“Takara Bennett,” I provided.
His smile widened, its warmth diminished by his eyes that had turned obsidian black. “Takara Bennett, you are entering an oath that binds you to a debt to Cirrian Arcaya, shadow god and Collector, and in return you are given seventy-two hours to save your friend Amelia Delgado’s soul from collection by the shadow gods. It is a binding agreement that holds the clause of secrecy and successful completion of your debt?—”
I tugged my hand away at the mention of secrecy. “How do I keep you a secret? William already knows about you.” I didn’t bring up the kinborn witches’ knowledge that I’d also come into contact with him.
“Our agreementis a secret. I’ll make myself scarce. It’s up to you how you handle your vampire sentinel. I suspect you’re quite skilled at keeping secrets. After all, you keep your abilities hidden from those who’d want to see you destroyed for them.” He sneered. I barely caught his last comment. “If nothing else, you are talented in the art of secrecy.”
Reducing William to simply a vampire guard showed how removed Cirrian was from this world. No one would ever be as dismissive of William. Perhaps Cirrian knew and didn’t care. His magic may have rendered him indifferent to status and in a position to see most magic, skills, and abilities as inferior.
He took hold of my hand again, his eyes locking with mine with a silent request to continue. I couldn’t move past what he said about people wanting to destroy me for my abilities. Vina’s final words returned to haunt me.
Cirrian had the advantage of knowledge. I debated if I should keep pretending I was hiding from discovery, or admit I didn’t know what an ashinwa was.
“If you fail to uphold your oath, you forfeit your life. Your soul and your magic will be collected.”
Suppressing the creeping fear, I responded with a simple nod, clinging to the fragile hope that my immunity to oaths would shield me from being bound. The hope faded when my forearm, where I’d pushed up my sleeve, grew uncomfortably warm. Archaic sigils formed a crest that encircled what appeared to be a distorted split infinity loop. It glowed to life and completed its mirrored half pattern on Cirrian, making it whole. Studying the intricate design, I realized that what I had mistaken as an infinity loop was actually two serpents in a twisted depiction of the ouroboros symbol. A brutal embrace where one of the snakes was devouring the other.
“We are as one,” he avowed, offering me a smile that I reluctantly returned.
I made a note that I wasn’t immune to kinborn witch magic or shadow gods’ oath-binding spells. And was now bound to Cirrian, the shadow god. But that was the least of my worries. Amelia needed me.
Cirrian’s hand lingered on mine, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. Intense eyes bored into mine but differently than before. A fleeting expression—something like familiarity, perhaps even adoration?—crossed his face.
I whispered his name, jarring him into awareness.
“We are bonded by an oath,” he murmured to himself as if he needed the reminder. Shaking his head, he dragged his fingers through his hair, the movement drawing my attention to the sharp lines of his shoulders and the way his shirt stretched over the defined muscles of his chest and torso.
My effort to redirect my attention from him didn’t escape his notice. He flashed me a devilish grin, the kind that seemed tailormade to remind me of his comment earlier about sex with him being an experience women were unlikely to forget. I aggressively shoved aside the intrusive images his comment had conjured, determined not to give him the satisfaction.
Cirrian returned to Amelia’s side, his fingers moving with precision as they traced around the encroaching sigils of the curse, creating a border of burnished markings. The suffocating energy of his magic filled every corner of the room. The curse reacted violently, attempting to breach the border that restricted its advancement.
When the magic settled, he didn’t have to confirm what I knew. He’d succeeded. I had more time to save Amelia.
“Thank you.”
“No gratitude is necessary. Gratitude suggests that our motives align, and they don’t. This is a mutually beneficial transaction.” His expression turned granite. Arctic-cold eyes met mine. “My responsibility is to collect magic and souls. You’ve simply bargained for more time to grieve an impending death. Because finding, and killing, the person capable of such a curse will be nearly impossible. I’ve secured a debt that will allow me to release my friends.” He smirked in a cynical manner that made my fists clench at my sides.
It didn’t escape me that he saidfriends, plural, notfriendas he’d initially said. Something in my expression or intense scathing glare must have revealed my thoughts. He acknowledged it with a dismissive shrug and a wave of his hand. “I may not have been entirely direct. The situation still stands. And it doesn’t matter since you’ve already agreed to it. Whether it’s one person or hundreds, you will help release them.”
Releasing one person opposed to a cadre of them was an entirely different situation and he knew that.
Gearing up to tell him he was an asshole, my eyes were drawn to the pattern along the border his magic had made. Small ticks aligned the perimeter. A quick count revealed there were seventy-two.
“Will they disappear with each passing hour?”
He nodded.
“You’re able to halt the curse with this specificity but unable to undo it?” I challenged. I didn’t believe that for one moment.
“I didn’t say I wasunableto do it, I said Icouldn’t. The curse is intertwined with her life, and it goes against our rules to withdraw a death. I’m giving you the opportunity to save her.”
He couldn’t withdraw death, nor could he kill. His ability to navigate loopholes was concerning, but he couldn’t kill. I clung to that bit of information like a life jacket.
His expression darkened, a cruel cast passing over his face. “I cannot kill,” he said, his voice dropping, “but I can deliver such pain that death becomes a wish—a wish I am forbidden to grant.”
Before I could respond, my phone rang, cutting through the tense silence. It was probably for the best. Nothing I was about to say would have improved the situation.
Cirrian’s gaze flicked toward the phone with mild disapproval. “It’s probably your vampire guard.”
