The hood flared, and then, it struck.

With every bit of energy I possessed, I dove to the side, hoping it would miss me. I slammed into Zeec, and he yelped as we hit the ground and skidded.

A scream shredded my vocal cords as the snake’s fangs sunk into my calf.

Fire ignited in my veins.

Stars exploded in my vision, and then the world went black.

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41

Blinding pain ripped down the bond, and I nearly fell from my horse as we raced through the desert. Clutching my chest, I doubled over, barely managing to stay seated.

“Assyria?” I shouted down our bond.

She didn’t answer.

“Assyria!” That one came out with an intensity only reserved for my worst behaving soldiers.

Still nothing but that searing agony.

“Rokath, what’s wrong?” Rapp yelled. I couldn’t even pick my head up to answer him.

“She’s in pain,” I gritted out.

Thankfully, Rapp understood what was happening and kicked his horse, urging him on. Mine followed, and I gripped as hard as I could with my legs and knotted my fingers in his mane.

Two dogs barked, their fervency growing, and we rode straight toward the sound.

Assyria must be dying for this level of anguish.

I was no stranger to near-death experiences, and this level of torment always accompanied it. “Hurry,” I wheezed. Her death wouldn’t necessarily mean my own, but I would share this pain with her until the end.

She doesn’t deserve to suffer.

The thought stole the rest of my breath. I couldn’t—wouldn’t think about her like that.

Because she’s my mate.

Once again, I cursed the Fates. Lately, trusting their timing was becoming tedious. Whether the Weaver had deemed this path the correct one or the Reaper had placed a curse on us was undecided. We had to continue walking forward regardless.

Rapp slowed his mount as we rode upon a pile of rocks, and in the darkness, Grem and Zeec’s red eyes flashed. Rapp leaped from his horse and raced toward them, and I gritted my teeth and slid from my own. Each step was like a lance through my chest, but I couldn’t stop. Not when my mate was dying.

Cresting the rocks, I found Rapp crouched beside a limp, lifeless Assyria and a severed cobra. “Fucking Reaper,” I swore. She’d been bitten, which explained why she was suffering in such an excruciating way. The snakes found in the Paks Desert were the deadliest in all of Ravasz, which meant Assyria was quite literally teetering on the threshold between life and death.

I have to save her.

Sucking in a serrated breath, I called my wings from my back, stretching and flexing them as they settled between my shoulder blades. “Give her to me,” I growled at Rapp.

His head snapped up. “I can fly her–”

“No,” I snarled, half-stumbling forward. My heart thundered in my chest, and sweat broke out on my temples. “Take the horses and the dogs. I’ve got her.”

Rapp didn’t argue a second time. He hauled her up to where I stood, and then I clutched her to my chest like she was the key to slaughtering all the Angels.

She very well might be, for I’d spent none of this time with her trying to figure out why she was essential. An action I kicked myself for as I spread my wings wide.

Assyria weighed nothing in my arms, and with one powerful flap, I launched us into the sky. The desert air at night was biting, and I willed my wings to catch the wind and spear us straight to the healer’s tents. A shiver wracked her small frame, and I curled around her, trying to prevent her from moving.

The torture was enormous, bigger than the Skala Mountains at my back, and pure, unfiltered adrenaline was the only thing keeping me airborne.

Why did you run, Assyria?

And better yet, why did I trust her not to?

I left her in such a state of anger earlier. I should have said something, done something different. I wanted to comfort her in that moment, but she wouldn’t look at me. She twisted her dainty fingers in my heart and pulled out an array of emotions I’d numbed for centuries. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, most of the time when it came to her.

The lights from the camp grew brighter, and I barreled toward the center of it, not caring that the entire fucking army saw me carrying a limp female in my arms like a fucking hero.

With a thud, I landed at the entrance to the healer’s tent, then stumbled inside. Assyria’s head lolled to the side, and she looked so fucking pale in my arms. A cry of alarm sounded around me, and I snapped my attention to them. “Anti-venom, pium, poppy,” I managed to grind out, each step forward spearing me with blinding, unending agony.

No one moved, only stared in wide eyed, slack jawed shock.

“Now!” I roared with the last of my strength, then collapsed to my knees, Assyria still clutched against my chest. Her heartbeat was so weak, so faint…

“Your Glory, if I may,” the lead healer said, arms outstretched as if he were going to take her from me.

“Where,” I growled, and he stepped back, gesturing toward an empty bed off to one side.

My knees protested as I stumbled toward it. The bed was thin and narrow, but clean. I placed Assyria on it with as much gentleness as I could muster. Three healers were on her the moment I let go, though I didn’t move more than an arm’s length from her side.

No one bothered to tell me to leave either. “Halálhívó, would you like a stool?” an underling asked. The withering look I sent in his direction had him slinking back immediately.

“Lift her head,” the lead healer instructed one of his companions. The male worked his hands beneath her shoulders, and as he raised her, her head snapped back, unsupported.

“Out of my fucking way,” I snapped, shoving him aside and taking his place. This time, when Assyria rose off the table, my flexing biceps were there to give her the support she needed.

The lead healer poured two potions down her throat, then a splash of water. “You may lower her now.”

As I did, I jostled her shoulder, and a flare of pain traveled down our bond. Gritting my teeth, I pointed to the right one, “She is injured here too.”

“We will tend to it after her other wounds,” he assured me.

The male I had shoved and another examined her calf, splashing more potions there and using some sort of tube and bulb on two puncture marks.

Where she had been bitten.

I wanted to fry that fucking snake, and unfortunately Rapp had beaten me to it.

Fingers curling into my palms, I waited, shifting from foot to foot as they worked. My own physical agony eased, though the emotional agony was something unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was as if my heart was simultaneously racing and shattering into a thousand tiny shards, pounding so hard against my ribcage I thought it might crack the bones there and leap from my chest in an attempt to close the distance between Assyria and me. Almost involuntarily, I rested a hand on her uninjured shoulder, needing to touch her, to feel her, to ensure she was fucking here with me.

For I could not breathe, not rest, until I knew she would live.

The thought frightened me. And nothing ever caused me to feel real fear.

Color returned to her cheeks, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest softened and slowed. Sweat dotted the healer’s brows as they worked, cleaning and binding her leg. Eventually, the lead healer approached her shoulder again, moving it around and drawing a snarl from me as pain flared again.

He leveled a serious look at me. “This is going to hurt.”

Then, without further warning, he twisted, and an audible pop filled the tent. Assyria, still unconscious, jerked into my hand, a weak sound spilling from her throat. But then, the tension in her brow eased, and she sighed.