Chapter 9
Elias
I dove behind the bar just as the front windows exploded inward in a shower of glass and shadows. Dark tendrils snaked through the openings, writhing like living things, and the smell of ozone and old blood filled the air.
Marcus.
I surged to my feet, fangs fully extended, every instinct screaming danger.
Killian was already moving, vampire speed carrying him toward the entrance.
I shouted after him, but the shadows coalesced into a barrier between us before I could go after him.
Through the darkness, I could barely make out a figure standing in the street.
"Good evening, gentlemen." Marcus's voice slithered through the air like poison. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."
"Ye're not welcome here, djinn." I could barely see him barring the door, but Killian's voice carried pure authority. Pure threat.
"Oh, I'm well aware." Marcus stepped through his own shadows like they were made of water, moving Killian out of his way with a flick of his wrist as he entered the club, slamming the door shut from prying eyes out on the street.
"But I thought it was time we had a chat about my little witch problem, who I understand, you're helping. " His flat brown eyes turned to me.
Pure rage erupted through my veins. "You don't talk about her," I gritted out through clenched teeth. "You don't even think about her."
Something cruel twisted his mouth. "Ah, yes. The mate bond." His tone was full of disgust. "Tell me, vampire, does she taste as sweet as she smells?"
I was moving before I could think, launching myself over the bar. My fist connected with his jaw, and I heard the satisfying crack of bone as pain shot up my arm.
But Marcus only laughed and backhanded me across the room. I slammed into the far wall hard enough to crack the plaster, and stars exploded across my vision. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Killian's roar.
Eyes still on me, Marcus threw out his hand, and Killian froze still as a stone. The fire of every demon in hell burned behind his eyes when he realized he couldn't move.
"Pathetic," the djinn purred in my ear. "You're supposed to be Killian's best fighter.
His lieutenant, so to speak. And look at you—barely able to stand.
" He tsked with a slight shake of his head.
"The bond with your witch is making you weak, vampire.
By the time you figure out how to use it, she'll already be dead. "
The words punched through my chest like a stake. "Touch her and I'll—"
"You'll what?" He crouched in front of me, shadows writhing around him like pets.
"You can barely feed without her. Can barely function.
And when she walks into my dimension to save her precious cousin, she'll be too weak to do it.
And you'll be too weak to bring her home.
She'll be lost in the threads forever, and it'll be your fault for being too much of a coward to claim what's yours. "
Staring at the triumph written all over his face, something in me snapped.
I grabbed his throat and slammed him backward into the floor, concrete cracking under the impact. Baring my fangs, I hissed, "I am not weak."
"Prove it." His answering smile was all teeth. "Because right now, all I see is a pathetic vampire who can't even protect himself, never mind our sweet Talin."
Red flooded my vision. I raised my fist to strike again, but more shadows exploded from Marcus, hurling me off him. I flew across the room and crashed into the bar, feeling ribs crack and tasting the salty copper of my own blood as my face bounced off the surface.
Through the pain, I felt something tug hard at the center of my chest. Then harder. Then so hard I gasped with the force of it.
Talin.
She felt this. Felt me fighting. Felt me hurting.
And she was coming.
"No." I got to my feet, ignoring the grinding pain in my ribs. "NO!"
The front door slammed open.
My little witch stood in the doorway, her green eyes blazing with power, threads of different colored light crackling around her hands with a life of their own.
Her black hair whipped around her face in a wind that didn't exist, and my eyes widened.
She looked like some ancient goddess of fate and fury.
She found me instantly, taking in my battered state, the blood on my mouth, the way I was favoring my left side.
Then her eyes went back to Marcus. "Get. Away. From him."
Her voice was ice. It was death. It was everything terrible and beautiful at once.
Marcus stared in shock for a moment, then laughed and clapped his hands together. "The Threadwalker! In the flesh! How delightful. Come to save your mate?"
"I said, get away from him."
The threads around her hands brightened, intensified, and suddenly I could see them.
All of them. Marcus's red thread. The blue thread connecting her to Alex.
Even the silver thread binding her to me, visible now because of her power.
And thousands more, shimmering in the air like a web only she could fully perceive.
She was magnificent.
She was terrifying.
She was going to get herself fucking killed.
"Talin, no—" I started toward her, but Marcus scowled at me, and suddenly my feet were rooted to the floor.
I couldn't move.
My blood ran cold as Marcus tilted his head, studying her with predatory interest. "You shouldn't be able to see the threads this clearly.
Not without proper training, which I know you haven't had.
Unless—" His eyes widened slightly. "You've been forcing your power.
Tearing yourself apart trying to find our Alex. How wonderfully self-destructive."
"Shut up." She took a step forward, and the threads around her hands wove themselves into something that looked like a blade.
"You're going to leave. Now. And you're going to stay away from everyone I care about.
Or I'm going to cut every single thread of fate that connects you to this world and watch you unravel into nothing. "
The threat should have been empty. She was one young witch against a djinn who was centuries old. And he was right. She had no training, no full understanding of her powers.
But Marcus actually took a step back.
"You can't," he said, but there was uncertainty in his voice. "You don't know how."
"Want to test that theory?" Silver light pulsed brighter around her hands.
For a long moment, no one moved, but the air crackled with power and possibility and the very real threat of violence.
I could feel our connection thrumming between us, feeding her strength even as it drained mine.
She was using that connection to stabilize her power, whether she realized it or not.
We were a part of each other. Completely. Undeniably.
And I'd been a complete fucking idiot to think I could fight it.
Marcus glanced back and forth between us, his expression calculating. Then he smiled, cold and cruel and promising future pain. "Actually, I was just leaving." His gaze fixed on Talin. "Enjoy your mate while you can, little witch."
My fangs ached to rip out his throat when he called her that.
"When you come into my world for Alex, I'll be waiting. And all the threads and bonds in the world won't protect you from what I have planned."
He dissolved into shadows and was gone.
The moment he disappeared, Talin's knees buckled.
With a sound of panic, I tore myself from the djinn's weakening hold and was at her side before she could hit the ground, catching her against my chest despite the screaming pain in my healing ribs.
Her weight settled against me perfectly as I lowered us both to the floor.
"I've got you," I murmured against her hair. "I've got you."
Her eyes rolled back in her head, and I could feel her life force dimming. Panic drained the last remaining strength from my body. "Talin!" I shook her gently. "Talin!!" What the fuck did she do?
She needs yer blood," Killian said from behind me, his voice cutting through the haze like a blade. "She needs yer strength, Elias."
I shook my head, the movement jerky, desperate.
No. Gods, no. I couldn't do that to her.
She had no idea what my blood would mean.
What it would bind us into, forever. The thought twisted in my gut, a mix of terror and longing that I couldn't shove down, not this time.
My control, that iron grip I'd held onto for over a century, was cracking right there on the floor of this godforsaken club, with her limp in my arms.
"Yer blood!" he shouted, the Irish lilt in his voice sharpening with urgency, like he could sense the war raging inside me.
Her face was pale. Too pale, the kind of ashen that screamed death was closing in.
I could see the life leaching out of her, her green eyes fluttering shut, those threads she'd wielded so fiercely now vanished, leaving her empty.
My chest tightened, a vise squeezing my undead heart until it hurt more than any wound I'd ever taken.
Talin—my little witch, my beautiful chaos—was slipping away, and I was helpless. How the fuck had it come to this?
"Elias, I'll rip yer damn wrist open myself if I need to," Killian growled, stepping closer, his presence a looming shadow. "I'll not have ye following her to the grave. Do ye hear me? Not today."
His words echoed through the tunnel of my mind, distant and muffled against the buzzing roar in my ears.
I tried to focus, to pull myself together, rubbing my thumb against her cheek as if that could bring some color back.
But the panic was rising, hot and uncontrollable, flooding my veins like venom.
Her lips parted on a weak exhale, her body going slack against mine, that fierce spark I'd come to crave dimming to nothing, and something inside me shattered.
A sob caught in my throat, raw and unfamiliar, as tears—actual fucking tears—burned my eyes. I couldn't lose her. Not her.