Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,26

weren’t vibrating out of his skin in anticipation of feeling his wings explode from his back. Of feeling power flood him once more. Yes, it was going to be dark energy, but after going without that unique ecstasy for so long, he was eager to experience any kind of power again.

Would it be different than the sensation of letting in Heavenly power? Would it be as addictive?

Lyre slid the blade from the sheath at her hip. “Are you ready?”

He opened his mouth to say yes, but his anticipation suddenly mixed with doubt. This would be the first step toward acceptance of his new life as a fallen angel. There would be no going back once he opened the floodgates to the evil that surrounded him.

But what choice did he have? Without the wings, he was powerless here, and he needed every advantage he could get to escape Bael’s clutches.

“Cipher?” Lyre’s hand came down lightly on the small of his back, and he jerked out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he said roughly. He needed to do this, but he swore he’d do whatever it took to keep evil from consuming him completely. “But what’s to keep me from flashing out of Bael’s territory and escaping?”

“The same thing that happens to all Unfallen brought here against their will.” Pity turned the silver in her eyes liquid, like a spoon full of water, and he knew he wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say. “Bael had an Orphmage curse your wings with a tethering spell. You can’t leave his realm until he trusts you and the curse is lifted.”

Well, shit. That trashed his immediate plans for escape. But he wasn’t going to give up. If he could get a message to Hawkyn, he could warn him about the list Cipher had given to Bael, and his friends could find a way to get him out of here.

He peeled off his T-shirt and bared his back to Lyre. “Do it.”

He felt a whisper of air as Lyre brought the knife up to the twin scars near his shoulder blades, the wing anchors from which his new flappers would emerge. The blade’s cold tip sliced into his skin, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. Lyre made two cuts and worked quickly, severing the binding twine that had kept his wings imprisoned.

“Done.”

She hadn’t needed to tell him that.

Every cell in his body sang with power, as if he’d just been plugged in to Sheoul’s main battery. Pleasure-pain tore through his back and shoulders as pale gray, bat-like wings erupted in a violent spray of blood-red gelatinous membrane.

Nasty.

That was not how his lemon-tipped white Heavenly wings had popped out the first time.

He didn’t have a chance to ponder more. An ice cold stream of energy shot down his arm and blasted from his fingertips, launching him backward in a tumble of dust and flapping, leathery wings.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh, wow!” Sheathing her dagger, Lyre jogged toward him. “That was dissolving ice. Look.”

A column of ice had encased one of the tentacle shrubs, freezing it solid. But as they watched, it melted rapidly, turning the plant to liquid as it went. Within moments, there was nothing but a puddle where the shrub had been.

The other shrubs were frozen too, but not in ice. In fear.

That was pretty badass.

“I told you this could be chaotic—”

He threw out a hand to warn Lyre off. His control sucked, which he proved as a fireball shot at her from the palm of his hand.

Fire engulfed her, demon-faced flames that laughed and bit at her. No! Oh, shit. He felt her screams all the way to his gut as she fell to the ground and writhed in violent agony.

“Soretay! Stop!” He yelled commands in Sheoulic as he rushed toward her, but his words were useless.

He dove on top of her, covering her with his body. He tried to wrap his ugly-ass wings around her, but the fuckers didn’t behave, instead fanning the flames, beating the both of them as they flapped uselessly.

Then, for no reason he could figure out, the shrieking apparitions flickered out. Lyre went limp beneath him, her exhausted, panting breaths puffing hot air against his neck.

“Wow,” she rasped. “That was unexpected.”

He pushed himself up on one arm and looked down at her. Scorch marks streaked her face and her clothes were singed. The hemline of her shirt was completely gone, leaving her flat belly exposed, a smudge of soot forming a crescent under her navel.

He wanted to clean