Breath of Fire by Liliana Hart Page A

pulled them aside. Grey, watery morning light barely penetrated the gloom of the study. It wasn’t a room I spent a lot of time in, being much more suited to Alasdair’s tastes than mine—the furniture was large and ornate, the fabrics lush and expensive, the paintings fussy. A stone fireplace dominated one entire wall. There were no family heirlooms or mementos. Alasdair didn’t believe in them.
    In addition to the bloodshed that had happened between Alasdair and Calista, there had also been futures predicted. She’d scared the hell out of Alasdair with her visions, even though he would never admit it, and he’d wounded her badly in retaliation. I knew her coming here meant circumstances were dire. And despite her proclamation of only caring about her hoard, she must still feel some loyalty to her clan or she wouldn’t be here. I took a calming breath and prayed to the gods for patience.
    Tension was high—mine and Calista’s—with the promise of Alasdair’s arrival. Awareness suddenly filled my body, and the fine hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end. The fire in the hearth disappeared to red embers, and the chill in the room was immediate. Alasdair always did like to make an entrance.
    “Show yourself, Alasdair,” I called out.
    He appeared in the chair across from Calista. His legs were crossed and a tumbler of whiskey was held loosely in his hand—a man who looked to the world as if he didn’t have a care. His expression was pleasant unless you looked in his eyes—they were red-rimmed, his fire smoldering just behind them—a sure sign of his anger. And then he looked at me, and I knew I’d be lucky to leave the room in one piece.
    Erik came into the room the normal way and bowed over Calista’s hand before taking his place beside me at the hearth. He put himself between me and Alasdair and squeezed my hand in silent apology for his earlier behavior.
    My father was a handsome man. To humans who could only see the surface he appeared to be in his early forties. His hair was jet black and silvered at the temples. His body was lean and muscled, and his eyes like grey storm clouds—so much like mine it sometimes hurt to look at them. He never wanted for the attention of women, but despite the many who’d shared his bed, Erik and I were his only offspring.
    “Why have you darkened my door, Calista?” he asked. “Shall I punish you for returning to my home at the same time I punish Rena for freeing my potential mate? I’ve always enjoyed spilling your blood, though not as much as I enjoy spilling Rena’s.”
    I felt a hot breeze pass in front of my body and a quick slash of pain. The left sleeve of my shirt was in tatters and blood splattered steadily to the floor. Speed was one of Alasdair’s gifts. He was impossible to visually track, and it was why no one had ever been able to defeat him in a duel. I could tell from the bloodlust in his eyes that he was toying with me.
    Calista ignored his taunt and licked her lips at the blood that pooled at my feet. My expression stayed blank, and I didn’t move a muscle, not wanting to tempt the beasts in the room by showing weakness.
    Alasdair stood against the far wall, his posture relaxed and his gaze taunting. His hand had transformed into sharp talons, and my blood coated the knifelike claws. The hot breeze passed by me again, and I couldn’t help the growl of pain that escaped from my lips. I looked down my body and saw the damage to my thigh. The skin hung in tatters, and the sheen of bone glimmered white between the pink of useless muscles.
    “Leave her be for now, Alasdair,” Calista commanded. “There is time for play later. I am here for a purpose.”
    Alasdair didn’t take his eyes off me. “We are not finished, Rena. You will pay for what you’ve done. And don’t think to try to escape my wrath. I will just hunt you down, though the chase does make things more interesting.” He moved in the blink of an eye and sat back across from