“She’sstanding right here,” I reminded them.
Both pairs of eyes turned to me.
“Who am I releasing?”
Larkin unleashed a new round of incredulous glares at Cirrian and then turned them on me. It was softened by what I assumed was his understanding that the vow had been made under duress.
“I have it handled,” Cirrian said, moving closer to place a reassuring hand on Larkin’s shoulder. “Don’t ask any further. I need you to trust me.”
Larkin gave a heavy sigh. “I trust that it will be handled. But I’m not sure it will be without consequences. You’ve broken so many rules.”
“One rule and bent another.” Cirrian’s smile unfurled with a confidence that could ease anyone into assurance. It seemed to melt Larkin’s reservations.
Larkin offered me a languid wave and a wan smile before he was gone, leaving me shouting to an empty space, “Who am I releasing?”
Forcing my jaw to unclench, I spun to face Cirrian. “You’re a liar and I’m not releasing anyone until I get answers!”
Smug. Haughty. Duplicitous. All the things were filling my head as I stalked toward Cirrian, becoming increasingly pissed off at the self-satisfied curl of his lip.
I forgot powerful. Our bond pulsed to life.Calm down, little minx,he coaxed gently in my head, startling me into a rooted position.
“You didn’t tell me you could do that, either.”
“I told you I don’t bond often. Sometimes I forget the extent of its abilities.”
“The ones you were aware of you conveniently kept from me. Don’t pretend like it wasn’t intentional.”
“It wasn’t necessary to disclose them because I had no intention of using them. It was a moot point. There was no need to have you worry needlessly that I would exploit them.”
“Stay out of my head and don’teverread my thoughts.”
“Kara.” My name was spoken in a deep, tantalizing rumble. “I have nothing to do with me being in your head.” His eyes darkened. I looked at my arm, expecting his mark to have blazed to life, explaining the heat rising beneath my skin, gliding over me. His roving gaze took in every inch of me, resting at the hollow of my throat, moving to my face, which I knew showed the effort I was putting into trying to ignore my response to him. His gaze lingered on my bottom lip, gripped between my teeth. How easily his saying my name awakened the memory of his touch, the lure of his magic and being, and the need to answer the hunger in his eyes.
Tearing my eyes from him, I looked at Amelia. “If you ever compel me or hijack my magic, I’m done with you.”
A cruel amusement put an edge on his words. “Kara, what power do you have to enforce that?”
It was a sobering reality. Death stood before me with powerful magic, remarkable resources, and the capability of unspeakable violence. All I had was locked omni-magic and tenacity.
His words hung in the air. I took several breaths, but the weight of his words reignited my anxiety.
“I don’t have any means to enforce it. I’m asking you to honor my request because it’s the right thing to do. I’ll do whatever is necessary to pass the Spellrend and release your friends. You should know that I don’t respond well to being kept in the dark. I already feel betrayed by my parents and hurt that they have left me woefully unprepared for this world. Parts of my life will remain a mystery because of that.” When I finally looked at Cirrian, his expression had flattened.
“I possess magic that I don’t have access to. To save my best friend, I made a deal with you, using my life as collateral. I’ve made a lot of concessions. I’d do it again without hesitation. But you having unlimited access to my thoughts, and being ableto compel me or use my magic as you wish, makes me feel vulnerable. Dealing with you makes me feel powerless. I’m not used to feeling that way. I hate it.” My admission softened my voice to a whisper. I’d just metaphorically bared my neck to Cirrian. I hoped he wouldn’t use it as an opportunity to rip out my throat.
He extended his hand to me. Once I took it, he said, “You have my word that I won’t invade your mind, compel you, or use your magic,” he said in a solemn whisper. His words held the weight of a binding oath.
“Thank you.” I kept my hold of his hand. “Who am I releasing?”
He sighed. “The lycans.” His thumb made featherlight strokes over my skin as he relaxed into my grip.
“Lycans. As in werewolves?” Underwhelmed, it took a great deal to withhold my retort of “we got them at home.”
He’d been searching for an ashinwa to release mid supernaturals. They had the ability to change into wolves upon command, possessed preternatural speed and strength, and immunity to magic in their animal form, but compared to the shadow gods’ abilities, they didn’t seem remarkable enough to warrant the undertones of reverence in Cirrian’s voice.
“Our lycans are nothing like yours. Yours are like Samoyeds in comparison. Even that is unfair. I’ll give your werewolves the dignity of not comparing them to Pomeranians.”
Calling Terran a Pomeranian was a good way to find out how fast an Alpha could pack you up for your disrespect. I was positive he’d try, even with a shadow god.
