14
No time to think
KADE
Zara lies deathly still in my arms, her silver hair spilling over me in moonlight, her face slack and pale. For a fleeting, gut-twisting moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed her too far. The memory of her collapsing burns fresh in my mind—her magic flaring briefly, chaotically, before extinguishing like a dying flame.
I pace through the woods, carrying the witch as my boots crunch over the brittle leaves. My power churns restlessly under my skin, and for once, I don’t try to leash it. I need the distraction, the outlet, to stop my thoughts from circling back to her limp form and the fact that I might’ve broken something that can’t be fixed.
The blood weave ties me to her, pulsing faintly as it tethers her life to mine, and I force myself to calm the gnawing fear clawing at my chest.
It’s ridiculous to be this concerned about her.
It’s insane to worry she won’t wake after a fucking that good.
It’s beyond my comprehension why I can’t ignore the thoughts swirling through my head.
She’ll wake because she has to.
But Gods only knows how she’ll react when she does. She’ll probably be furious. That is almost certain. Zara thrives on her fury, wrapping herself in it like armor. But beneath all that, she’ll be scared and vulnerable, and I’ll bet all I have that she’ll think I’m going to exploit that fear.
Usually, I would, and without hesitation.
I wouldn’t even think twice about using any tool at my disposal to get her to do as I want. I’d go as far as I had to and then a little further just to teach her a lesson, and I’ve never shown any inclination towards any kind of kindness with anyone before.
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my jaw as I glance down at her again. She’s so soft, so unbelievably vulnerable like this. She’ll fight me no matter what, but the girl who wants me to believe she’s unbreakable is the most fragile creature I’ve met in all my years, and I don’t want her to break completely. I want her to shatter, but only for me and only so we can be what we’re meant to be. Whatever the fuck that is, and more than a bit of me is longing to find out.
Worse, I want to play with her fear, but only when she knows she’s safe. I don’t want the kind of wild terror that takes hold and overwhelms you—and that means I want her to trust me.
A sharp tug from the blood weave pulls me from my thoughts and I shake my head, trying to free myself from the heat spreading through me. The fire ripples down my spine, spreading out like an invisible hand that tries to force mine, demanding I give her what she needs.
Gods, it’s awful.
The witch has a hold on me and I don’t like it at all.
I want to be free of it, and I imagine she feels the same about me.
“Shit,” I mutter, clutching at my chest where the bond burns brightest. The ebon chain is alive, restless, its power fluctuating between us. This isn’t normal. It’s never been this volatile before, and my head tells me there’s only one way to appease it.
Zara stirs, as though she senses my unease. Her lashes flutter and I watch her breathing deepen as the color slowly returns to her cheeks. Her little fingers fly over me and I assume she’s trying to soothe me, unaware of what she’s doing in her half-awake state.
Her eyes snap open, and for a split second she’s disorientated. Then those emerald eyes I’m obsessed with lock onto me and her lips I want to claim curl into a snarl.
“What the hell did you do to me?” Her voice is hoarse, but the venom in it is unmistakable.
I dip my head, trying to stay calm and doing everything I can not to appear threatening.
“Calm down, kitten. You’re fine. You’ve been properly fucked and the blood weave is acting up—probably because you pushed too far with that final burst of magic at the end.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, pulling herself up too quickly and wincing as her hand flies to her head. “And I didn’t do anything with any magic.”
I place her feet on the ground and watch warily as she glares at me through narrowed eyes.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” I say dryly. “For giving you another great fuck and containing the chaos you almost unleashed at the end.”
Zara scoffs, but the trembling in her hands betrays her. “Where are we going?” she demands as she stumbles away from me. “Don’t even think about lying to me. I’ll know.”
“To Varric’s Hollow,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral as I suppress my temper as it flares. “It’s a hidden trading outpost, deep in the Gray Wastes. The kind of place where few rules matter, and everyone’s dangerous or desperate, or both.”
