Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV Hodges, Aaron (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

But with a sigh, Adonis dismissed thought. The human could have slain him as he lay injured from Maya’s beating. He would not harm her now. He had at least that much honour. Though…

…they were close enough to the Tangatan camp that he could feel her, could sense the darkness of her Voice upon his mind, upon the minds of all who resided in the valley. Despite that dark touch—or perhaps because of it—Adonis found himself confused when his thoughts turned to Maya.

Even far from her presence, he found himself longing for her touch. The pain of her rejection, her repudiation, had not healed with his other wounds, remaining instead a gaping hole in his soul, a nightmare from which he could not wake. His vision blurred as he recalled the promises she had made him, the children she carried, the future he had envisioned at her side.

Adonis clenched his fists, his entire being trembling. If only…

An image flashed into his mind, the memory of Nyriah, of her body lying cold in the mud, her feathers twisted and broken, empty eyes staring…

Gasping, Adonis tore his gaze from the distant army and staggered back from the crest of the hill. The human made some sounds of concern, but he ignored her. How had it come to this? The great Adonis, third generation Tangata, strongest of his people, now trailed after the woman that had spurned him, yearning like a lost puppy for a second chance. Why did he want her still, when all she had ever done was cause him pain?

A shudder racked him and Adonis squeezed his eyes closed. He’d been wrong to come here, to follow. The human thought Adonis planned to help her, but…he did not have the strength for that, did he? No, he had come to hand Maisie over to his mate, to earn the Old One’s praise, to restore himself in her eyes, to…to…

“You still want her back, don’t you?” Maisie’s voice came from behind him, soft, yet firm. She snorted. “Why not, I suppose? Maybe you can present me to her on a platter, a human that has completely outlived her usefulness. I’m sure it will entirely makeup for the queen you failed to kill back on the Illmoor.”

She laughed, the sound harsh, bitter. Her eyes remained on the army and the city beyond, but as he looked in her direction, they narrowed. “Well, isn’t that something?”

Adonis followed her gaze, expecting to see some disturbance amongst the opposing armies, but there was nothing. He turned back to Maisie and raised an eyebrow in question.

“That wily bastard,” she muttered by way of reply. When Adonis only raised his other eyebrow, she sighed. “Seems you’re not the only one with an ex-lover on this battlefield. See those flags above the city gates, they say King Nguyen is in residence. The Sovereigns of Perfugia too, and…what’s this, the Calafe?” She blinked, glancing at Adonis in disbelief. “Haven’t seen that one in a long time. I wonder…”

She trailed off, still looking at Adonis, as though waiting for him to say something. He shrugged and glanced at the flags she’d indicated, but they were only flapping pieces of fabric to Adonis. Humans were so strange, the way they divided themselves, pretending that differences of geography meant something. No wonder they had warred so readily against the Tangata, when they could not even keep the peace amongst themselves.

“You know, Adonis, you’re terrible at small talk.”

Adonis glanced sharply at Maisie and the human raised an eyebrow. After a long moment, he snorted at her, a stubborn smile touching her lips. Again, he found himself wishing he could respond in her coarse language.

“It’s true, you know,” she said, smiling herself.

Retreating from the edge of the hill, Maisie seated herself on a boulder. Her face was pale and she was puffing by the time she sat. Concerned, Adonis followed her, gesturing silently to her leg.

She shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said, though her expression betrayed the lie. Reaching out with his mind, Adonis glimpsed the swirling grey-black of her agony. “It just needs to rest.”

Adonis hesitated before nodding. Dark lines of pain still radiated from the woman, mingling with her usual rainbow of fear, anger and sadness. After a long moment, he knelt beside the boulder and reached for her leg.

Maisie flinched away from him, her hand dropping to the knife she wore at her belt. He paused, looking up at her brown eyes, but did not move away. Eyes narrowed, Maisie stared back. Despite their days together and her incessant chatting, she clearly still did not trust him. That was smart, considering his earlier thoughts. But finally she seemed to relax, removing her hand from the dagger.

Adonis took that as a sign he could continue. Carefully, he lifted her calf and gently rolled up the cuffs of her pants. Her skin beneath was pale and the uneven line of her shin revealed where the bones had knitted poorly from her injury. Adonis could do nothing for that, but the muscles of her calf had locked tight, swelling as they cramped from the long journey.

Slowly, gently, he trailed his fingers along her calf, his touch turning to gentle prods, senses extending in search of knots. Maisie flinched again at his touch, her entire body taut, but this time it seemed less due to mistrust, more the pain of her injury itself. Adonis continued, taking care not to press too hard, though he did slowly increase the pressure, seeking the deeper knots, the twisted fibres that had built through the long weeks of disuse.

Seated on her boulder, Maisie gritted her teeth against the pain but did not try to stop him, nor reach again for her knife. Instead, she turned her to gaze again to the city.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” she whispered.

Adonis paused, but when he looked at her, he realised she wasn’t talking about him. He frowned, then decided she was just trying to distract herself from the