Chapter 13
“That wasn’t an honorable win,” Diehle seethed.
He rushed toward me, his stormy anger palpable.
Nothing about his manner resembled the unassuming human persona he’d presented earlier.
His fury was tangible, raw and unfettered.
Claws on display, he continued to stalk toward me.
Tucking the figs into my pocket, I drew my knife.
I feared this was going to end in a battle between me and a demon. I wasn’t certain I could win.
“I won. I’d be given ‘just one opportunity to get the Balic fig,’” I asserted. “Those were the terms of your contract.”
He grinned, revealing overly white straight teeth that appeared more ominous. “I never said you’d leave with it.”
The cruelty in his expression made it clear that arguing contra proferentem was meaningless this time.
“Honor your agreement.” Cirrian’s booming voice echoed from across the pond. Above him, streaks of magic thrashed like lightning.
“Cirrian, you forget yourself. You are a guest in my home. Behave like one,” Diehle demanded, his nostrils flared and ruby irises lively with contempt.
He’s big mad.
The contract materialized in Diehle’s hand, glowing crimson where I’d signed.
A torrent of wild magic peeled off it. He slashed his finger across the air, and a cut sliced into my stomach.
I doubled over from the searing pain, chastising myself for using his pen and putting my blood on the vellum, giving Diehle power over me.
It was ill advised to give blood and hair with follicles to anyone with magic.
I knew it could be used in spells but hadn’t been aware of its use in physical magic.
More than likely, it was an ability exclusive to demons, which explained why it had never been mentioned to me.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself upright, pressing a hand firmly over the bleeding wound. I looked over my shoulder at Cirrian, sending him a silent plea to keep the stones secure. Sweltering pain ignited through my abdomen and sweat pooled at my temples. My heart pounded.
I just needed to get to the other side. Another flick of Diehle’s fingers into the air carved a gash into my arm.
Among the many, many reasons not to deal with Diehle, the most vital one was that he was an unscrupulous asshole.
I risked a look at Diehle before sprinting toward the stones.
Magic blasted into my back, sending me air bound and toward the treacherous water where Diehle’s pissed off mer-creature was waiting.
A magical counter push into my chest sent me crashing to the ground.
I landed on my butt, my knife a few inches away.
Diehle’s eyes blazed with fury. The scroll was gone, and he made several rote movements with his hands. The figs were tugged out of my jacket, soared through the air and reattached to the branch. A pained sob slipped out of me, thin and pitiful, more a whimper than a cry.
My body throbbed. I pushed away my anguish and was preparing to make another attempt for the fig, when a shadow fell over me. Cirrian’s tense body was hovering over me. The benefit of being able to teleport. I was about to ask—no, plead—for him to use it to get the fig.
“Is anything broken?” His voice was gentle as he extended a hand to help me stand. I’d never had a fracture before, so I had nothing to compare the pain to. The magic they’d both thrashed into me made me feel like I’d been battered against a brick wall. Everything ached.
When I inhaled deeply, a shrill pain ran through my ribs. “My ribs ache and my side hurts a little. I don’t think anything is broken. My stomach and arm feel like they’re on fire,” I told him, taking in the shimmering protective enclosure around us.
“May I?” he asked, his hand lingering on the zipper of my jacket.
I nodded, trying to ignore Diehle’s vicious threats and promises of reprisal that penetrated our hub of safety.
Cirrian was gentle as he helped me out of the jacket and let it drop to the ground.
Kneeling, he slowly rolled up the bottom of my shirt to reveal the cut on my stomach.
I’d seen the damage to my arm and wasn’t in a rush to look at the injury on my stomach, which felt worse.
Cirrian’s low growl confirmed I was right.
“You succeeded despite his cheating.” There was admiration in his expression and resonating deep in the timbre of his voice.
Cirrian’s intensity was hard to handle. Even his compliments felt like a weighted blanket.
My eyes flicked to the fresh rips in my jacket.
I wondered if I needed to invest in Kevlar.
Would it have fared any better against an aggrieved demon determined to rip me apart?
Cirrian’s fingers ran along my skin, gentle and unhurried. His touch tamped down my concern arising from Diehle standing outside the barrier, leveling threats of violence that were becoming increasingly detailed and sadistic as his rage increased.
“Asshole,” Cirrian muttered.
I choked on suppressed laughter. The king of assholes, calling someone else one?
“He should have just let you have the fruit.” The hostility in his voice belied the gentle way his thumb strummed over my skin before standing.
His hands rested on my hips.
“I need to heal your wounds,” he told me. “There’s going to be a little pinch. Okay?”
Cirrian’s expression betrayed none of his emotions, but the unsettled fury in his rigid posture spoke volumes.
Waves of restless anger came off him as he watched Diehle circle the shimmering dome that covered us.
If I could hear Cirrian’s heart pounding, the situation could easily escalate out of control.
Then I realized it wasn’t the beat of his heart but my oath mark that was pulsing like a heartbeat.
Cirrian tore his eyes from Diehle. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the rampaging demon as his magic battered the enclosure. Fear coursed through me when the dome faltered under the demon’s assault. Cirrian shot him a warning look.
Diehle’s angry words had devolved to crazed promises of violence and death. Cirrian had an easier time disregarding him than I did. Diehle had injured me by using my blood signature on the contract, and I eyed him, wondering in what other ways he could weaponize it to hurt me.
Cirrian’s finger hooked under my chin, guiding my eyes back to him. “Kara, keep your eyes on me.”
I did. Meeting his amber gaze, I let the molten warmth in his eyes distract me from the chaos around us, managing a soft “’kay.”
Embers of light flared over our markings. Slow, sinuous magic threaded through my binding mark, cool and warm simultaneously with a mild tingle. Just as I gave in to its tranquility, a sharp twinge pierced me.
Does he know what a pinch feels like? Or is this just a pinch for a person with an appreciation for pain?
Magic continued to weave through me, mending the injured skin. It was like someone was suturing my injuries using a topical analgesic instead of a nerve block.
“Do you even know what a pinch feels like?” I voiced aloud through gritted teeth.
He blinked in confusion. I wondered if this was what he’d experienced healing his own wounds after he’d coaxed me into stabbing him.
“Sorry,” he murmured. It carried real regret. “I don’t heal others often.”
When he was finished, a cooling menthol sensation flittered over the healed skin. He laid his hand over my exposed stomach, stroking the skin.
“Perfect,” he whispered. He must have sensed the mend, because his eyes never left mine.
Taking hold of my hands in his, he asked, “Kara, will you do me a favor?”
I nodded.
“Don’t move,” he instructed.
I nodded. His hands closed around mine, bringing them to my ears and pressing them close.
He moved one of his hands to cradle my head to his chest. The shimmering enclosure around us dropped.
A blood-curdling howl of pain was barely tamped down by my hands over my ears.
When I attempted to turn toward the sound, Cirrian held me firmly in place.
I shuddered at another howl ripping through the air.
Burrowing closer to Cirrian, I inhaled his scent.
The undeniable snapping of bones breaking and tendons tearing sent another shiver through me.
What the fuck just splattered across the back of my shirt?
The awful chorus of torment lasted for several minutes before Cirrian stepped away from me and slumped into himself.
He took slow, deep breaths. His chest rose and fell in measured beats like he was trying to purge the violence that clung to him. His breathing finally steadied. Moving closer to me, his hands snaked around my waist. Long fingers fanned across my lower back.
Cirrian’s eyes had darkened and were steeped with the bleakness of death. I found myself lured to it. Drawn to the raw, primal pulse of it. It was magnetic. In that moment, I was enticed by the embodiment of death and desperately searching for a way to rationalize the attraction.
He said he didn’t enjoy collections. Wait, he hadn’t said that.
Death and violence appealed to him, there was no denying it. I tore myself away, pushing back the darkness he offered, grappling for visions of fluffy puppies, playful kittens, bouncing baby goats, sunny meadows—anything to push away the darkness that was beckoning me to him.
Cirrian’s lips tugged at the corners before he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly over my jaw, sending a shiver through me.
A desire for more than a graze of touch.
Amusement sparked over his face at the undeniable internal battle raging in me.
I put a little more space between us in case my resolve faltered.
“You said you couldn’t kill,” I pointed out softly.
“I said it was against our rules,” he corrected.
My voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “You broke the rules?”
“I broke rules because Diehle did it first. He cheated.” He sighed.
“He sensed that your magic was different and it excited him. He made an offer to acquire your debt so that I’d have no interest in your well-being.
He could then explore you and your magic more, without restrictions or limits,” he growled.
Anger in his expression, he took several ragged breaths that didn’t temper his emotions.
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”
He waved away the gratitude. The anger had been replaced with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re more than entertaining, you’re a show that I’m enjoying.”
I was reluctant to give in to the hope that Cirrian could become my ally. Our agendas didn’t align. There was a part of me that was convinced he’d sacrifice the release of his friends for the collection of my magic.
“Your life is mine until you fulfill your obligation. No one claims it but me.”
He turned to survey the destruction surrounding us. I’d managed to honor his wish not to look, but curiosity got the best of me, and I began to look over my shoulder.
“Kara,” he snapped.
My eyes jerked back to him, heat rising over my cheeks. “I wasn’t going to look.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Jokes on you, I’m pretty good at it. I kept that weird-ass flex to myself. It wasn’t that I was a good liar, but for my safety, I’d grown quite skilled at lies of omission and subversion.
It was torture not to look at the damage, especially with the eerie stillness. There were no signs of life. Even the waves in the pond had stopped. Even the gentle breeze rustling through the trees earlier was gone.
Cirrian turned around to face the tree and opened his hands.
Two figs pulled from the branches, soared through the air, and landed in his hand.
He handed them to me. Tapping a finger at the figurative ticking watch at his wrist, his bemused self-indulgent smile returned.
My caution about making him an ally was warranted.
Cirrian was single focused, and it appeared he wanted to remind me of it.
I snatched up my damaged jacket and headed toward the pathway over the pond Cirrian had made for me. The concerted effort he put into standing close enough to block my view of the grisly destruction he’d caused made me smile.
“Change your shirt before you go anywhere else,” he advised.
Right, I had demon goo on it. I put the fruit in my jacket pocket and dropped it to the ground again.
Snatching the shirt off, I tossed it aside.
Cirrian’s eyes were trained on me, his lips slightly parted.
A fierce intensity shone in his eyes like embers of fire as they languidly traveled over my stomach to the satin cobalt-colored bra and lingered at the swell of my breasts.
A slow, seductive smile curled his lips.
He started to say something, but for the first time seemed lost for words.
It brought me immense enjoyment. Hyperaware of Cirrian’s influence over all our interactions, it was satisfying that my bold moment of immodesty had wrenched some of it away.
There were no quips, antagonizing comments, or flirty rebuttals. Just silence.
I grabbed the damaged jacket, slipped it on, and quickly zipped it.
“It’s just a bra, don’t look so scandalized,” I teased.
“Entertaining, and a cute little display of arrogance that I knew was there. You just needed me to bring it out of you,” he shot back with a grin that held a salacious promise.
He tapped at his wrist again, his brow rising.
His voice dropped to a low, smoldering heat.
“Kara, do you really have time to play with me?”
“No,” I rattled out, flushing. The memory of his touch after he healed my injury and the warmth of his lips on my skin revived.
He’d wrested back control. I hated that. Part of me needed to hate him to counter the feelings he stirred in me.
I’d have to dissect my complicated feelings about the shadow god later.
Amelia was my priority. Waving a quick goodbye, it was hard not to move in the direction of where Diehle once stood.
Before I could, Cirrian was in front of me, a dubious smirk on his face, so close the heat of his body and the thrum of his magic were constant companions as we navigated the stones.
The water rippled aggressively as the mer-creature let me know he was still there. Alive.
Unlike Diehle.
Walking me to my car, Cirrian’s eyes traced over my face, all emotion gone from his expression. “Good luck, Kara.”
I allowed myself to be na?ve enough to believe he was sincere, that it wasn’t driven by him simply wanting more entertainment.