Chapter 37 · Throne of Ashes

"Get your hands off me!" Sloane screamed, though she was the one clinging to his chest like a lifeline.

Kaelen didn't let go. He slammed her back against the jagged remains of the obsidian altar, the impact rattling her teeth. The air around them was thick with the smell of ozone and scorched earth. Above, the sky was bleeding—literally. Great streaks of crimson mana tore through the clouds, raining down like liquid fire.

"You're shaking," Kaelen whispered. His voice wasn't the obedient drone of the vessel she'd built. It was deep, jagged, and sounded far too much like the god he was supposed to be. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, his chest heaving. "Tell me to stop, Sloane. Tell me you want me to go back into the void, and I'll do it. Right now."

Sloane glared up at him, her eyes stinging from the ash falling like snow. She tried to push him away, but her palms only slid against the damp fabric of his tunic. "I didn't... I didn't make you to be a martyr. I made you to survive."

"Survive what?" Kaelen's grip tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him.