Chapter 33 Jasmine
He lunges.
My men try to stop him, but I’m faster. One step through the shadows, and he’s mine.
We’re in the Dark Realm now, and he’s hauled upwards, chains of darkness coiling tight around his ankles, holding him high enough that his face is level with mine.
I don’t let anyone in, because he is mine.
“He said you were dead,” the traitor pants, then groans as my slivers tighten. “He said you… you were executed.”
Darkness encases him in a cocoon of black, slowly crushing.
“I-if… if you kill me… they’ll know. They’ll… find you... they’ll find you and—”
One of his arms tears free, so easily, like pulling the wing off a fly. The leg off an ant.
Nothing.
Blood pours from him, spurting from jagged arteries, gushing in a crimson waterfall onto the ground. I think he’s screaming, but I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my heart, and the dark voice within.
Kill him.
Avenge them.
All who suffered. Those who died.
They’re trying to reach me, to break through. But I know they’ll stop this.
And I need it. I need revenge.
“You were there that night. At The Inferno.” I step closer, his face contorts as my coils squeeze the bloody stump where his arm used to be. “You’re the warlock who blocked the portals. Who kept us trapped inside.”
I squeeze. Tighter and tighter—he nods, that’s all he can manage.
“We need him alive.”
No, no, no—no!
I shake my head, shove my barricade higher, thicker, darker.
But Kane just steps through it.
He’s behind me, his darkness isn’t touching mine, not yet, but it’s close.
“You promised me anything,” I whisper, staring at the man who dangles. “Time and time again, you swore you’d give me anything I wanted.”
Kane reaches for me, I feel it seconds before his fingers brush my spine—
I turn, and my darkness turns with me. It rises around me in rippling waves, slivers forming inky vines that dance across my skin.
“I want this. I want him. Don’t take this from me.”
Kane doesn’t retreat, his dark gaze studies me then flickers to the walls of shadows coiling around us.
“You’re still in control,” he says softly, meeting my eyes, sounding almost surprised. Almost… impressed.
I…
I am.
My darkness is here, surrounding me, but it isn’t controlling me.
We’re… together. Balanced in this moment, we’re the same.
“I want you to leave,” I demand, voice layered with shadows. Darkness and self as one. Then quieter. “Please, Kane.”
His gaze softens at that. “A compromise.”
I frown at his words, about to cut him off, dismiss him, ready to tear the traitor apart—
He steps closer, his darkness curling around me in a soft, soothing caress. Goddesses, why does that always feel so good?
“Let us have him for one night. One. Then he’s yours.”
In response, my slivers tighten around the hanging, soon-to-be-dead man.
“How can you stand it?” I whisper, disgusted. “How can you let him breathe for one second more when he’s betrayed you for decades?” I shake my head, staring into Kane’s dark, unblinking gaze. “He killed innocent people. He could have killed me.”
The shadows pulse with rage, with memory.
Kane never looks away. “And remembering that—” He steps closer “—remembering how close we were to losing you…” Even closer. “Is why I ask for one night.”
His darkness moulds beneath mine, folding into it like it always belonged there.
“Every choice I have made since that attack has been for you,” he murmurs. “Even when you don’t see it. Even when you don’t want me to. It’s always been for you.”
I shake my head against his words, trying to resist the pull of his voice. “Keeping him alive isn’t for me.”
“Not yet,” he says. “Because you’re thinking about now. I’m thinking about after.”
I bite my cheek, thinking over his words, and he uses the pause to eliminate the last bit of space between us.
“One night,” he repeats, voice dipping lower, eyes on mine. “You can give me that, can’t you?” His darkness brushes against me. “Just one.”
And the sharp glint of silver that flashes in his otherwise black gaze has me trapped. Because he could just take the traitor, but he isn’t. Kane’s letting me choose. Again.
Because Kane doesn’t compromise, but he does for me.
After the attack at The Inferno, when I’d lost my home, was separated from my only family, when I needed answers—he gave me that.
Even though this is different, so far away from that first moment at the dinner table in some random hotel, I still know this matters just as much.
I force myself to turn away, to stare at the man—the traitor—who’s barely conscious. His skin pale and waxen, drained of all colour as he stares at nothing.
Almost gone. Almost too late.
“Is that a yes?” When his fingers skim my lower back, my darkness simply melts away.
Traitorous shadow.
“I’m thinking,” I mumble.
His soft rumble of laughter is awfully dangerous, as dangerous as his cool fingertips trailing up my spine in the ghost of a touch.
I feel it everywhere. Cold, soothing, consuming. One small touch, and he holds so much power.
“Barely any training,” he murmurs, “yet you meld the darkness to your will so easily.” His voice is so low, and full of admiration. “So much power. So much control.”
His fingers slide back down my spine, tracing tantalising cold over heated skin, making me question the very control he just praised.
“I’ve seen power. I’ve tasted temptation.” His breath brushes my cheek. “But nothing—nothing—has ever felt as dangerous as you.”
I blink, heart racing, internal voice shaky. “You’re just trying to convince me to let you have him.”
“No, immaru.”
That nickname. Now I know what it means, it cuts so much deeper. Makes everything feel so raw.
“Just like the dark,” he says, so soft it brushes my mind. “I am yours to command.”
Yours. Mine. Ours.
“But if he dies,” he murmurs, pulling me gently back until my shoulders press against his chest plate, “we may never find the girl.”
His grip tightens. A cage of cold, of power, of something else I can’t name.
“Let me have him,” he whispers against my ear, no longer in my mind, but real and close, “and I’ll find her.”
My eyes flutter shut. “You sound awfully confident.”
“When I want something, I’m relentless.” His lips brush my ear, his voice the tip of an icy blade across my skin. “And I always get what I want.”
I exhale slowly, trying to sound unfettered. “Fine. He’s yours. But you’d better find her, Kane.”
He hums, satisfaction curling in his tone. “Such a good immaru.” I freeze. “I knew you’d break eventually.”
My breath catches. I whip my head towards him, but he’s not looking at my face. His gaze is focused much lower. On a very specific piece of clothing.
“Brave immaru,” he murmurs, “ignoring my brother’s warning.” His eyes slowly sweep up to meet mine. “Seems we have a lot of things to discuss, after.”
After.
I might be able to control the dark, but I clearly cannot control my brain, because I have lost all ability to speak. And when he adds a soft, knowing smirk, I’m about ready to be chained in the Pit myself for fear of my actions.
But I blink, and he’s gone.
There’s a hard thud as the traitor’s body hits the ground, groaning in a pool of blood while shadows drag him into the dark.
Then the Dark Realm peels away, I don’t know if it’s me or Kane who releases it, but I flinch, startled by the bright light of the Earth Realm, and then the sight of two Lead Commanders fighting—
No, not fighting. They’re… devouring each other.
“Huh. I had no idea those two were a thing,” the earth elemental comments, nodding with a frown. “Kinda makes sense.” Then he turns to me with a quick smile. “I’m Demetrius, nice to meet you.”
I try to smile politely. “Jasmine.”
At the sound of my voice, the light mage stills, her hands pushing hard against Orion’s chest. “Stop, stop—Ori—I swear I’ll melt your face off if you don’t—”
“Do it, you know I’ll like it.” And then he’s kissing her again, like he hadn’t just spent the entire interrogation setting her up for death.
“Orion. Eury,” Ezekial snaps their names.
Orion sighs, but finally relents. Eury shakes herself off, dragging a hand over her shaved head before turning to me.
“I’m Euryale Glintfell.” She holds out a hand. “Could I interest you in joining one of my units?”
I blink. I wasn’t prepared for… a job offer?
“Euryale, did you just proposition my bond?” Ezekial voice rumbles in a low growl.
“Wild,” Demetrius murmurs, chewing on something that looks like wheat.
“My Lord, my Lady, please excuse my bond.” Orion smoothly slides behind Eury, resting his chin on her shoulder, nose brushing her throat. A throat that is marked, clear teeth marks healed over with silvery skin. “She isn’t quite grounded.”
Eury’s mouth opens wide before she blurts, “Because you didn’t fully prepare me! You told me half a plan!”
“Your reactions are so much better when they’re pure. Unrestrained… raw.” He nuzzles her throat, lips brushing his mark.
I feel like an intruder as they start to bicker again.
I turn to seek safe ground, and catch Ezekial’s expression. He’s still sat, jaw tight, eyes distant as he looks out at the district behind him, but not really. He’s looking somewhere else. Somewhere wounded.
For a second, I see him not as a Council member or an enforcer. Just a man who trusted someone and has been betrayed. Again.
Then it’s gone, like he feels me watching him. His face smooths, the mask returns. But I still saw it, and it hurts. I’m about to go to him… but he’s already flitted, an arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me back against his front.
“Where are the others?” I ask.
“With Kane. You gave us one night. They wanted a head start.”
Oh. My eyes dart back to Eury and Orion still fighting, while Demetrius watches the show, but Orion never stops smiling.
“They’re bonds?”
“A prime example of opposites attracting,” Ezekial explains, arm tightening around me. “You called us your bonds.”
I did, because they are.
“I needed to get a reaction,” I half-lie.
His fingers brush along my ribs. “Is that all?”
“Can we talk about this… after?”
He doesn’t answer, not out loud, but his arm pulls me tighter. “We think it’s best Julien stays tonight. If the mole hasn’t broken by then, I’ll join Kane and Sai in the Pit.”
I nod. It’s the right call. If the mole had the same compulsion the young enforcer did, they would most likely need Ezekial to break him.
“But after.” Ezekial’s low murmur slips through my mind. “We will talk about your decision to wear this.”
His free hand slips over my hip, fingertips trailing the hem of my skirt.
I don’t know when after will arrive. But I find myself hoping it’s soon.