Page 22 of The Edge of Darkness

“Remember who I am, darling.” He grinned, and gods did I miss seeing that.

“He’ll be more than fine in a few minutes if those herbs have anything to do with it,” Maeson added. “And without the irons, he’ll be fully healed soon enough.”

I recalled the herb’s swift effect on me when I had returned from Benmoor. It rapidly purged the lingering poison, and I had full use of my power within half an hour.

Even with just fae blood, Niall was powerful beyond measure. His rapid healing only served as further proof.

“When we leave here, we need to make an immediate left, then another at the end of the hall,” Niall instructed. “We’ll follow that tunnel around. That’s the way they brought me in. From there, Morah can direct us.”

Remic suddenly stiffened, sensing something before we were able to. Without warning, he whirled toward the entrance. A prickling sensation danced through the air a moment later as the hinges groaned open, and we all froze as five guards entered, armed to the teeth.

These bastards again.

I watched as the same two guards that had been present for all of my beatings and lashings filed in through the doorway, followed by three others I hadn’t seen yet.

Next to me, Auren drew her sword—probably out of instinct.

Growing up, I had often resorted to my sword as a first line of defense, to keep from using my power. But those days were long behind me, and no matter how much I loved swordplay, shadowfire was the most practical method of action, especially now.

At the sight of the guards laying eyes on my mate, I snarled. The mating bond was still lingering heavily on my end since I’d spent the last few days unconscious—following what had been a gloriously extensive exploration of my mate’s gorgeous body. Just thinking back on it had me on the verge of arousal.

Gods, I’d just come off half a week’s worth of poison, and I was already desperate to claim her again.

I quickly tried to think of anything else—preferably not from the past—but Ramil’s toxic dust had stirred something up within me by bringing those memories to the surface and warping them into my worst fears.

Now, something inside me itched to get out.

One of the guards from before, the one with the patchy red beard, looked at Auren. “What’s this?” he said, feigning surprise. “Come to rescue your little High Lord, have you?” He stepped closer, drawing his sword. “Are you ready to die for him?”

Before my mate could reply, I pulled her behind me. “Touch her, and I will burn you alive from the inside out.” I felt my power rallying under my skin alongside my threat. Shadows danced on my fingertips at my sides, ready to do my bidding. The sensation felt like a dose of adrenaline as it filtered through my chest and spread down my arms. It was a welcomed feeling that I relished. Going even a few moments without power was beyond frustrating. Going half a week without it . . . I felt renewed having it coursing through my veins again.

“And you,” the same guard said, pointing his sword at me. He hesitated when he noticed my newly healed skin, free from the iron nails. His eyes flicked to the severed shackles on the floor behind me. “You’re not going anywhere.” His voice shook, but he held his sword steady.

I had to hand it to him, he was doing a good job at maintaining his composure, but I could sense his insides roiling.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” I said, taking another step forward and tilting my head to the side. The guard yielded a step back, but the others held their ground as I spoke. “You can threaten me all you like. But threaten my mate or my family, and you’ve signed your death warrant.”

The images of Auren being tortured were still fresh in my mind, and probably would be for a very long time. Hearing this male taunt my mate with death? Well, all that did was add fuel to my raging fire. Whatever hallucinogen Ramil used on me had my mental state as unsteady as an empty barrel in a windstorm, and I couldn’t have controlled my rage even if I wanted to.

He’d poisoned my mate, my second-in-command, and me. At a gods-damned engagement celebration. Unfortunately, these poor sentries were going to suffer for it.

Shadowed flames licked up my arms and chest, blowing off my back as I stood in pure, feral rage. Darkness encompassed me like liquid fire. Like wrath given form. The nightmares that dreamers lived in fear of.

I smirked, one side of my lips rising slowly as my eyes lit into a burning, molten gold.

The guard worked on a swallow and glanced over his shoulder at the others behind him. They moved, drawing swords and picking their opponents, but none would make it more than a step from where they stood.

The shadows poured out from my fingertips and danced around the feet of the guards like eerie black flames, waiting for their cue to ignite and burn.

I always loved seeing the reaction of those about to die by shadowfire. That is, when I let them see it coming. I could burn them from within without even lifting a finger, but this was far more entertaining.

Liquid night broke off into separate forms, circling each guard like a predator, taunting them, relishing the invocation of fear. I had no intention of reeling my power back in. It was as if the poison had loosened the grip of my control, and my power wanted to enact revenge for itself.

“What is this?!” the pale-skinned guard on the left cried out as he watched the darkness creep closer.

“Your death.”

I could feel their fear as they all held their breath.