest painfully.
He's slipping away from me right in front of my eyes.
I ache to reach for him, desperate to brush away the pain that twists so grotesquely on his striking features. Desperate to keep him here.
I need him.
It's not fair. He promised me. He promised! The Forsaken have already taken my parents, and now they're taking him too. Anger creeps into my bleeding, broken heart, filling me with cold fury. A tiny light sparks inside me, flickering like the flame of a candle.