Chapter 18

• The air, moments before alive with the desperate sounds of struggle and the guttural roars of Kael defending his mate, now hung thick and silent, heavy with an unnatural stillness. The scent of pine and dew was now overlaid with the metallic tang of blood, both hers and theirs, and an alien, cloying perfume that spoke of death and ancient dust. Tallia lay on the damp earth, her body screaming in protest, the raw pain from the wounds inflicted by the vampires a searing counterpoint to the throbbing ache in her ribs and the sting of a thousand tiny cuts from the thorns. Kael's last, furious roar still seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of her bones, a testament to his desperate fight, a fight that had ultimately been in vain.
• She had seen him, a blur of golden fur and raw power, tearing through the vampire who had her cornered. She had felt the brief, intoxicating surge of hope as he’d slammed into the brute, creating a momentary chaos that allowed her to wrench free. Lyra and her scouts, emerging like wraiths from the encroaching dawn, had added to the maelstrom, their coordinated attacks forcing the vampires into a desperate rearguard action. For a fleeting, glorious moment, she had believed they might win, that Kael's ferocity and the pack's unity would prevail.
• But then, it happened. As she scrambled towards Kael, a shadow detached itself from the periphery, moving with a speed that defied the dawn’s growing light. It was the vampire with hair like spun moonlight, her eyes like chips of obsidian, the same one whose claws had first drawn Tallia’s blood. She moved not with the brute force of the others, but with a chilling, calculated precision. Tallia, still disoriented, her senses overwhelmed by the adrenaline and the pain, saw the glint of moonlight hair, the flash of impossibly pale skin, and then a cold, unyielding force slammed into her side, knocking the wind from her lungs.