Des’s eyes widen when he sees what I’m about to do. “Callypso, no—” I yank the blade out, gagging on the pain, the nausea, and the screams that should be rising out of me. A torrent of blood gushes out of the wound, making me sway on my feet. Some of the shadows—Des’s shadows—are receding, but a different sort of darkness tugs on the edges of my vision. Death. My mate is at my side in an instant, relinquishing his vengeance for love.
