“It’s a fucking leash, isn’t it?” she hisses. “It’ll tighten if we pull in opposite directions.” She lets out a harsh haugh, its sound bitter. “We’re running out of time, aren’t we?”
I almost laugh at her insight, but the tension in the air reminds me this isn’t a joke. Zara’s unnervingly accurate in her conclusions and the blood weave will only work harder as we come closer to threatening it. It’ll try to undo the damage and turn back the threat, and we’re going to be pushing and pulling with and against each other until we break the damn thing.
If we can break the damn thing.
Or if it gets its way and we both give in to it.
Her eyes flash and I don’t know if I should plead with her to accept me. I wonder what that would be like, and maybe it might be tolerable. My heart reminds me it still feels as it screams that it would be so much more than that and I exhale far too loudly for both of our comfort.
The irony of this situation isn’t lost on me—two people bound by magic neither of us wanted, forced to play nice, or risk being strangled by it.
“We’re running out of time,” she repeats, her voice quieter now, almost resigned. Her gaze locks on mine, and I see it—a flicker of uncertainty behind the anger. It stirs something in me I can’t afford to name.
“We are,” I admit, my tone softer than I intended and the corner of my mouth twitches. “You’ve felt it. If we keep pulling in opposite directions, it’ll punish us for it.”
Her hands cover her face and Zara looks like she’s about to burst into tears. I don’t know what to do. Comforting someone isn’t my skill set, and with Zara, it feels like the wrong move. But I’m standing here and just watching her crumble before me, and every instinct screams I should stop being a fucking coward and act.
“Zara,” I start, unsure of what I’ll even say, when she drops her hands, and I see her eyes—wide, panicked, and brimming with tears she refuses to shed. The need to soften for her is overwhelming and I sigh, moved to rearrange the darkest recesses of my soul for her.
“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
The blood weave twists and flares between us like a whip, hot and urgent, making the air shift. I barely have time to process it before the ground trembles and the smell of sulfur catches in my throat. A deafening silence drowns out all other sounds, and my eyes lock with hers as a violent surge of energy explodes around us.
Splinters of wood and jagged branches fly in every direction. There’s nothing but chaos and the wind streaks across me, leaving me without a moment to catch my breath.
There’s no time to act. There isn’t even time to think.
Instinct takes over and I throw myself forward, tackling her to the ground as debris whistles past us. Pain sears along my back as a sharp object grazes me, but I keep moving, refusing to stop until she’s pinned under me and my body shields her.
There’s a crash and then a thud as something heavy hits the ground and I glance over my shoulder, staring at the massive tree branch lying where we stood moments ago. The chaos settles as the leaves flutter down around us and the only sound remaining is Zara’s ragged breathing beneath me.
Her fingers cling to me and the panic inside me calms as the girl I’m protecting finds some comfort in me.
“What the hell just happened?” she whispers, staring up at me, her face pale.
“You lost control,” I say, my voice tight. “The ebon chain triggered your magic.” I stare down, loathing how the tears in her eyes distort their emerald. “It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re powerful, for a witch.”
Her lips part, forming a protest, and to my surprise, she cuts herself off. “Thanks. You’re chivalrous, for a warlock.”
My thighs drop over hers and I can’t say that it feels anything but right. Her hands slide down my chest as she pats me, both soothing me and reassuring herself I’m still breathing. Her fingers linger for a moment too long before she seems to realize what she’s doing and pulls back, curling them into fists against me. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, the rapid rhythm of her breath betraying the fear she’s trying to suppress.
“This can’t happen again, Zara.” My voice is low and the blood weave thrums between us, tugging insistently as it urges closer still. “I’m going to teach you some control, and, so help me, you’re going to have to teach me how to thrive in chaos.”
