It works, for a moment – before the priest growls another one of those arcane words and I feel a pulse of burning heat coming from his left hand, his wrist suddenly becoming white hot – way too hot for me to hold, lest my skin begin to melt – I roar at the pain and the frustration but hold on lo

“Are you all right?” I ask, leaning over him, worried – “I’ll be fine,” he groans, waving a hand at me. “It hurts but – it’s nothing bad – thank you, Luna,” he murmurs, leaning his head back against the pillow and squeezing his eyes tight in pain. I nod to him, making a mental note to come c

I turn to her, my poor tired sister, and open my arms out, inviting her in for a hug which she happily accepts. “How is Sinclair?” I ask, looking to the corner of the room where her mate naps lightly, Rafe secure in his arms even as he sleeps. Sinclair’s burns were worse than Rogers, but likewise su

And I put my head on my poor wounded mate’s shoulder and let him lead me away to our room. Now, in the cold light of morning, I wake before Sinclair and take a moment to look him over while he’s sleeping. The burns on his body were restricted mostly to the skin that wasn’t covered by clothing, a

“We are,” Henry confirms, drawing my eyes towards him. “But the master,” I say – and as I talk, I know I should just shut up and listen, but I can’t help myself. “Did he mean – did the priest mean the God of Darkness?” “That’s where it gets complicated,” Henry says carefully, speaking slowly