A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

“No,” he refused. “We leave now.”

Stubbornness dug in. “Why can’t I say goodbye?”

His cold stare held mine. “Because if I see the woman who may be your mother again, I am likely to kill her for pleading for that shit’s life.”

I sucked in a surprised breath. There was no mistaking the truth of his words. He would kill her, and a dark, savage part of me wanted to see it.

There was something so very wrong with me.

“Will my family know that I am with you?” I asked.

Ash nodded. “They will be advised.”

Unfolding my arms, my hand trembled as I placed it in his. A static charge danced between our palms as his hand closed firmly around mine.

Air lodged in my throat as a white mist seeped over the floor, heavy enough to obscure the cracks in the tile. The mist churned the edges of my night rail. Ash stepped into me, and the tendrils thickened. His thighs brushed mine, and the scent of citrus lingered on my breath.

His gaze caught and held mine as the tips of his fingers touched my cheek. The mist grew, slipping over my legs, my hips. As much as I tried to fight it, panic cut through me as it glided over our hands, the feel of it cool and silky.

“This may sting a little,” he said, the silver of his eyes beginning to swirl, to mix with the mist—with the power. “For that, I’m also sorry.”

There was no chance to ask what he meant or to struggle. The mist swallowed us, and a sharp, burning sting swept from the tips of my toes to the springy curls that had slipped free. Silvery-white light flashed before my eyes and behind them, and then I was falling.

I came aware, all my senses firing at once. I was astride a horse, seated sidesaddle, and the entire side of my body was nestled against the hard, cool length of Ash. My cheek rested on his shoulder, and every breath tasted of citrus and fresh mountain air. For a moment, I could almost pretend that this was a normal embrace. That the strong arm around my waist holding me so carefully and tightly was because I was wanted. Cherished.

But I was never good at pretending.

I started to sit straight.

“Careful.” Ash’s voice was like smoke in my ear, his arm tightening around my waist. “It’s a long fall from Odin.”

My gaze lowered, and I felt my stomach drop. The sable-black steed was several feet taller than any horse I’d ever seen. A fall would surely break bones or worse. I shifted, frowning when something soft glided over my once bare arms. A black cloak had been draped over me.

“Saion found the cloak,” Ash answered my unspoken question. “Not sure where he got it, and I decided that neither of us probably wanted to know. But he figured you’d be more comfortable with it.”

Curling numb fingers around the edges of the soft cloak, I lifted my gaze to the heavy canopy of tree limbs I’d recognize anywhere.

“We’re in the Dark Elms,” I said, throat and mouth feeling as if they were full of tufts of wool.

“We are.” His breath stirred the top of my head. “I expected you would be asleep for far longer. You shouldn’t have awakened until we were in the Shadowlands.”

I looked at him then, his features cast in shadows as we passed under the canopy of branches. “What did you do?”

“The mist? It’s eather. Basically an extension of our being and will. It can have a certain effect on mortals if we allow it. In your case, making you sleep,” he explained. “I didn’t want to draw any more unnecessary attention.”

“What kind of effect does the mist have on others?”

“It can kill them within seconds if that is our will.”

Swallowing hard, I realized that I was holding myself stiff and straight as a board. I thought of Ezra, Marisol, and Sir Holland—wherever he may be. “You said that other gods could learn of you coming for me. Will my family be okay?”

“They should be,” he answered. “Once you are introduced as my Consort, only the most foolish of gods would go after your family, as they would become an extension of mine.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring. Breathe in. Ezra was smart. So was my mother.

“Saion or Ector will warn them though, or already have,” he added. “And there are…certain steps that will be taken just in case. Wards they will be left behind.”

“Wards?”

“Spells fueled by Primal magic that will block gods from entering their homes.” He shifted slightly, and a moment passed. “I will make sure they are safe, even if I don’t feel they deserve it.”

My gaze cut to his as a feeling of gratitude swelled. I didn’t want to feel that. “Ezra—my stepsister. She’s good. She deserves it.”