Hurry, to your left, the wind hissed.
He slammed his stake down, and it sank into flesh. The vampire cried out, grabbing his shoulder and wrenching it back.
White-hot pain flashed through Nikhail, and he roared. Withdrawing the stake, he twisted, trying to shake the creature of the night free.
The vampire laughed, the sound all cruelty and hatred and anger. Horror stories told around campfires held more warmth than the vampire’s mirth. They stole the stake from Nikhail’s grip and threw it away. It landed with a clatter.
A snarl filled the air. Fangs brushedagainst Nikhail’s neck.
Time slowed as fear as cold as an arctic gale swept through him. Even the wind’s comforting whisper seemed far away.
The vampire’s fangs pressed against his throat. Seeking. Taunting. Preparing to kill.
No.
No, no, fuckingno.
He couldn’t die now. Not while on a mission, not without spending more time with River. For fuck’s sake, he hadn’t even made her his yet. This could not be how it all ended.
“I’ve never tasted an air fae,” the vampire hissed, twisting Nikhail’s arm until it popped out of its socket. Fire raced through him, but he bit his tongue, refusing to let the vampire hear his pain. “Ithiar has sent us three delicious gifts.”
The vampire dragged Nikhail back, their fangs still pressed against his neck. He struggled to free himself, kicking and punching and doing everything he could to get away.
Isobel and Jayson were shouting nearby, the fight still underway in the darkness.
Nikhail needed to get free and help them, but creatures of the night were considered one of the most powerful in the Republic for a reason.
No matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. As if proving that point, the vampire released their fangs long enough to slam Nikhail into the ground with all their strength.
Fire ran up his injured arm. Burning, burning, burning.
This time, he couldn’t hold back his scream. He reached for his magic, but it was muted beneath the flare of pain.
The vampire leaped on top of him, straddling his chest and arms, pinning them at his side.
Move! the wind screamed.
But try as he might, Nikhail couldn’t obey. The vampire was immovable, their weight infused with strength that camefrom their gods. No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t shake them free.
This could not be happening. This could not be how his life ended.
Even though the darkness was absolute, Nikhail could feel the vampire staring at him. Deciding where to bite him.
Oh, gods.
Nikhail had never been one to spend hours in worship. After his father left, he’d been too busy taking care of his mother and sisters to spend much time thinking about the deities. As an adult, he’d found much better use of his time doing work that actually mattered.
But as he lay there, with the vampire’s cold breath fanning across his cheek, Nikhail called out to the old fae gods—the ones that River worshipped.
He didn’t plead for his life, didn’t ask them to save him.
Instead, he begged them to look after River. Asked them to look after her and be there for her after he died.
The vampire gripped his head painfully, forcing his neck to the side and exposing his tendons to the cold air.
Death drew near, brushing its arms against Nikhail. He refused to go willingly. Not now. Not when it meant giving River up.
“No,” he growled, fighting back with renewed passion. He used every bit of strength he possessed, bucking against the vampire, trying to move his good arm.