Blood and brain matter spray from the rumbling sever as it chews.
The soldiers stagger, looking between each other, the stench of urine wafting through the air as they appear to realize they’ve trapped themselves inside a cage with a monster. A fierce, powerful monster who should have two beads hanging from her lobe rather than the null clip in the tip of her tapered ear.
If they were aware she only knew how to correctly pronounce a few of Bulder’s words, perhaps they wouldn’t be so scared. Even so, The Other preens at the fear in their eyes, a sharp smile splitting her blood-splattered face into something charmed from the depths of a gory terror.
Such paltry opponents.
She will crush them all, then bathe in their blood before she ruptures free of this cage and hunts this Rekk, smothered in the grume of his fallen brethren.
There’s a sharp pinch in her right shoulder, and the clamorous tunes penetrating her small, fragile eardrums hush.
Gone.
The Other frowns.
The wet groans of dying fae would be music to her ears if she weren’t familiar with this particular form of silence.
She slaps her hand on the back of her shoulder, fingering the stinging puncture, frowning when the tips come away with the smell of her precious host’s blood—eyes widening as she realizes she’s been shot.
With iron.
She spins toward the barred entryway, gaze narrowing on the fae behind it armed with a slingshot that rests against the bars.
Pointed at her.
Tossing a black hood off his head, the male shucks his cloak to reveal black leather pants and a loose white shirt that’s partially undone at the neck.
The Other takes in his long pale hair and cerulean eyes. The stick of rolled parchment pinched between his lips leaking smoke that wafts around his face.
The red and brown beads hanging from his lobe.
Most of all, she notes the lax confidence in the way he holds himself—hip resting against the edge of the tunnel like he’s enjoying the scenery.
Nostrils flared, The Other tips her head and draws deep, catching a hint of his leathery, smoke-ridden scent. The same dense smell on the dagger still tucked in her sheath.
The veins in her temple and throat bulge, jaw trembling with her welling rage.
Rekk Zharos.
“You’re the one who killed our Essi,” she growls, her voice a graveled discord of strained vocals and feral disposition.
“The little redhead?” Rekk drawls, pulling the weapon from the bars and dumping it on the ground. Snagging the smoking stick between his lips, he draws a deep breath, his next words a thick pour of white. “She screeched like a strangled bird when I slid that blade into her gut.”
The Other sneers, charging toward the bars.
“Stisssteni tec aagh vaghth—fiyah,” Rekk spits past curled lips, as if the words burned a trail up his throat before they singed free.
Flames stream from the remaining torches, ribbons of it now churning around The Other in billowing swirls that nip too close to her vulnerable skin, capturing her in a fist of fire impossible to escape. Not without a Fleshthread nearby to mend the burns she would endure.
Hands crunching into fists, she studies Rekk’s every move: the fluttered pulse in his neck; the way his lean body shifts as he unlocks the bars and swaggers into the cavern, sharp features lit by the churning flames; the bloody spurs on the backs of his boots rattling every time he steps.
His eyes glint with sadistic satisfaction while he takes The Other in, then the bloody mess she made of his comrades.
He clicks his tongue, pale brows inching up his forehead. “Impressive.”
The Other snarls, leaning dangerously close to the roaring inferno while sweat gathers on her brow and down the line of her spine. Teeth bared, she froths for his blood. For the feel of his flesh shredding between her teeth, dismal as they are.
Rekk presses the smoke stick between his lips, draws a languid puff, then flicks the butt away and pulls a coiled whip from where it’s tethered to a hook at his hip. With a twitch of his wrist, the black tendril snaps through the blaze, binding The Other in a rigid embrace that secures her arms to her sides, legs clamped together. As if cocooned by some silk-threading creature preparing her for feasting.
She falls to her knees, hissing sharp breaths while Rekk charms his flames toward the torches lining the walls. Releasing her from the fiery swirl, though bringing her no closer to the freedom she lost.
She lost.
Rekk snatches the bloody veil, exposing her. His eyes widen as she snarls through clenched teeth, jerking against her binds.
She.
Lost.
“Not at all what I was expecting,” Rekk murmurs, frowning. His hand comes forward, knuckles grazing her cheek. “Seems a shame to feed such a pretty, powerful thing to the dragons …”