Chapter 14 No Time to Think
No time to think
KADE
Zara lies deathly still in my arms, her silver hair spilling over me in moonlight, her face slack and pale.
For a fleeting, gut-twisting moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed her too far.
The memory of her collapsing burns fresh in my mind—her magic flaring briefly, chaotically, before extinguishing like a dying flame.
I pace through the woods, carrying the witch as my boots crunch over the brittle leaves.
My power churns restlessly under my skin, and for once, I don’t try to leash it.
I need the distraction, the outlet, to stop my thoughts from circling back to her limp form and the fact that I might’ve broken something that can’t be fixed.
The blood weave ties me to her, pulsing faintly as it tethers her life to mine, and I force myself to calm the gnawing fear clawing at my chest.
It’s ridiculous to be this concerned about her.
It’s insane to worry she won’t wake after a fucking that good.
It’s beyond my comprehension why I can’t ignore the thoughts swirling through my head.
She’ll wake because she has to.
But Gods only knows how she’ll react when she does. She’ll probably be furious. That is almost certain. Zara thrives on her fury, wrapping herself in it like armor. But beneath all that, she’ll be scared and vulnerable, and I’ll bet all I have that she’ll think I’m going to exploit that fear.
Usually, I would, and without hesitation.
I wouldn’t even think twice about using any tool at my disposal to get her to do as I want. I’d go as far as I had to and then a little further just to teach her a lesson, and I’ve never shown any inclination towards any kind of kindness with anyone before.
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my jaw as I glance down at her again.
She’s so soft, so unbelievably vulnerable like this.
She’ll fight me no matter what, but the girl who wants me to believe she’s unbreakable is the most fragile creature I’ve met in all my years, and I don’t want her to break completely.
I want her to shatter, but only for me and only so we can be what we’re meant to be.
Whatever the fuck that is, and more than a bit of me is longing to find out.
Worse, I want to play with her fear, but only when she knows she’s safe. I don’t want the kind of wild terror that takes hold and overwhelms you—and that means I want her to trust me.
A sharp tug from the blood weave pulls me from my thoughts and I shake my head, trying to free myself from the heat spreading through me. The fire ripples down my spine, spreading out like an invisible hand that tries to force mine, demanding I give her what she needs.
Gods, it’s awful.
The witch has a hold on me and I don’t like it at all.
I want to be free of it, and I imagine she feels the same about me.
“Shit,” I mutter, clutching at my chest where the bond burns brightest. The ebon chain is alive, restless, its power fluctuating between us. This isn’t normal. It’s never been this volatile before, and my head tells me there’s only one way to appease it.
Zara stirs, as though she senses my unease. Her lashes flutter and I watch her breathing deepen as the color slowly returns to her cheeks. Her little fingers fly over me and I assume she’s trying to soothe me, unaware of what she’s doing in her half-awake state.
Her eyes snap open, and for a split second she’s disorientated. Then those emerald eyes I’m obsessed with lock onto me and her lips I want to claim curl into a snarl.
“What the hell did you do to me?” Her voice is hoarse, but the venom in it is unmistakable.
I dip my head, trying to stay calm and doing everything I can not to appear threatening.
“Calm down, kitten. You’re fine. You’ve been properly fucked and the blood weave is acting up—probably because you pushed too far with that final burst of magic at the end.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, pulling herself up too quickly and wincing as her hand flies to her head. “And I didn’t do anything with any magic.”
I place her feet on the ground and watch warily as she glares at me through narrowed eyes.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” I say dryly. “For giving you another great fuck and containing the chaos you almost unleashed at the end.”
Zara scoffs, but the trembling in her hands betrays her. “Where are we going?” she demands as she stumbles away from me. “Don’t even think about lying to me. I’ll know.”
“To Varric’s Hollow,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral as I suppress my temper as it flares. “It’s a hidden trading outpost, deep in the Gray Wastes. The kind of place where few rules matter, and everyone’s dangerous or desperate, or both.”
Her gaze sharpens, suspicion etched across her face. “Why there?”
“Because Malric might have answers about the bond, and he’ll either be in Varric’s Hollow or someone who knows where he is will be,” I say simply, meeting her glare head-on. “He’s the only one I know with the knowledge and the power to unravel an ebon chain. Assuming he’s still alive.”
“And if he’s not?”
I shrug, the motion casual, even though my stomach tightens at the thought.
“Then we’re both screwed. But either way, we don’t have a choice. You want the bond gone, don’t you?”
The silence between us stretches taut. Zara walks on, her head hanging as she refuses to look at me, wrapping her arms around her body again.
It’s a terrible tell and the witch needs to get better at concealing her emotions.
Zara doesn’t realize how transparent she is—her arms clutched around herself, her posture stiff, like she’s trying to hold herself together before she shatters.
I let her walk ahead, keeping my distance as the tension between us stretches like a fraying rope.
The bond hums faintly, a low thrum in the back of my mind, feeding off her unease and amplifying my own.
I find myself wanting to hold her, to comfort her, and I don’t know what to do.
She’s burning with anger that fades into something colder and quieter.
Maybe it’s guilt. Or fear. Or shame. She’d never admit to what it is, but I’m certain I don’t like it and I want it gone.
“You do too,” she spits, and her pace increases.
My stomach clenches and my heart shudders.
I’d almost forgotten I had one, and even then all it did was pump blood around me.
But this ache and burning longing is uncomfortable and a damn inconvenience.
I don’t want the witch and I still despise her for all she is and everything she represents.
I detest her chaos, her rebellion and her spirit, but they’re flowing into me and I cannot be without them anymore.
She’s like a drug I’m hooked on and I never want to abstain from her. I want all she has to offer, the good trips and the bad. I want the soaring highs and the crashing lows, and the damn blood weave has me tied to the girl who I should hate more than anything else in this god-forsaken world.
I am so irrevocably fucked.
“That’s it?” she says suddenly, her voice sharp enough to slice through the silence. She glances over her shoulder, her glare cutting. “Your grand plan is a coin toss? Hope Malric’s alive; hope he knows what to do? What if he just laughs in your face and tells us to live with it?”
“Then I’ll make him talk,” I reply evenly. “Or I’ll find someone else who will.”
She snorts, the sound derisive. “Great. Very reassuring. I feel so much better now.”
Her sarcasm grates, but I don’t rise to the bait.
I know she’s scared, and I also know she hates that I see it.
Zara’s picking a fight for the sake of it and she doesn’t care what it’s about.
She wants to make herself feel better by putting some distance between us and the ebon chain doesn’t like the way she’s trying to move us apart.
“You don’t have to feel better, Zara. You just have to keep moving.”
She doesn’t answer; her steps quickening as if she can outrun me. Outrun the bond. Outrun herself.
But she can’t. Neither of us can.
The bond flares—hard and sudden, like a spike driven straight into my chest. I stagger, biting back a curse as the world tilts for half a heartbeat. Zara gasps ahead of me, her hand flying to her chest, and I know she feels it too. The ebon chain is acting up again, stronger than before.
“Stop!” I snap, and she freezes, spinning to face me. Her glare is as sharp as a blade, but there’s unease beneath it. Those deep green eyes stare at my chest as if she knows, and maybe she feels the pain coursing through me.
“What are you doing?” she demands, her voice shaking despite her best effort to sound angry.
I don’t answer immediately. The pulse of the bond doesn’t fade. It twists, a coiling pressure that makes it hard to breathe. My magic rises instinctively, as if it’s trying to push back against whatever is happening, and for a second, I wonder if the bond is reacting to something—or someone—nearby.
“It isn’t me,” I say, stepping toward her, my gaze sweeping the surrounding trees.
The forest doesn’t feel any different and there’s no danger in its shadows.
I push my magic out and Zara stiffens as the air stills and I search for anything that could be a threat.
My magic still isn’t working properly, but I’m thorough and it’s only when I’m sure we’re both safe that I step back and drop my guard.
“What was that?” she presses, her voice rising.
“That was me protecting you, darling,” I say grimly.
“The blood weave pulled us together and as far as I understand, it usually forces proximity if there’s a threat to it or us.
I assumed that came from outside, but in the absence of an intruder, I think we can safely say it’s unhappy with how we’re behaving. ”
Zara blinks, her confusion melting into fury. “Unhappy with how we’re behaving?” she echoes, her voice sharp enough to cut. “Are you saying this thing—this bond—has feelings now?”