Almara’s PovArthur and I continue to fight against the invisible restraints, but it’s like trying to swim against the current. The more we try, the harder it gets and eventually the only thing able to break loose is a sob.Grace has never seen me cry before because I know it would break her heart to see her mother upset, but now she’s looking at me without any emotion, as though she would be impartial to anyone’s distress, let alone her own mother’s.I keep trying to sit up until I know I’ve reached my maximum strength capacity. I sink back into my sweet, noticing how Zayne is enjoying watching us fail at protecting our daughter who stands mere feet away, yet is also so far gone.Beside me Arthur heaves and pants, I can sense the blood pumping through his veins. His breath is hot and heavy, laden with rage. The room no longer feels cold, instead, it’s become unbearably stuffy.“What do you want?” exhaustion creeps through each winded word. I’m so tired of guessing what to do or fight
Almara’s PovWe recite the speech in flat voices the Zayne had prepared. We go through the motions as though on autopilot, just getting through this part so that the real events can begin. For all the murderous skills the familiar have, they lack in their writing.The speech was so dry there would be no way anyone back one would truly believe we meant the words we were saying. Still, even pretending to admit defeats leaves a bad taste in my mouth.“We said our piece, now let us go,&
Almara’s PovCathy’s word hang in the air which increasingly becomes thick and closes in around us. I suddenly find it hard to breathe and every inhalation brings with it the stench of death. I pull myself away from the cell, suddenly unable to bear the sight of Robert lying like a crumbled heap of meat on the ground.The sight, the smell, it all repulses me. I try to keep the bile from rising in my stomach, but being as pregnant as I am my refluxes aren’t as strong. I retch over in the corner. My entire body shakes as I empty whatever contents are left in m
Almara’s PovDelfino grabs the scroll and gives it to Edward who turns to a bat and darts out of the room. For a second, I think Zayne might grab Edward out of the air with one easy lift of the arm, but he doesn’t. He lets him zip past him and instead moves in closer to us.“You’re a traitor,” Zayne says like this has never occurred to him before. I want to laugh and point out that werewolves had known this all along, but given the treaty we just signed, I decide not to.
Almara’s PovThough it’s dark in the dungeon, nighttime has fallen. I can tell by the heightened energy pulsating throughout the castle above us from the vampires who are their most active, meanwhile, my internal clock is slowed down and with a belly full of steak, I’m ready for bed.“You’ll have to sleep down here, for now,” Delfino says noticing the heaviness of all our eyes.“Can you bring Grace to us?” I ask.
Arthur’s PovAlmara and I leap through the castle, interweaving through battle cries and dodging attacks. Our breath is heavy and our hearts pound in synch with our paw prints beating against the hard, cold earth. I’d be lying if I said the thrill of it all is intoxicating.I drink in the rush of cool air rushing past me as sweat trickles down my back. My senses heighten to what’s important: Almara and Grace. Every other noise gets drowned out until it becomes a constant hum in the background.
Almara’s PovArthur tries the handle on the door first, and when it doesn’t budge he thrusts his entire body into it. The door’s hinges cave slightly but don’t break. Just as he rams his shoulder into the door a second time, a loud clap of thunder erupts from the sky muffling the brute force of his efforts at trying to push open the door.I stand guard and watch chaos break out all around us. As of now, every wolf, vampire, and familiar is preoccupied with the enemy in front of them. I think it helps that no one wants to come near the building consider
Almara’s PovArthur wraps his arms around me as I cradle our son. He’s stopped quieting and lays against my chest. I can’t take my eyes off of him.He’s a little red, but mostly dark. His skin is a rich olive color closer to Arthurs than mine, his hair is dark and full. He’s so small. “What should we call him?” Arthur whispers into my ear.“Perfect,”