Etched in Bone by Adrian Phoenix Read Free Book Online Page B

slipped a shiv between Dante’s ribs. With all the wybrcathl and noise bouncing around in his head, he couldn’t hear Lucien’s heart, couldn’t tell whether it still beat or not.
    Before our bond was severed, I woulda known without hearing . . .
    Dante shoved the thought away, not wanting to be drawn to the dark, empty spot in his mind where Lucien’s steadying presence had once dwelt.
    Lucien’s waist-length black hair streamed past his bowed head and seemed to merge with the black kilt belted at his hips. Even though Gabriel had undone the spell that he’d laid upon Lucien—at Dante’s terse insistence—a spell that had bound Lucien’s fate to that of a dying land, his father’s strength and vitality hadn’t yet been restored. His skin was too pale, almost translucent.
    A pang of guilt pierced Dante. My fault. I shoved him away.
    The Morningstar’s wings swooshed behind Dante in a steady, measured rhythm as he wrapped both arms around Dante’s waist and held him securely. Sliding his arm free of the fallen angel’s neck, Dante leaned forward and pressed a trembling hand against Lucien’s bare and blood-sticky chest above his heart.
    The warmth radiating into Dante’s palm did little to reassure him, since he couldn’t be sure if it was Lucien’s own or heat soaked up from the coals below.
    Dante arrowed a wished-hard thought out into the night, seeking the dead.
    Keep him breathing, ma mère, s’il te plaît. Keep his heart beating.
    A moment later, Dante felt a slow, hard beat thump beneath his palm. He closed his eyes, exhaling in relief. “Merci beau-coup,” he whispered.
    Opening his eyes, Dante pushed Lucien’s hair back from his face, and another sharp pang pierced him. The skin beneath Lucien’s closed eyes looked bruised, the smudges of darkness stark against his pallor. And the hooks . . .
    Dante-angel?
    Chloe’s soft voice whispered up from the depths within, and the pit tilted abruptly. Dante felt his world shifting, sliding, fracturing. Panic trickled like ice water along his spine as he fought to remain in the present, but another world whirled into view—a world composed of a white padded room, a steel hook bolted into the ceiling.
    Ready for business.
    Dante shuddered, pain spasming in his back, spiking his temples. A hook-shaped uneasiness fueled his racing pulse.
    Not fucking now. Keep your shit together.
    Squeezing his eyes shut, he focused on the image of Lucien’s bowed head, his too-pale face, and shoved the white room with its steel hook down below. Reality steadied. The past receded, a dark and restless sea—a sea Dante wasn’t sure he could hold back a second time.
    < Baptiste? >
    < Still here, chérie.> He opened his eyes, and relief butter-flied through him when he saw only one image—Lucien’s face. < Let’s get this done, yeah? >
    A chalkydri flitted near, its rows of delicate, gold-edged wings a blur. Dante reached out and nabbed its thick, twisting tail. It squawked in panic, its talons popping out from its paws like a startled cat’s, then it fell silent. It regarded Dante with large golden eyes.
    Dante tugged it closer. Its black-scaled skin felt as smooth as velvet under his fingers. “I want you to release him.” He nodded at Lucien. “Get him off these fucking hooks and free his wings.” He then pointed in the violet-eyed chick’s— Hekate’s —direction. “Her too. Tout de suite . You can do all that, yeah?”
    The chalkydri bobbed its feathered head and chittered in rapid, high-pitched tones, an aural hummingbird. Dante frowned. He’d almost understood the little demon-thing, or thought he had, anyway. It sounded like it’d said something along the lines of, Welcome, welcome, please don’t unmake me.
    Dante shook his head. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I ain’t got a problem with y’all.” He released the chalkydri ’s muscular tail, then tossed a glance over his shoulder at the Morning-star, who arched a white brow. “Just