Dark Skye (Immortals After Dark #15)(71)

Of them as children caught in the rain, on the very day his father had later raided the abbey.

Thronos took her in his arms, and she leaned against him.

When the drops grew heavier, he spread his wings over his head, creating a shelter. “I’ve always room for you too.”

She nestled against him. As they watched the rain fall, she sighed, “I love you, Thronos.”

His heart felt too big for his chest, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat to answer her.

He’d squandered the treasure he’d been given.

His claws and horns were gone, but he hadn’t budged the stone. Blood from his hands and head painted his enemy.

That stone . . . not a godsdamned inch.

Unmovable. So too would he be.

Tears blinded him when he realized the stone would be her grave marker. Thronos closed his eyes and took comfort in knowing that they would share it.





THIRTY-TWO


Melanthe whispered, “Something’s behind me, isn’t it?”

Thronos’s eyes shot wide open. She stood before him on the path, frozen, her black hair haloed by purple clouds.

With not a mark upon her. He was unwounded as well.

“What is this, sorceress?” he rasped. “Real?” Of course not; he must be delirious, still sitting in his own blood, his back against the gravestone, dreaming this. But what if . . . “Do you have no memory of what’s just occurred?”

“We were fighting, as usual,” Melanthe snapped under her breath. “Focus, Thronos—what’s behind me?!”

That same hound howled and charged; with a screech, she took off past Thronos.

“Melanthe, watch for resin!” What the hell is happening? I am in hell.

No, maybe a benevolent god was giving him a second chance to save her!

On that thought, he did a swift about-face, readying for the side attack. He knew what was coming.

The second hound leapt; Thronos evaded as his wings lashed out, blinding the beast.

One down.

He’d taken the hound out earlier this time. The events would be different; he could snag Melanthe before the other beast got too close. He took to the sky, planning to scoop her into his arms.

The hound pursuing Melanthe must have heard Thronos’s wings swooping; it veered from him—

Suddenly its body crumpled. Its front paw was stuck in resin!

See how you like it, beast!

The pair of sparring dragons launched from the peak then, sending the mountain quaking. As Thronos closed in on Melanthe, the two creatures spotted him in the air and plunged for him.

New threats. If hell conspired to keep him from saving his mate . . . I’ll defeat hell.

The dragons spewed fire, but he evaded the crisscrossing streams. He dove under them, heading for the camouflage of the ground.

Thronos landed, dropping to his hands and one knee, beginning to sprint as if from a starting line. He chanced a glance behind him. As he’d hoped, the pair had abandoned their hunt, continuing on to the plateau for a guaranteed meal. But more followed, so he stayed on the ground. With the hound taken care of, he had more time—

His third stride was his last.

His feet were caught again. Another godsdamned pit! He’d done exactly as the hound had! “Oh, come on!” he yelled, grappling to free himself. “Melanthe! Don’t run, if you move another inch, you will die!”

She couldn’t hear him, was about to enter that ravine. With the boulders falling! She skidded to a stop, then whirled around to sprint for the field.

“Don’t go under that tree!” He gritted his teeth, pulling with all his might.

She sidestepped, dodging that first arrow-shaped boulder, the charred one from before.

“Don’t head for the tree!” She was heading for the tree! “There’s a pit between the roots!”

Still not hearing him, she skipped over the roots. Then . . . too late. Her upper body jolted forward before she righted her balance.

She murmured, “Thronos?” Even from this distance, he could hear her distinctly, felt the timbre of pure fear in her voice.

Their eyes didn’t meet this time; he was too busy hacking at his legs. Break the bones in one go or she dies. “Just hold on! I’m coming for you!”

Every muscle in his body strained. He could already hear the gravestone’s descent.

Thrashing, kicking, sweat burning his eyes. The gravestone snapped the limb high atop the tree.

Thronos’s bone cracked—earlier than before! I can do this, I can reach her! With one leg freed, he dared a look. “I’m coming!” The next limb down was bowing.

She knew a boulder that big would kill her. She struggled wildly.

“Just hold on!” He bit back yells as he cut, hacking through the bloody calf muscle of his other leg. Taking too much time, too much!

The boulder plummeted like a juggernaut, crushing one limb after another until it caught on the one directly over Lanthe, not twenty feet above her head.

A final defense.

“Thronos?” She’d gone still, as if she feared making too much movement.

“I’m not letting you go! I’m coming for you! We’re not done, Melanthe.”

“I wish things had been different,” she said, voice thick with tears.

“They will be! Fight, Lanthe!”