6. Killian
Killian
The temptation to chase, to hunt, to hurt rolled through me like lava, snuffing out the hunger that clawed at my insides each time I looked at her.
Mortals ruled the world now. That was inevitable after the demise of my people, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
They were fragile, lacked magic, and their lives were short, withering like the seasons.
They’d been slaves because of their sheep-like mentality, their lack of vision and drive.
They’d rather follow than take the lead, they’d rather be told what to do than take the initiative themselves.
Yet the demise of my people had given them full control, had forced them to create a civilization, and apparently they’d been successful at populating the world.
It was also clear they hadn’t found what we had discovered deep underground.
Even as the thought formed, I felt a tremor beneath my feet.
Thunder without sound. Pressure building like a storm.
They were at the door, beating against chains, and soon they’d break free.
I had to stop them. My gaze flickered to the scroll that lay at my feet, glowing with ochre light. Old magic. Magic she had shaped into sound, pulling me from the imprisonment of death with the confidence of a sorceress. She claimed she had no magic, yet she’d done this.
Fire licked up my arm, but I quelled it as I bent to retrieve the scroll.
Before my fingertips brushed the parchment, a scream split the air.
Her.
She’d crossed the threshold in a whirl of black hair and gleaming armor, but the moment she’d stepped under the archway, the runes blazed to life.
The horned dog raced after her, barking, and words burst into my mind.
Save her. I felt the connection, the invisible tether between us as she collapsed, writhing in pain.
This was more than I expected, beyond the abilities of the scroll. Only blood magic demanded a price such as this—a bonding, a linking between two. I hadn’t seen her blood spilled. I hadn’t felt it, but it was clear the runes held a memory of her blood, forcing fate to tangle us together.
The awareness crept into my mind with alarming certainty.
Even though she was looking for ways to escape, to be free of me, it was too late.
There was no escape for either of us now.
When—not if—the seal broke, chaos would flood the world like a dam bursting.
Mortals had no concept of what slept in the deep places, what nightmares had been locked away before my imprisonment.
Fire could only hold them for so long. I needed more than flame.
I needed her help.
The scholar thrashed on the ground, convulsing as though lightening ran through her veins. That strange hunger twisted in my chest again. Leaving the scroll on the ground, I stepped toward her, urgency tightening in my chest. Everything depended on keeping her alive.
Three strides brought me to her side, where I felt the echo of her pain deep in my soul, as though somehow it were mine to bear as well.
Unacceptable.
Hesitant to touch her skin—afraid of what that contact might unleash—I caught her boots and dragged her back across the threshold.
Tears trailed down her face as she took deep breaths, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that drew my gaze.
The armor had shifted, revealing the vulnerable curve of her throat as the magic released her.
Amber light flickered away, returning to the runes, their light dying as though they’d never come alive.
I sat down beside her, drawing my knees up, waiting for her to open her eyes so I could chastise her.
She was delicate yet undeniably beautiful.
I recalled the way she’d looked at me when I first awoke, her gaze bold and curious, darkening with something else that made her lips part and her throat work.
The same hunger had been there, mirrored in her eyes.
Now I watched the softening of her features, the way her fists curled tight, her teeth gritted. The sound in her breathing was wet, as though she were trying to hold back sobs. How long would she wallow in her misery?
“Why did you spill blood here? What ritual did you perform?” I asked.
Dark brown eyes opened, the glaze of pain fading as awareness sharpened. Her forehead knitted together, lips turned down. “I didn’t spill blood, nor did I perform a ritual. . .did I?”
“You must have, or the runes would not have reacted the way they did. Blood magic keeps you from crossing the threshold, from leaving the city. You swore an oath, created a bond.”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
Liar. “The runes hold your blood. They remember. You will not be freed from your oath until it is satisfied.”
Grimacing, she sat up, a hand going to her side. “What do I need to do?”
The movement sent her hair fluttering, and her sweet scent drifted to my nose. So it was her, the first scent I’d smelled when I’d awakened. A primal lure tugged at me. I stood quickly, putting more distance between us.
Getting involved with mortals was reckless. She was beneath me in every way.
I had to get what I needed from her quickly and sever the tether, break the bond before I succumbed to temptation.
I wasn’t like the feral scoundrels who gave in to impulse and let their physical needs guide their actions.
I had restraint. Self-control. Despite her being the first person to welcome me back, it did not earn her anything special.
Even if part of me wanted it to.
“I will hold your oath fulfilled after you complete four tasks for me.”
She winced. “I can’t help you destroy the world.”
“War is coming whether you wish for it or not.”
Her gaze skated to the archways, her voice low, almost pleading. “I woke you, gave you back your life. If you release me, I’ll leave you in peace and never come back again. I’ll forget about my research, about discovering the truth, and we’ll call it even.”
The thought of her leaving, of never seeing those dark eyes again, sent an unexpected flash through me.
Anger? Possessiveness? I wasn’t sure what to name it, nor did I wish to.
“It’s not that simple. What is set in motion cannot be undone.
You and I are bound together. I can’t release you until I fulfill my duty, and you are going to help me. ”
Her mouth worked. The way she frowned made me want to reach out, to touch her skin, to quell the heat building within her.
But fire magic was unpredictable. I might burn her.
Scar her. Mark that perfect skin. She needed to understand the weight of what was happening here, needed to comply.
I couldn’t walk this world with an unwilling mortal by my side.
“Come. I will show you.”
She blinked up at me, biting her lower lip. Despite my restraint, my gaze lingered there, caught on the sight of her worrying that soft flesh. Mortal. Fragile. Short lives. The litany did nothing to quiet the want.
“What will you show me?”
Fire crept up my arms, threatening to spill from my fingertips. This was a terrible idea, but it would convince her. After she saw this, she wouldn’t question me anymore. “You came for knowledge. Truth. I will show you the door, but we must hurry, for time is short.”
Light danced behind her eyes. That insatiable curiosity sparking to life. That was the key. I had her in the palm of my hand. She stood with a small grimace, hand going to her bag. The movement drew my attention to the curve of her waist, the way her armor molded to her form.
I turned my back on her before she could see the hunger in my eyes, pointing to the scroll. “Don’t forget it.”