39. Chapter 39
Chapter 39
K iran performed the next phase of bleeding efficiently. Cutting into her flesh, a line appeared between his eyes as he trailed the various scars lining her legs. They bothered him. He tried to hide it, but it flashed in his expression.
Let him be disgusted. Despite the sting of his words earlier, Imani wasn’t ashamed of doing what she had to do to survive. If it made her a whore, so be it.
She curled her lip in a sneer. “Don’t act like your body is as clean as a newborn babe. We both know yours is even worse than mine.”
He glanced up at her, unreadable, but didn’t reply.
Heating the first layer of blood with his hand, it smoked. Breathing it in, the spell produced a peppery smell and humid heat, preceding intense magic.
They were close to being ready to perform the binding. It was hard to say how Imani understood through her dizzy head, but a sliver of fear rushed down her spine.
She blinked.
Magic exploded into the room.
Not nascent or atrophic, this magic was something else entirely. Primordial and otherworldly, it caused her heart to pound in her ears. An unbridled ferocity from Kiran’s signature called to every piece of her existence, throwing her over the edge of awareness.
Against her will, Imani’s magic came to the surface. The rush was so powerful it knocked the wind out of her. She sank to her knees, too weak to stand anymore.
Kiran dropped down next to her and handed over the cup of their blood for her to drink. Lifting the cup to his mouth, he motioned for her to do the same. She quickly tipped all the liquid into her mouth, and it fell to the back of her throat. She swallowed the thick, warm substance. It burned like fire all the way down into her belly.
Steeply and rapidly, a force shot her signature into the ceiling. The spell filled the entire room with a stifling, carnal air and blackened her veins. As she fought them back, a tunnel overtook her vision. Her magic wanted out—all of it.
Her body slipped backward. The cup fell from her hand and shattered. In the next instant, she found herself on her back.
Kiran straddled her and dug his nails into her arms. “Let it go, Imani. I want to see it. I know you’re fighting your own nature. I know there’s darkness in you, desperate to get out. It calls to you, and you’re suffocating when you resist.”
Her eyes rolled back at his predatory touch as she obeyed. It felt good to stop fighting, finally. The magic threw itself out in an inky mess into the room, colliding with the rest of Kiran’s and their blood magic. The room darkened to a black void as if all light had been snatched instantly. Glass shattered somewhere, and wood splintered at the force. She couldn’t see her hands in front of her face. She couldn’t see the floor beneath her.
She pressed her fingers into her forehead, but she couldn’t focus, couldn’t get a firm grasp on anything. Yet, somehow, she kept a tenuous hold on her oppressive magic so it didn’t destroy the room. It responded to her pull, but barely.
After another surge in her power, he relented and ran his hands up and down her bare arms. Pain and pleasure warred inside in equal measure now, but the touch helped her regain control. His warm hands tracing small circles on her skin sent shivers through her.
Dim light returned around them.
Eyes fluttering, she almost slipped into an exhausted sleep.
“Stay awake a bit longer, my darling.” His throat strained, and he held her face with his hands.
With barely a thought, Imani loosened her hold on the magic, letting the whirls of shadows move in twisters throughout the room. It was nice but strange to have them roaming free.
His hands fell from her face.
When she glanced at Kiran, he stared open-mouthed at them. Confusion and awe shone in his eyes, and he grinned. Her dangerous shadows had exploded into darkness earlier in front of Aiden, and Kiran’d had to help pull her back from a terrifying Fabric event. She assumed he’d be threatened and furious with her for being so careless. And yet, he appeared to love it or at least, appreciate it. Why did he appear so excited and amused? Did he know what her magic was?
Whether he did or not, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she relished it. Celebrated unleashing the power and controlling it in front of him. More than anything, she wanted to let it tear through the room in all its destructive glory.
“Are you not afraid of my magic?” she asked, grinning back at him lazily, uncertain why she smiled like a fool, yet she couldn’t stop.
As thick columns of black clouds swirled around them, Kiran smiled down at her like a brilliant dawn morning, but his eyes showed no kindness.
“Mine—this is mine,” he whispered to himself, his eyes unhinged as they stared into hers.
Somehow, she found herself agreeing or, at least, unable to argue.
Kiran twined his fingers through her hair and yanked her head back until she stared at the ceiling. “When did you last feed?” The frantic question tumbled out of him.
She shook her head, wanting to sleep.
“Focus on my voice, Imani. Let me see those perfect eyes,” he whispered raspingly as he pinched her chin, forcing her eyes to open again.
Imani spiraled into madness when concern slipped into his features.
“There you are, darling,” he sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.
“Tonight,” Imani mumbled, trying to clear her head.
He was desperate to finish this binding with her, and if she couldn’t deliver, she might not wake up again.
His fangs came out again, and he ripped a massive gash in his arm like he was angry at something then let it gush into his cup. “Good. We’ll risk it.”
“Risk what?” She was still bleary-eyed as she stared at him and gently stroked his arm.
His pupils blew wide, a menacing black overtaking them both. “I can’t help but hate you.”
Confused, Imani wrinkled her brow. Hate her?
But, with a shake of his head, he refocused and grabbed his wand from the floor next to him. The blood heated again, smoking. He pressed her wrists hard above her head, holding her tight to the floor.
“Stay still,” he ordered before quickly pouring the blood into her mouth.
Practically gagging, she let out a slight cough but managed to keep it down.
He drank the rest, and then he brushed his lips over her ear as he initiated the binding. Again, her muscles locked in the now-familiar connection.
With his strange dialect and her broken elvish, she didn’t fully understand the words—a stupid position to be in. She should have told him to cast it in the common tongue, but it was too late now.
Kiran’s melodic voice anchored her as he proceeded with the binding.
Everything fell away. Imani’s belligerent magic, once screaming and clawing to protect her, now purred in bliss. Instead of pain, the ache throbbed like pleasure. As he continued, she fisted the fabric of her robe, listening to it chant in her head and chest like a drumbeat.
More, more, more.
When she opened her eyes again, he gazed back at her with such intensity that it startled her.
Leaning in, he pressed his mouth to hers but didn’t kiss her. “Repeat it for me,” he murmured.
Dazed, she gave him a slow nod as he fed the words to her. His hands moved soothingly all over her skin. Her mouth had a mind of its own as phrases she had no control over stumbled out in a whisper.
Imani managed to translate a few of the pieces. First, he had her pledge what she thought was loyalty to the Throne, the king. The second binding was the promise to follow him somewhere when asked.
A surge of crisp white stillness speared Imani through her core, driving back the irrational fear and the sticky black cloud of death. Brilliant healing magic inside her chest spread out through her veins, clearing her spirit of darkness and hopelessness.
They were nearly done, and then the final words to seal the binding tumbled out of Kiran’s mouth. “ Aomagho ruya. ”
The words sent a magic rush through her, and she whimpered. Catching her breath, she pulled him closer, and their eyes locked in terrifying clarity. Warmth spread between her ribs.
Deep in her most hidden corners came a whisper of familiarity. Of sameness. Belonging. The promise of rare, undiluted power matched her own in its ugliness, cruelty, and beauty. A tingling caressed her body, and she craved it like a fiend. Based on the look in Kiran’s eyes, he did, too.
“ Aomagho ruya .” The words came out slowly as Imani attempted the correct pronunciation.
Kiran groaned, rubbing his nose against her cheek and neck, which caused a strange, unwelcome kind of nervousness to twist in her stomach. Again, this was too familiar to what had happened with Tanyl and his binding, except much worse.
But before she could question anything, the magic forced another wave of power through them, and a burning heat melded their bodies together.
Hands moving all over her, he wrapped his arms and legs around her, clutching her tight, almost painfully. Equally desperate to be close to him, she buried herself against his chest and dug her nails into his back.
Tears streamed down her face. The pain focused on the center of her being. Imani had never experienced flesh magic or a binding—or indeed any magic—this powerful.
It consumed her.
But the magic affected him, too. He tensed, hissing through his teeth and digging his fingers into her flesh where he held her.
A final roar of power blasted inside her skull, and the spell locked into place.
The room cooled as the magic dissipated.
But, simultaneously, something wholly primitive reared its head deep within Imani. It was like the spell had snapped the cords of her restraints—a violent need for Kiran’s soul. An innate sense of needing to own every part of his essence roiled through her entire being.
He said they would need to feed from each other, and he was right. Now that the binding was locked in place, she was starving for him.
Clutching his shirt, she tried to move closer. She could practically see his essence glowing inside his chest and floating around his body. As if it equally wanted her .
But he pushed her away with a snarl, low and unnatural in response.