“Don’t move,” he instructed.
I nodded. His hands closed around mine, bringing them to my ears and pressing them close. He moved one of his hands to cradle my head to his chest. The shimmering enclosure around us dropped. A blood-curdling howl of pain was barely tamped down by my hands over my ears. When I attempted to turn toward the sound, Cirrian held me firmly in place. I shuddered at another howl ripping through the air. Burrowing closer to Cirrian, I inhaled his scent. The undeniable snapping of bones breaking and tendons tearing sent another shiver through me.
What the fuck just splattered across the back of my shirt?
The awful chorus of torment lasted for several minutes before Cirrian stepped away from me and slumped into himself.
He took slow, deep breaths. His chest rose and fell in measured beats like he was trying to purge the violence that clung to him. His breathing finally steadied. Moving closer to me, his hands snaked around my waist. Long fingers fanned across my lower back.
Cirrian’s eyes had darkened and were steeped with the bleakness of death. I found myself lured to it. Drawn to the raw, primal pulse of it. It was magnetic. In that moment, I was enticed by the embodiment of death and desperately searching for a way to rationalize the attraction.
He said he didn’t enjoy collections. Wait, he hadn’t said that.
Death and violence appealed to him, there was no denying it. I tore myself away, pushing back the darkness he offered, grappling for visions of fluffy puppies, playful kittens, bouncing baby goats, sunny meadows—anything to push away the darkness that was beckoning me to him.
Cirrian’s lips tugged at the corners before he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly over my jaw, sending a shiver through me. A desire for more than a graze of touch. Amusement sparked over his face at the undeniable internal battle raging in me. I put a little more space between us in case my resolve faltered.
“You said you couldn’t kill,” I pointed out softly.
“I said it was against our rules,” he corrected.
My voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “You broke the rules?”
“I broke rules because Diehle did it first. He cheated.” He sighed. “He sensed that your magic was different and it excited him. He made an offer to acquire your debt so that I’d have no interest in your well-being. He could then explore you and your magic more, without restrictions or limits,” he growled. Anger inhis expression, he took several ragged breaths that didn’t temper his emotions.
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”
He waved away the gratitude. The anger had been replaced with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re more than entertaining, you’re a show that I’m enjoying.”
I was reluctant to give in to the hope that Cirrian could become my ally. Our agendas didn’t align. There was a part of me that was convinced he’d sacrifice the release of his friends for the collection of my magic.
“Your life is mine until you fulfill your obligation. No one claims it but me.”
He turned to survey the destruction surrounding us. I’d managed to honor his wish not to look, but curiosity got the best of me, and I began to look over my shoulder.
“Kara,” he snapped.
My eyes jerked back to him, heat rising over my cheeks. “I wasn’t going to look.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Jokes on you, I’m pretty good at it.I kept that weird-ass flex to myself. It wasn’t that I was a good liar, but for my safety, I’d grown quite skilled at lies of omission and subversion.
It was torture not to look at the damage, especially with the eerie stillness. There were no signs of life. Even the waves in the pond had stopped. Even the gentle breeze rustling through the trees earlier was gone.
Cirrian turned around to face the tree and opened his hands. Two figs pulled from the branches, soared through the air, and landed in his hand. He handed them to me. Tapping a finger at the figurative ticking watch at his wrist, his bemused self-indulgent smile returned. My caution about making him an ally was warranted. Cirrian was single focused, and it appeared he wanted to remind me of it.
I snatched up my damaged jacket and headed toward the pathway over the pond Cirrian had made for me. The concerted effort he put into standing close enough to block my view of the grisly destruction he’d caused made me smile.
“Change your shirt before you go anywhere else,” he advised.
Right, I had demon goo on it. I put the fruit in my jacket pocket and dropped it to the ground again. Snatching the shirt off, I tossed it aside. Cirrian’s eyes were trained on me, his lips slightly parted. A fierce intensity shone in his eyes like embers of fire as they languidly traveled over my stomach to the satin cobalt-colored bra and lingered at the swell of my breasts. A slow, seductive smile curled his lips.
He started to say something, but for the first time seemed lost for words. It brought me immense enjoyment. Hyperaware of Cirrian’s influence over all our interactions, it was satisfying that my bold moment of immodesty had wrenched some of it away. There were no quips, antagonizing comments, or flirty rebuttals. Just silence.
I grabbed the damaged jacket, slipped it on, and quickly zipped it.
“It’s just a bra, don’t look so scandalized,” I teased.
