36. Sapphire

Sapphire

This dark angel is different from the male who attacked me and Zoey. Smaller, but faster, her sleek form gliding through the air with practiced precision.

The sword she’s carrying is long and dangerous, the wind propelling her forward like a storm unleashed.

I pull out my dagger.

Riven’s sword flashes, slicing through the icy air to meet the dark angel’s attack.

The clash of metal rings out, and ice surges from his blade, snaking toward her and forcing her back.

She recovers with startling speed and lands in the snow, crouched low, her wings spread wide. Her midnight eyes gleam with malice, and she hisses, a sound that chills me to the bone.

“She’s fast,” I mutter, shifting into a defensive stance.

Wide stance. Center your weight. Use your opponent’s momentum against them, I think, remembering what Riven taught me in the cave.

He nods, as if he can read my thoughts, his sword steady in his grip. “Stay close.”

The dark angel lunges again, whipping her wings forward. A gust of wind howls toward us, sharp and biting, carrying shards of snow and ice.

I scream and throw up my arm, calling on my air magic to buffer the attack.

The wind slows just enough for Riven to step in front of me, his sword flashing in a defensive arc that drives her back.

“Stay behind me,” Riven orders, cold and steady.

“Not a chance.” I reach out with my magic, pulling water from the snow at my feet.

It gathers in glistening droplets, hardens into razor-sharp shards, and with a flick of my wrist, I hurl them at her like tiny bullets, putting wind behind them to propel them faster.

The dark angel’s lips curl into a cruel smile as she turns to me. “What’s this? A fae with both water and air magic?”

My stomach rises into my throat, and I steal a quick glance at Riven.

He’s not looking at me.

Instead, he runs toward the dark angel and strikes, his sword cutting through the air in a deadly arc.

His blade catches her shoulder, drawing blood.

The scent hits me in a wave of mouthwatering sweetness, and my fangs ache to descend.

Not now. Please, not now, I tell myself, forcing my attention back to the fight.

The dark angel’s wound heals, and my hunger ebbs. Slightly.

Recovered now, she comes at me with terrifying speed.

I duck and roll like Riven taught me, narrowly avoiding her blade.

That was close.

Too close.

I come up behind her, my dagger ready to strike, but she spins faster than I expect.

Her wing slams into my chest, sending me sprawling into the snow.

The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. My dagger flies from my grip, landing in the snow across the clearing, and a massive white blur explodes from the trees.

Ghost.

He barrels into the dark angel with a growl that shakes the ground, colliding with her in a blur of teeth and claws.

She screams, trying to push him off with a blast of wind.

But his jaws close around her neck, biting down, sending blood spurting out in a crimson arc.

It splatters across my face—rich, intoxicating, and alive.

A drop reaches my lips.

The taste.

The hunger erupts into an inferno, and my fangs descend, sharp and aching with desire.

Before I can process what I’m doing, I’m on my feet, and a blast of air magic sends Ghost stumbling back with a startled growl.

He hits a tree, shaking snow from its branches.

With the snow leopard out of the way, I pounce on the dark angel with inhuman speed, pinning her to the ground and holding her there with strength I didn’t know I had.

Her midnight eyes widen, and I lower my head to her neck, sinking my fangs into the place where Ghost’s bite broke her skin.

Her blood floods my mouth, and the world explodes, every nerve in my body surging to life. It’s rich and electric—the most wonderful thing I’ve ever consumed in my life. This is pure power, ancient and potent, singing through my veins with each desperate swallow.

She struggles beneath me, her wings beating uselessly against the snow, her hands clawing at my shoulders. But I barely feel it.

Nothing matters except the blood. The feed. The primal satisfaction of taking what I need.

More. More. MORE.

I drink deeply, the world fading away until there’s nothing but the rush of her life pouring into me.

Her struggles weaken, her pulse fluttering under my lips like a dying bird. She’s so delicious. I want—no, I need— every last drop.

But then, through the haze of bloodlust, a single word breaks through my mind.

Zoey.

This dark angel might know where the other one took her. But if I drain her dry, we lose our only lead.

I will not let lack of control over my hunger destroy our chance of finding her.

So, with every ounce of willpower I possess, I wrench myself away from her neck. My fangs retract, leaving a raw ache in their place, and I shove her limp body away from me.

Her chest still rises and falls in shallow breaths.

She’s alive.

Barely.

I stare down at her, heart pounding, head spinning as I process what I just did.

Shame rises inside me.

I don’t want to look at Riven. I can’t.

But I have to.

So, I wipe the blood off my face and turn to face him.

He’s frozen in place, his silver eyes wide with horror.

It’s like he’s seeing a stranger. A monster.

Everything we built in that cave—every tender moment, every confession, each whisper of “I love you”—crumbles in the space between us.

The world tilts under my feet. My blood turns to ice.

I’ve lost him.

Just like I’ve lost Zoey.

But no—Zoey might not be lost.

Not if we act quickly.

That’s what I need to focus on. Acting quickly.

“We need to take her back to the cave,” I say, and while I hear myself speaking, it’s like I’m looking down from above, watching someone who’s not actually me . “She might know how to find Zoey.”

Riven doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just keeps staring at me with those haunted eyes that held so much warmth a few hours ago.

“Riven.” I force steel into my voice, even as my heart shatters. “The cave. Now.”

Blood stains the snow around us—a stark reminder of what I am. What I’ll always be. The monster lurking beneath the summer fae Riven thought he loved.

“Please,” I beg. “She might know something—not just about Zoey, but maybe about the ancient woman, or the potion for your father. We have to bring her back. Tie her up. Talk to her. Force the answers from her.”

I’ll torture her if I have to.

Anything to save my best friend.

Riven studies me for a few, hard moments.

He’s going to say no. He’s going to tie me up and force answers from me as much as from her.

Slowly—hopefully too slow for him to notice—I move my hand toward my dagger.

Finally, he nods, his jaw tight. “We’ll put her on Ghost’s back, bring her to the cave, and interrogate her there,” he decides, pulling the rope out of his pack and getting to work.

He doesn’t say another word as we walk. He won’t even look at me.

Shame rises in my chest with every step. Guilt. Fear. And so many more emotions I can’t place right now, but I know will hit me like a sledgehammer when I do.

The stars are brighter now. Clearer.

But they’re far from beautiful.

Because no matter how much I gaze up at them—no matter how many answers and paths I seek from them—they’ll never guide me back to the way things were before.

Before I knew I was fae.

Before I knew I was part vampire.

Before I lost my best friend.

And before Riven knew that the girl he thought he loved was a monster.