Movement behind him. He spun, a soulsucker slamming against him, ignoring him as much as the others, reaching beyond him to make grabby hands at Taliyah.
A flick of his wrist, and the phantom died.
He fought on. Finally a path opened up, granting him a first glimpse of Taliyah since their separation.
He wasn’t prepared, the sight nearly sending him to his knees. Though she fought with expert skill, the sheer number of phantoms overwhelmed her, the fiends landing multiple blows. They battered her with their fists. Others tore at her with their claws. Blood poured from countless gashes, soaking her precious skin.
With Roc on twenty-four-hour watch, Erebus had no more use for her. Had the god settled on overseeing her murder?
When a set of claws raked through Taliyah’s throat, tearing out her trachea, a helpless Roc could only watch in horror.
“Taya!” At the sight of her blood, her fall, his anhilla redlined. He roared at the sky as a bright, blazing light burst through his pores. His eyesight dimmed, the world around him slowing. His own blood rushed and boiled. Muscles bulged with new power.
A living wrecking ball, he heaved his big, shining body into the thickest midst of the phantoms, cutting through, sometimes three or four at a time. Soon he lost track. He killed, and he killed.
His enemies must pay. Everyone must die. Destruction would reign. Will drown this world in blood and pain!
In the back of his mind, he thought he heard his brother’s voice calling to him, telling him to cease. But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted only to slay more phantoms. He wanted to dismantle everything standing between him and his gravita.
Hurt her? Hurt my woman? You won’t just die. You’ll suffer your worst nightmare first.
A weight smacked into his chest. Cold. Slight. A familiar voice called, “Shut up, Ian. I’ve got this.”
Taliyah’s voice. Roc slowed his swinging arms. She had revived?
“See? Told you I’ve got this. Right, Roc? Babycakes? Because your sweet, perfect gravita is A-okay, honest. She’s all better, so the temper tantrum can end, all right?”
Soft fingers petted his cheeks, his beard, and he slowed a bit more. “The phantoms are dead?”
“Oh, yeah. You did so good. Everyone’s real proud. There’s talk of an award. MVE. Most volcanic exterminator.”
Jumbled thoughts attempted to straighten out. “Everyone?”
“Mmm-hmm. Just your brother and a few hundred soldiers. They arrived a while ago. I’m told the army at the wall retreated as soon as you finished off the last phantom here.” She chuckled. “When you decide to make a grand gesture, you really make a grand gesture, huh?”
Roc blinked into focus and surveyed the battlefield. He stood at the altar, still punching one end. Cracks had formed. Taliyah clung to his chest. Around him, piles of phantoms lay in various stages of evaporation. Ian stood mere feet away, as shell-shocked as the few hundred soldiers stretched out behind him.
“What’s up?” Taliyah called to someone over his shoulder. “I’m with him. He’s, like, claimed me or whatever.”
Gripping her waist, he demanded, “You are unharmed?” He needed to hear the words from her mouth.
“Mostly.”
Not good enough! When he darted his gaze for a new target, she chuckled again.
“No, don’t go trying to kill anyone else. I’ll be patched up in a matter of minutes, I swear. If you want to continue murdering the altar, though, go for it.”
Was she nearly patched up? Roc cupped her cheeks with hands coated in blood. The sight bothered him. Release her, however? No. “You stayed and fought with me.”
“Of course I did.” Those icy blues watched him, open and honest...and gleaming with irritation. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”
He scanned her face, searching beyond her expression, trust budding. He called for his brother. “Ian?”
Knowing he expected a report, Ian wasted no time with incidentals, getting straight to the point. “We lost a handful of soldiers.”
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. A single loss was too many.
“The altar—” Ian began.
“I can fix it,” he muttered without conviction.
Needing reassurance Taliyah was all right, he pressed her against the side he’d punched, right against the cracks. After bracing her weight, he looked her over thoroughly.
She let him. Ocean-water eyes remained warm without a hint of ice, her gaze inviting him in. A soft smile stole his breath.
A handful of gashes had yet to heal, and she was smiling?
He glared. “How are you in a good mood? Before the battle, you hated my guts.”
“Let’s be clear. I hated more than your guts. Then you had to go and prove your undying love for your most precious treasure, your darling Taya. You’re so whipped.”
Too keyed up with aggression, he had no idea how to respond to her...teasing? Bragging? “I had to protect my investment,” he said, spouting words she’d once tossed at him.