Page 406 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“What are you going to do?” My voice was quiet, but not weak. Somewhere within it, I could hear the demand of a Priestess.

“What I have to.”

Alvara pressed a kiss to Aren’s forehead and rose in one smooth motion. She honored her Commander with the Grayshell salute, then turned to face whatever monsters still lurked behind us.

I hated her for the finality in that gesture—for the way it felt like goodbye. But I didn’t look. I couldn’t. Not at what the Angel of Death was about to face.

My breath came in short, heated pants, but I barely noticed. My concern wasn’t my body.

It was his.

It was the way Aren’s ribs rose and fell—too fast. The way those shallow, panicked breaths turned terrifyingly thin. His pulse, already weak, began to falter beneath my hands. My magic was still working, still pouring through his veins, but the damage…

The bluish tinge on his lips. The wan pallor of his skin.

My hands went clammy as death turned toward us. As that cold, hollow shadow—my lifelong warning, my constant companion—neared.

“No.” It was barely a whisper, ragged and raw. I shoved more energy into him, desperate. But my magic recoiled. Too late. The shield rippled around us, trembling as if it too knew what approached. Not even his angel could hold Death at bay.

He didn’t care for the bodies Alvara had thrown to the earth. Didn’t notice the thousands of mortals laid out like offerings.

No. Death had come for the one soul who’d evaded him for over a millennium. And he would not be denied.

The hair at the nape of my neck rose, reaching skyward. Gooseflesh raced down the blood-slick skin of my arms. I couldn’t tell if it was my heartbeat or Aren’s pounding in my ears.

“You can’t have him,” I hissed through my teeth. “You can’t have him. He’s mine.”

But Death didn’t turn away. He lingered behind me, his chill brushing against my back like a hand made of frost and ash. There was an eagerness to him this time—an anticipation.

He had waited too long for the man who’d sent him so many.

All debts must be paid. That voice was a blade across my spine. The last time I heard it, it had nearly broken me.

“Haven’t you had enough?!” I screamed. Shadows spun around my hands and surged outward, wrapping Aren in coils of mist like they could hide him. Like I could protect him by sheer will.

But his heart⁠—

Gods, his heart was still slowing. His blood pressure was crashing.

Too late, my magic screamed. Too late.

Tears streamed down my cheeks and splashed onto Aren’s chest. My palms still glowed, still worked, still healed. But it wasn’t enough.

“Please.”

I didn’t know who I was begging anymore. The world shook beneath us. The battle still raged beyond Alvara’s shield, but it all sounded so far away now. Distant. Irrelevant.

All that mattered was this:

I loved him.

“Aren!” My voice broke, wild and cracking. “Please, baby, please. I love you! Don’t you do this. Don’t you leave me. Not like this!”

An icy hand closed around my shoulder, and I sobbed.

“Aren! Come back here, gods damn it. Please!”

I’m sorry, little witch, Death said. His voice was one and many. Ancient. Haunted.