Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

There was the smallest intake of breath from one or two people in the room, and Siraay might have been amused at the reaction if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

Atalia, in her ignorance of just how serious her situation was, leaned back in her seat across from Siraay, and said, ‘You don’t deserve to be here. A jumped-up Resistance soldier is all you are. You should be down with the other walking fodder, obeying us. Instead, you’ve managed to claw your way up here where you don’t belong.’ The head tactician stood. ‘Why don’t you just admit that you’re not the one the prophecy mentions? That it’s all been a big coincidence and that there’s nothing special about you at all?’

Siraay smiled. Even now, Wexner and Zale would be dispensing with Atalia’s own circle of servants and followers—or at least the ones who had had knowledge of the murderous plot. Siraay dipped a finger into her untouched drink, pulling it out and letting a drop dangle from the claw that had formed at the tip of her finger.

It was an excellent demonstration of her control over her forms and her ability to Change, and Atalia paled once more at the less-than-subtle threat.

‘Claw my way up, you say?’ commented Siraay pleasantly. ‘What an excellent description, although you seem to have some aversion to that fact. That I have fought, and shed my blood, time and again, to be right where I am now. But rather than face me directly, you tried to poison me. Are you that afraid of me, Atalia, or is that you are just too weak?’

Her words had the desired effect.

‘I’ll show you who’s weak,’ Atalia muttered, the words spoken so quickly that the threat was made and the female was moving before anyone else besides Siraay had registered was what was about to happen.

Sweeping up a knife in one hand as she stood, Atalia hitched up the length of her green dress in one hand and launched herself across the top of the table, her other hand extended for Siraay’s neck, the knife’s blade aimed downwards.

But Siraay had dropped her glass onto the table and, kicking her chair backwards and away from her, was already bending away, her spine arching gracefully as her hands touched the stone floor behind her.

And Atalia sailed through the now-empty space where Siraay had just been.

But as swiftly as Siraay had moved, she still felt the knife slice through the flesh of her right shoulder, the tip dragging upwards in a shallower slice as Siraay’s body folded still lower.

But as soon as Atalia’s momentum had carried her beyond the table, Siraay twisted, paying no mind to the pain searing through her shoulder as she Changed.

Archon Atalia hit the floor and rolled, preparing to engage with Siraay once more.

But Siraay had already leapt, fury incarnate in her sevonix form, and her teeth ripped viciously through Atalia’s throat before the female had even registered the attack.

The head tactician’s body dropped to the ground, and silence fell as Siraay Changed back.

The kill had been swift, with no energy wasted.

Siraay turned slowly to face the rest of the room, everyone but Pyron and Chezran still seated. Feeling warm blood drip down her chin and onto the bare expanse of skin between the straps of her dress, Siraay strode back to the table and picked up a napkin. Then she dabbed delicately at her mouth and chin, the white cloth quickly staining red.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

THE SILENCE IN the dining hall held for a just a moment longer, before—

‘Everybody, out! Now!’ Chezran’s words were a roar, a wild growl sitting just under his words, and it was his tone that sent the archons and captains scrambling from the room.

A moment later, the doors closed, and Siraay was alone in that large space with the Lord of Xarcon—and the body of her former rival.

Although neither of them spoke, the silence between them was charged, and Siraay could feel her heart pounding, adrenaline still coursing through her.

She knew she was bleeding, the cloth over the injured shoulder almost torn completely away, and one leg nearly wholly exposed up to her hip, from where the lining in that section had split.

Yet all this Siraay barely registered, caught up as she was in the dark eyes across from her.

Eyes that were larger than they should have been, a feral glint illuminating them.

‘I want you,’ Chezran growled out at her.

He held himself tensely, and Siraay could see that he was poised like an animal, ready to spring.

But she, still riding that wave of battle lust, had just defeated a rival, and wasn’t ready to comply with anyone’s demands, even if another type of lust was beginning to rise within her.

This resistance was the sevonix within—a lone creature that did what it wanted, when it wanted. An apex predator that only grew fiercer when it was backed into a corner, or forced to do something it didn’t feel like doing. Wild, untamed—this was what writhed beneath Siraay’s skin. She wanted to run, fight, be out in the dark, rocky Xarcon mountains, roaring her victory.

So she smirked at Chezran … and turned away.

Or tried to. He was on her so quickly she didn’t have time to register the sound of his steps, or his increased breathing rate, before her body was being whipped back around and he was forcing his lips onto hers, the pressure almost painful.

Siraay’s anger rose so swiftly it was like a fire being fed with pure energy, the heat of which gave her injured body the strength to shove this impertinent male clear away from her.

Chezran’s face—which now had a smear of blood on it from Siraay’s face—registered surprise and shock, but the fire within Siraay was all-consuming, and she Changed in that instant into a rippling mass of muscle and gleaming silver-black fur, her ears flat against her head, her sharp teeth exposed while her growl echoed off the high ceilings of the chamber.

She had Changed so swiftly