Something icy and sharp pressed against her throat. A cool male voice spoke above her, behind her, in a language she did not recognize. But the curt words and tone were clear enough: Don’t fucking move. Bryce lifted her hands and reached for her power. Only splintered shards remained. The male voice demanded something in that strange language, and Bryce stayed on her knees. He hissed, and then a strong hand clamped on her shoulder, hauling her up and twisting her to face him. She glimpsed black boots. Dark, scalelike armor over a tall, muscled body. Wings. Great, black wings. A demon’s wings.
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