I shake my head. “Why are you like this? I’ve done nothing but try to please you since I was a child. All you’ve done is take. You tried to rob me of a relationship with my sister. You stole my magic.” That has my mother shifting in her seat, and wary glances are thrown around the room. “The funny thing is, if you had been kind to me, I probably still would have forgiven you. Loved you.”
“As if I could ever love a pathetic disappointment like you.” My mother’s face is pale as she spits out the words. As much as I don’t want them to hurt, they still sting like barbs piercing my skin.
“You’re the disappointment,” Penelope cries out, and my heart breaks for my little sister. My mother never even looks over at her.
“Whatever delusions you’ve been feeding yourself are done. The Blackthorn boy is using you. You are just a plaything. Even in this family, you’re no more important than a simple tool. And now it’s time we put you to use.” My mother stands, her voice eerily calm as she steps down from the platform, slowly walking toward me. Camille is on her right and my father joins on the left. He waves a hand, throwing up a wall of magic to keep Penelope trapped against the wall.
“You cocksucker,” she yells, and I almost laugh. Even though I’m fucking terrified.
Sweat breaks out over my skin. I know they’re going to put their hands on me. They don’t need any other weapons to punish me.
“Strip,” my mother barks out the command. I glare at her, never once lowering my gaze.
“That’s kind of hard to do when my hands are tied, Mother.”
She waves to Camille, who slides in behind me. Her fingers work at the rope around my wrists, fumbling at the knot. Her hands brush against my bare skin over and over.
Her skin against mine.
My head jerks, and I gasp in a breath. My mother smiles, as if this is just a taste of what’s to come. Except there’s no pain. Camille’s touch isn’t hurting me. A thought strikes me like a bolt of lightning. It didn’t hurt when Tucker pulled me out of the car earlier. I was too distracted to notice.
How is this possible?
43
ROMAN
Anastasia crawls back onto the bed. Regardless of my denials, she still thinks she can seduce me. She looks like a wraith, her pale body covered in smears of blood.
“It’s a lost cause.”
“What is?” She pushes aside the fabric of my shirt.
“This seduction. My heart belongs to someone else.” As soon as I say the words, a glow flares up in my left hand, and warmth flows down my arm like liquid. It pools in my heart with my dark magic, and nothing has ever felt so right.
“Impossible,” Anastasia hisses, raking her nails across my ribs and leaving four scratches in their wake.
I tug at the ties around my wrists once again, nearly grunting when it gives, and my palm slides free. The pain of the rough rope abrades my skin and stops me dead in my tracks. My wrists throb where the rope cut into them.
“Oh, poor baby. Don’t like to have your perfect skin marked? I’ll kiss it better.” Anastasia leans down to put her mouth on my body. Leaving the questions about my curse for later, I snatch my wrist from the rope and wrap it around her throat. My magicgoes to work immediately, tugging at her soul and bringing it under my control.
“You may have some pathetic amount of persuasion magic, but I can control your very life force.” My voice is menacing.
She gapes at me, her lips gulping for air like a fish.
“You’re going to stop touching me and go sit in that chair.” I squeeze her soul, and she cries out. I’ve never experienced the pain of it before, but I’ve been told it feels like someone is crushing your organs from the inside of your body.
Anastasia rolls off the bed and falls to the floor. My magic is connected to her soul now, and I don’t need to have physical contact to continue controlling it. With one flick of my hand, I could rip the filthy essence out of her body and leave her a vacant heap forever. She scampers over to the chair in the corner, only this time, there’s no seduction in the move. There’s only the desperation to obey and to get away from me that drives her.
I free my other hand from the rope, rubbing at the sore spots on my wrists and wincing at the pain. What the fuck. There’s a black mark on my ring finger. I lift my hand to inspect it. Two intertwined vines slowly creep across my finger like ink being laid on a page. They form a ring. My chest fills with warmth when I look at the mark. Briar and Tristan had similar marks in the illusion Ambrose created. It’s a fucking fated bond.
A stab of anxiety rushes through me. Where is Josephine? A sense of urgency to get back to her overrides all other emotions. Jo is in trouble. The knowledge hits me like a premonition, which is not magic I have. The door splinters open. I spin around, ready to fight. My hands fly up, fire on the tips of my fingers.
“Roman,” Bram shouts as the destroyed door bangs against the wall. Bursting into the room, his magic pours out of him like a physical shadow, cloaking the space in a blanket of darkness.He begins pulling it back a moment later, getting himself under control.
“Fuck. Bram. What are you doing here?” The last I saw him, he was at his burning house.
“We came to save you.” Ava pushes past my brother and eyes my half-dressed state and a naked Anastasia in the corner of the room. “From yourself, apparently.” This last bit is said with a lot less enthusiasm. Bram’s shadows have all but retreated, leaving shredded bedding and drapes in their wake. Ava curses under her breath.
