Chapter 125
When the morning stars sang
And all the sons of God shouted for joy
.
—Job 38:7
.
GITA
Gita leaped in front of the old, grey general.
"Stop!" She held up her hand. "If you need to kill anybody, kill me."
Blood splattered onto her cheek as the blade swung, precariously close to her neck. Gita trembled as she stared into HIS pitiless black eyes, the high cheekbones, the beautiful six-horned head, and the deadly, bat-like wings which rustled like a pair of swords.
"Please," she whispered. "She's his wife. Do not make him destroy his heart and soul."
He-who's-not-Mikhail forced HIS vessel to raise the sword again. HIS voice reverberated, deep and terrifying.
"She is not his mate. Because of her, I almost lost my vessel to the wound."
"She was pregnant," Gita said. "Fri
