Chapter 33 #2
“Take them from my flesh,” he asked, a hint of pain and wounds unhealed to his tone that made my gut clench. I swear I could feel the agony of those tattoos being driven into his skin as if I’d been the one to suffer them myself.
“Yes, Master,” I replied breathily, and his pupils dilated as his gaze remained fixed to mine.
I called on the magic in me to do as he asked, a rush of power cascading through my veins as it built in the air all around us and gusted through the room on an invisible wind.
It tossed my hair around my shoulders and made the air seem to crackle as my nails bit into the table and I fought to hold myself there.
Master leaned back in his chair, looking down at his bare arms as if he could feel my power running into his flesh, but as I looked to the tattoos marking his skin, I frowned, finding them still there, the darkness of the ink seeming to thicken as I tried to force it from his body, impossibly fighting my power and refusing to do as I bid.
I began to glow as I drew on the well of magic inside me, trying to make it do as I commanded, and Master was forced to shield his eyes as I fought against whatever force was blocking my power from fulfilling his wish.
The light emanating from my skin burst from me in an explosion of power, and it felt like I combusted with the force of it as it ripped my hair around me in a maelstrom and set the windchimes hanging beyond the window rattling wildly.
The glasses on the table shattered and cutlery was knocked to clatter against the tiles before the magic flared out and died down as quickly as it had arrived.
I was thrown flat on my back in the centre of the table among the shattered glass, feeling the slice of it piercing my skin as my chest rose and fell frantically, the impossible pressing down on me as I realised what I had done.
I’d failed him. My one and only purpose was to make all of his commands come to pass, and yet something had blocked the magnitude of my power and refused to allow me to fulfil his wish.
“I’m sorry,” I panted, pushing onto my elbows as I looked at him once more, backing up with fear stabbing into my heart, the enormity of my failure threatening to consume me.
I scrambled away across the table, not caring that it only made more glass cut into me and sent more of it crashing to the floor.
He’s going to send us back into the coin.
I shook my head vehemently as the glow of my magic finally died down entirely and Drake was revealed beyond it, his gaze dropping to the tattoos still marking his body and a frown tugging at his strong brow.
“I can’t remove it. There’s old magic in them,” I explained in a rush. “Something more powerful than me. I don’t know what it is, but it goes beyond the depths of my power.”
Drake pushed to his feet suddenly, the legs of his chair scraping across the tiles, and I almost fell from the table as I braced for his anger.
I winced as fury flashed across his features and I scrambled backwards, brushing against his wine glass which had been the only one remaining after my outpour of magic and knocking it over as I went, the spill of deep red liquid like blood across the wooden floor.
He’s going to beat you or whip you or banish you forever.
Drake’s hand clenched into a fist which slammed down on the table beside me with such force that the entire thing trembled beneath me. He bellowed in frustration, and I whimpered in panic, flinching away and cowering before him as I waited for the next blow to fall against my flesh.
This wasn’t how I’d wanted to feel his touch for the first time, but I’d take it if it was what he needed. I’d accept any and every punishment he inflicted upon me for failing him just so long as he didn’t banish me to the coin again.
“I can take it,” I murmured, my eyes scrunched shut as I waited for that blow to fall, and I curled in on myself in anticipation. “All of it. Any of it. So long as I don’t have to go back to the coin.”
“You think I’m angry with you?” he bit out and his voice sounded so close to me that I couldn’t help but crack my eyes open to look at him.
I found him leaning over me, his hands pressed flat to the table either side of me, the space between us infinitesimal.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed again, wondering how many times I might need to apologise for this failure.
“It’s not you, Kyra,” he said, all gravel in his tone and savagery in his obsidian eyes. “It’s that fucking priest, still haunting me from beyond the grave. I should have known better than to hope for the stain of his touch on my skin to be washed off so easily.”
“I could try again?” I offered, still trembling beneath him as I tried to come to terms with the idea that he wasn’t going to beat me.
“No,” he grunted, a firm shake of his head dispelling that suggestion. “I might not like his mark remaining on me, but the ink on my skin has never been the real issue anyway.”
“What’s the real issue?” I whispered, my gaze roaming over his broad shoulders as he remained there, penning me in and holding me captive with the cage of his body over mine. Yet still he didn’t touch me, and I didn’t touch him.
“The mark he left in here,” he replied bitterly, pressing two fingers to his temple before pushing off of the table and stalking away from me, leaving me lying there untouched and aching for his return.
“So you’re not angry with me?” I called after him as he took a bottle of wine from the table and stalked towards his room.
“Not you, little goddess,” he replied without looking back. “Never with you.”
I bit down on my lip as the door to his chamber closed between us and I felt the rampant pace of my pulse slowly quieting.
“What now?” I breathed to the silence that fell in the wake of his departure.
Now you thank the gods that he didn’t strike you, and work harder not to fail him again.