Chapter 22 #2
Vines shoot up from the soil, wrapping around me to keep me tethered down.
Whatever protective spell he had around us shatters from the collision, cracking like glass, loud and sharp.
Trees fall, the impact trembling the ground beneath us.
Environmental sounds return—birds shriek as they take flight, branches snap from the trees that remain standing, and the rippling lake distorts in the distance.
As the dust begins to settle, I carefully have the vines release their grip on me.
That’s when he appears in front of me. It’s too late when I notice him; his spell envelops me and lifts me off the ground.
I gasp as it tears the remaining vines away and throws me backward.
I collide with a tree, the wind knocked out of me.
Sagging slightly, I quickly run my magic through my body, only to realize that only my defenses are broken. With no time to repair the damage, I drop the spell altogether. I need to focus on a more offensive strategy anyway.
I send my earth magic out to scope my surroundings, searching for Malakai’s presence. It unnerves me how adept he is at concealing both his physical form and magical signature. My heart races, my breathing becomes labored, and I’m thoroughly enjoying every second.
A moment later, my magic pings back to me, and I refuse to doubt it. I hurl a spell at the indicated position. It connects—something flickers—and Malakai appears a few feet away, his cloaking spell broken.
He immediately closes the distance, and I unleash spell after spell, each more extreme than the last. He counters most, but a few break through, leaving more cuts on his body. While he possesses physical speed, I’m clearly the faster caster. This doesn’t completely stop him, but it slows him down.
I bite my lip, weighing my next move. He’ll reach me eventually, and continuing to throw magic at him isn’t sustainable. The look in Malakai’s eyes makes it clear he’s done playing nice.
In an instant, I cut off my barrage of spells and direct all my magic to the ground before me.
Thick, black vines sprout up and shoot toward him.
I weave a protective spell around them, and Malakai’s eyes widen when he realizes he can’t cut through them as he did before.
The vines wrap around him, dragging him down to his knees, his face contorting with pain and rage.
In the next moment, his glamor shatters under the pressure.
I step closer, a satisfied grin spreading across my face, my heart racing in my chest. Both of us breathe heavily, almost panting.
As I catch my breath, I lean in and run my finger over the cut on Malakai’s cheek.
A swell of pride fills me at this first cut I’ve managed to land on him in a long time.
The sting of my touch makes him flinch, and he hisses in response. His eyes widen, pupils fully dilated, the gold almost swallowed by black. Oh, he’s pissed.
His t-shirt hangs in tatters around his chest, and I rip it away, admiring the sight of his red skin coated in his own blood. He looks every bit the powerful pureblood demon, even tied up at my feet—a sight I don’t mind at all. I find that I quite like having him at my mercy.
“Like what you see?” Malakai snarls.
“Very much, yes.” I sigh, biting my bottom lip.
I take a step back but keep my eyes on him, a smile lingering on my lips even as I bite them.
Then I raise my right hand and mold my magic into claws around my fingers.
Leaning forward again, I press them against Malakai’s neck.
The claws bite into his skin, a drop of blood coating my ice-blue magic.
“Yield,” I demand, my voice cold and unwavering.
A wide, challenging smile is the only reply Malakai gives me. So I press my claws harder against him and repeat, “Yield.”
“I would, love, but there’s something you seem to have forgotten,” he retorts.
“What?” I spit, my patience running thin.
Malakai’s smile widens, and my stomach drops slightly. “I play dirty.”
His eyes shift, and there’s a rustle behind him. Something catches the light, and I instinctively duck away. His dagger flies through the air, embedding itself deep in my left upper arm. The force knocks me off my feet with a loud gasp, the sharp pain making me scream.
“You. Damned. Asshole!”
Bringing a weapon to a magic fight—I should have known. I grab the dagger but can’t pull it free. With all my concentration on the weapon, Malakai breaks free from the vines. He stalks toward me, a smug, satisfied grin on his face.
“What did you do?” I gasp, struggling to pull the blade out again.
“I made it so only I can remove it. Just like with your necklace,” Malakai says, looming over me. “Oh, and it drains your magic.”
I lunge at him with my fist, but he catches it lazily with his hand.
He looks at me for a moment, then crouches down in front of me.
Malakai tightens his grip on my hand, and with a brutal snap, he dislocates my right shoulder.
The scream that escapes me is one of pure agony, my vision going white for a terrifying second.
He drops my arm and tuts. “Looks like that was a bit too much.” Malakai touches my shoulder, and bright pain flashes through me, almost enough to make me faint. “I ripped the tendon.”
Too much. It’s too much. I can’t breathe. Darkness creeps in at the corners of my vision, my chest constricting, narrowing my sight.
“Oh no, can’t have you passing out—we’re not done yet.”
Malakai pulls the dagger out with a single tug, spraying blood across his chest and arm.
My blood mixes with his own, and for a fraction of a moment, I’m mesmerized by the sight.
Then my healing kicks in, slowly knitting the wound together and returning some strength.
Not much, but enough to keep me from fainting.
Malakai holds the dagger up to his face, his tongue darting out to lick the blood from the blade. The sight sends a different kind of shudder through me.
His eyes flick to me, and my wrists snap together, the pain making me gasp.
I’ve lost all feeling in my right arm, but the left compensates.
Malakai places the dagger beside us, and I’m relieved to see it gone.
He smears my blood over my arm, from shoulder to wrist, before grabbing my wrists in one hand and pulling my arms above my head.
The strain makes me lightheaded again, my vision spinning for a moment.
He pushes me down onto my back, placing my arms above me. Leaves and twigs nip at my skin, so sensitive now that even the blades of grass nearly cut through my flesh with a dull sting.
Between the dislocated shoulder and the bleeding arm, I don’t have the strength to move—or to move at all.
“You’re getting stronger,” Malakai says, and I can’t tell if it’s a compliment or merely an observation.
With the way I’m very much down for the count, it doesn’t feel like either. I’m barely able to think straight, so I don’t care anyway. It’s hard enough as it is to breathe through the pain.
He lets go of my wrists and trails his hand down my chest. My breath hitches as his magic spreads tingles all over my body—tingles that softly heal the worst of my wounds, dulling the pain.
Malakai leans over me, his body blanketing mine, his hardness pressing against my stomach. He sweeps my hair away and places a deceptively soft kiss on my neck. My body heat rises from the simple touch, slightly dulling the pain and clearing some of the fog that tries to smother my brain.
Something must be wrong with me because I crave every single one of his touches, even when they’re meant to cause me harm. It never used to be like that for me, yet with him, the pain is like an aphrodisiac, and I can’t get enough of it.
“But you’re not quite there yet.” He chuckles as he raises himself to look me over.
That grin on his lips and the all-too-familiar gleam in his eyes, combined with the way he pins me down—I know exactly what’s coming next. And I want it, all of it.
“Now,” he says, licking his lips, “my prize.”
Malakai hooks his fingers in the waistband of my leggings and pulls them down, taking my underwear with them.
The cold air against my naked flesh makes me squirm, feeling too exposed out in the open.
I try to close my legs, but he swiftly places himself between them, his magic running over my thighs, gently tugging at my soft skin—an unspoken warning to behave.
Malakai nods in approval when I remain silent, then leans forward and roughly cups me in his hand. A gasp escapes me, turning into a whimper when he runs a finger up and down my slit. His touch ignites heat low in my stomach, my entire body reacting, coming alive—wanting, needing, craving him.
“You’re drenched.” His voice is deep and gravelly as he repeats the movement, making me whimper.
He sounds as if he can barely believe that I want him despite the pain he inflicts on me.
His eyes scan over my body, meeting my own after what feels like an eternity.
I find the amazed disbelief from his tone reflected in his golden orbs and see how it melts into realization when I merely return his gaze head-on.
I want him to know that I want him—all of him, even the pain.
No matter if he understands it or not. And it looks like something in him finally comes to terms with that, finally accepts it as the truth—that I’m not letting him have his way because I’m too weak to fight him on it, but because it’s what I want.
Malakai pulls his hand away, and a small whine escapes me at the loss of contact. He chuckles, holding his finger up to show me it’s coated in my arousal, then puts it in his mouth and groans at my taste.