Chapter Six #3
“What am I missing?” I step between the two but neither glance my way, their jaws clenched as their magic presses against each other. “Does it have something to do with the fact that he’s clearly from fucking exile?”
That does it. All three snap their heads my way and a humorless laugh escapes me.
“You didn’t seriously think I wouldn’t notice? I’m bonded, not fucking blind. Even if I were, I can smell her all fucking over him. And if Silver can sense his magic, but found none? Yeah. If that doesn’t scream I came from a place where magic is leashed, I don’t know what does.”
“We don’t know what any of this means,” Creed rushes.
Sinner scoffs. “It means we fucked up and it’s your fault.”
“Fucked up what?”
“Yeah, Creed, fucked up what?” Sinner challenges.
“Enough.” Creed’s cold stare is eerily similar to our father’s—one that promises an ass whooping. My oldest brother looks to me. “He may be from there, but we don’t know why or how he’s here.”
I glare at the gifted on the table, hating that he even exists and not knowing why. But still, my magic doesn’t rise in defense.
This gifted has touched her skin. I need to know why, when, and fucking where his hands have been, if only so I know before I cut them from his body.
“Tell me when it’s time to beat the answers from his skull,” I demand, feet already carrying me wherever the hell my subconscious has decided to go.
Back to the garden. Whispers graze the inside of my skull, vibrating along bone. My head snaps toward the fountain, then toward the hedgerow, searching for movement. Nothing shifts except the leaves. The whispers come again, closer now, but they don’t just whirl around me. They curl through me.
I spot the gifted’s mask, forgotten on the ground four feet from me. A sheen of gold flickers beneath the surface, and my eyes narrow. The pull in my chest sharpens in response.
The gold pulses again, and something inside me answers. My hand extends without permission, fingers closing around its edge, and heat seeps into my palm with a fierce sense of familiarity.
The warmth travels up my arm and behind my ribs, spreading through muscle and marrow until something deep beneath my sternum parts and allows power to rush inward.
The constant restless edge beneath my magic eases into a steady, resonant hum, like a blade sliding back into its proper sheath after months of being held too tight.
I press my palm over the inside pocket of my jacket, checking the shape of the item tucked there before yanking it away with a growl.
I inhale as my vision deepens.
I feel taller without moving, grounded and lifted at once.
My eyes flare as my pulse picks up.
Is that…
Are you waking?
I remain still, mouth twitching at the edges.
Knight’s ethos rose at some point in his mating.
Will mine finally show itself?
I rise slowly, the mask steady in my grasp, my magic coiling around me with quiet dominance.
I can feel you now, just fucking rise. I have my mate. It’s time.
A sharp heat flares between my shoulder blades.
I jerk instinctively, fingers spasming as the mask slips from my grip. “What the fuck?”
“What is that?”
I turn, finding Arabella standing but feet away.
She comes closer. “Legend?”
I clear my throat. “A mask of some sort.”
She smiles, though it lacks any warmth as her blue eyes lock onto the mask with surprising intensity. “Where did it come from?”
I hesitate. And I don’t know fucking why.
Arabella bends to touch it, and my hand almost snaps out to stop her, instinct slamming through me hard enough that my fingers twitch at my side. I don’t want her to fucking touch it.
My brows slam together.
Protection.
I’m just protecting her.
My jaw tightens as she gets closer, and then her fingertips brush the mask.
She jerks back with a cry.
“Oh my gods,” she gasps.
The scent of her melted flesh and blood hits a second later, and my magic surges in violent response.
“Arabella!” I move to hold her gently, twisting her in my arms to examine the singed skin.
Wide eyes stare up at me and I cradle her face, torn between the need to comfort her and collect the mask.
But then a bubbling sound reaches my ears. The mask’s thick material melts around me. The dark surface collapses inward, folding into itself until it becomes a thick, blackened puddle at our feet, viscous and alive. The gold vanishes within it, swallowed whole.
One by one, the roses rise taller than before—like they’ve been fed and not poisoned.
“What in the fuck?” I mutter under my breath.
A sharp clarity enters my mind until Arabella steps in front of me before I can process it fully, her hands pressing flat against my chest.
The contact jolts through me and I blink several times.
“Legend,” she says, her lyrical tone cutting through.
My gaze drops to her eyes, fog sliding across my mind as her presence presses against the surge still coursing through me. I force her face closer, trying to make sense of what’s happening.
“Legend.”
My head snaps toward my brother’s voice, finding him staring at Arabella.
I sigh. “What is it?”
Slowly, Knight turns to me. “He’s awake.”