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Authors: Felicity Heaton
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couldn’t delay any longer.
He focused on the mark on his back, felt it warm against his skin and start to tingle, and pictured Isla standing before him as she had in his grand hall.
Beautiful, enchanting Isla.
She had spoken about him getting what he deserved, and he wasn’t sure what she had meant by that, but there was a chance it was about to happen, and he couldn’t dispute that he probably did deserve it after what he had done to this person.
The one he intended to warn first.
Would she feel it when his eldest cousin, Snow, killed him in a fit of bloodlust?
CHAPTER 6
G rave stood beneath the columned portico of an elegant sandstone building in London, staring at a pair of darkened glass sliding doors that seemed so out of place on the old theatre and waging war with himself for a change as he debated whether or not to knock. He glanced over his shoulder, turning his ice blue gaze skywards, and cursed the faint pink tinge on the clouds that signalled what his body was already telling him.
Dawn was coming.
He had delayed long enough, dragging his feet during his preparations and his journey to the nearest portal, putting off entering it by thinking up ridiculous excuses about leaving his legion without their commander when Asher was perfectly capable of leading them in his stead, and then finally accidentally missing several vacant taxis when he had exited the portal in London.
Now, he could delay no longer.
It was either knock on the door and face his cousins, or leave now to find somewhere to wait out the day.
He blew out his breath.
He had faced enemies far more powerful than himself, had battled legions of shifters, demons and even dragons, but facing his family felt like an insurmountable task, one he dreaded, one that left him feeling death had finally caught up with him and was firmly on his heels, a shadow looming at his back waiting to strike him down.
Grave slowly raised his right hand and rapped his knuckles against the glass. Hard. When no one showed up within two minutes, he knocked again.
The doors slid open.
“You are late. Aurora is—” The immense white-haired male cut himself off and scowled at Grave, his pale blue eyes glittering with ice as his eyebrows dipped low above them. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Red seeped into the edges of his cousin’s irises and his pupils began to narrow, starting to turn elliptical. Fangs flashed between Snow’s lips as he snarled low in his throat and advanced on Grave, the sheer size of him and the threat he had issued enough to have Grave backing off a step.
Snow hadn’t courted his bloodlust.
It had been born in the fires of Hell, and wasn’t something Grave wanted for himself or wanted aimed at him. He had danced with his, had stoked it and somehow mastered it, controlled it when normally the affliction controlled its victim.
As it controlled Snow.
Images flashed across Grave’s mind, disjointed and dim memories of a night he would never forget, one that haunted him despite his best attempts to push it forever from his mind.
Blood coated everything. Splashed up walls. Ran down broken furniture.
Bathed battered bodies.
The corpses of his kin.
His aunt. His uncle.
His parents.
Snow had killed them all in a fit of bloodlust, turning their peaceful lakeside chateau into a scene straight out of a hellish nightmare.
War erupted in Snow’s eyes, the ice fighting the fire as he fought with himself, his powerful body visibly shaking. His cousin’s muscles strained against his black t-shirt, trembling beneath the tight material as he curled his fingers into fists at his sides.
“Go away,” Snow bit out, voice a deep pained growl, and staggered back a step. “You are not welcome here.”
The glass doors slid shut.
Grave pulled down a deep breath and tried to silence the voice in his mind that told him to leave. He would, but not yet. He needed to warn his cousins, even when his presence only pained one of them.
He
He focused on the mark on his back, felt it warm against his skin and start to tingle, and pictured Isla standing before him as she had in his grand hall.
Beautiful, enchanting Isla.
She had spoken about him getting what he deserved, and he wasn’t sure what she had meant by that, but there was a chance it was about to happen, and he couldn’t dispute that he probably did deserve it after what he had done to this person.
The one he intended to warn first.
Would she feel it when his eldest cousin, Snow, killed him in a fit of bloodlust?
CHAPTER 6
G rave stood beneath the columned portico of an elegant sandstone building in London, staring at a pair of darkened glass sliding doors that seemed so out of place on the old theatre and waging war with himself for a change as he debated whether or not to knock. He glanced over his shoulder, turning his ice blue gaze skywards, and cursed the faint pink tinge on the clouds that signalled what his body was already telling him.
Dawn was coming.
He had delayed long enough, dragging his feet during his preparations and his journey to the nearest portal, putting off entering it by thinking up ridiculous excuses about leaving his legion without their commander when Asher was perfectly capable of leading them in his stead, and then finally accidentally missing several vacant taxis when he had exited the portal in London.
Now, he could delay no longer.
It was either knock on the door and face his cousins, or leave now to find somewhere to wait out the day.
He blew out his breath.
He had faced enemies far more powerful than himself, had battled legions of shifters, demons and even dragons, but facing his family felt like an insurmountable task, one he dreaded, one that left him feeling death had finally caught up with him and was firmly on his heels, a shadow looming at his back waiting to strike him down.
Grave slowly raised his right hand and rapped his knuckles against the glass. Hard. When no one showed up within two minutes, he knocked again.
The doors slid open.
“You are late. Aurora is—” The immense white-haired male cut himself off and scowled at Grave, his pale blue eyes glittering with ice as his eyebrows dipped low above them. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Red seeped into the edges of his cousin’s irises and his pupils began to narrow, starting to turn elliptical. Fangs flashed between Snow’s lips as he snarled low in his throat and advanced on Grave, the sheer size of him and the threat he had issued enough to have Grave backing off a step.
Snow hadn’t courted his bloodlust.
It had been born in the fires of Hell, and wasn’t something Grave wanted for himself or wanted aimed at him. He had danced with his, had stoked it and somehow mastered it, controlled it when normally the affliction controlled its victim.
As it controlled Snow.
Images flashed across Grave’s mind, disjointed and dim memories of a night he would never forget, one that haunted him despite his best attempts to push it forever from his mind.
Blood coated everything. Splashed up walls. Ran down broken furniture.
Bathed battered bodies.
The corpses of his kin.
His aunt. His uncle.
His parents.
Snow had killed them all in a fit of bloodlust, turning their peaceful lakeside chateau into a scene straight out of a hellish nightmare.
War erupted in Snow’s eyes, the ice fighting the fire as he fought with himself, his powerful body visibly shaking. His cousin’s muscles strained against his black t-shirt, trembling beneath the tight material as he curled his fingers into fists at his sides.
“Go away,” Snow bit out, voice a deep pained growl, and staggered back a step. “You are not welcome here.”
The glass doors slid shut.
Grave pulled down a deep breath and tried to silence the voice in his mind that told him to leave. He would, but not yet. He needed to warn his cousins, even when his presence only pained one of them.
He
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