Shards: Book One of the Anderian Series

Chapter 32: The Only Way

"Kohl?" Bellamy gasped. Her hands had been pressed against her lower stomach, but now they fluttered upward, covering her mouth and leaving traces of purple ink on her face. Tears turned her eyes glossy, and with a sniffle, she threw herself at him.

He gathered her against his chest, hoping she took the pounding of his heart for exertion and not nerves. Gods, the woman smelled good even with sweat slicking her skin, and though they did not have time to waste, he buried his nose into the dark curls, inhaling deeply and imprinting the floral notes of her scent into his memory. Then another smell made its way to him, rekindling the fury that had set him ablaze earlier and reminding him why he was here.

"You were with him again," he snarled. He held her out at arm's length and glared. "You are mine."

Bellamy's gaze hardened, and she wriggled free. "I belong to myself."

With a growl, he released his hold on his wings, stretching them wide to intimidate as he stepped into her personal space. "That is not what you told me when I was between your legs last night. Do you know what they call women like you? Whores."

His jaw cracked as her fist connected. "You're being hurtful because you're upset, so I'm going to let that slide."

"Upset?" He roared. "Upset that my mate continues to lie with another male? I have every right. By the gods... in some cultures, what you're doing is punishable by death."

She gripped the back of her neck and closed her eyes. "I told you when we first felt the completion that it did not erase the love I have for Cian. That it would take time, and you agreed it was for the best right now. Because we needed him on our side to get back home."

Kohl paced. Dried twigs and leaves crunched beneath his boots, and his breath escaped in silver tendrils of fog that drifted up toward the stars. Stars that burned far less bright than the ones in Anderie. He'd never considered himself a poet, but being trapped in this godforsaken world the people here called earth had made him realize how beautiful his home world was. For many years, he told himself he could grow used to the dull colors and pale landscapes, but within a century, he felt what the rest of his people felt—regardless of race. This world was sapping them of their power and life force.

Which is why he was in this forest in the middle of the night. Standing before the woman the gods had created just for him, debating whether he could go through with his mission. As much as his soul hungered for her, his head wouldn't believe she didn't mean them all harm. She was practically a goddess. Why would she turn against her kind to be with someone like him? Like Cian? Fynn's explanation made the most sense. She'd debased herself as part of a bigger plan to weaken them before she returned them to Anderie. She'd even admitted she and her mother were not as affected by the weakening as the others.

This was the only way.

"Kohl. We have to go. Rilem lured me to that party so he could stop me from opening another portal, and he sent others after me. Cian—" she swallowed when he flinched, but she pressed on, "Cian is waiting in the cove with a ship. The people who want to go home are there. We're going to return to Isla de Faele. It's the only place I'm still strong enough to open a portal now."

"No."

Bellamy's straight brows wrinkled. "What?"

He put one hand on the hilt of his sword, and the other he put at the base of her spine, dragging her toward him. This was where he was supposed to tell her that Cian had been caught at the party. They'd found him in the bedroom, his face still damp from feasting on Bellamy. Once they had been brothers, fighting alongside one another for freedom. Now, Kohl could not wait until he could drive his fists through Cian's bones—again and again.

They knew she would not leave him behind. Kohl, as much as it pained him to admit it, told the Synod as much when they discovered the mate bond between him and Bellamy. It was supposed to be simple. Convince her to surrender to protect Cian. Her powers would be bound, and they would remain in this world until they could figure out how to get back home and win the war.

But with her warm flesh pressed against his body, her hands running along his shoulders as he claimed her lips with his, he knew it wouldn't work. She would hate him. She would give herself to Cian again and again. To punish him.

There was only one way. He felt her gasp against his lips when his blade slid into her stomach. Not breaking the kiss, he twisted the sword, sucking blood from her tongue as her knees gave out.

"W-why?" she demanded, panting and pounding her fists against his chest. Kohl heard the anger. His mate didn't sound defeated because she believed herself to be incapable of death, but the Synod had spelled his blade for this very purpose. Their backup plan. And between one heartbeat and the next, Bellamy's expression morphed to horror.

"I'm sorry. It will not be forever."

"H-how could you?"

"I could ask you the same," he hissed, ripping his sword free when the transfer was complete. Her soul made the blade shine bright. As bright as the Andarien stars.

He did not look at the lifeless shell on the ground when he walked away.