Page 155 of Bound By Fury

When I take a step back, confusion tugs in the middle of his brows before he steps forward. I step back. He steps forward. Until my shoulder blades are brushing against the hard bark of a large maple tree.

I glance around, assessing my positioning.

Perfect.

He cages me in, his hands resting on either side of my face. I hold my breath, barely stopping myself from shrinking just to gain a second to think.

“Harper.” His voice is mocking. Cruel. “I never lied to you. I told you from the very beginning that you didn’t belong at this school. I warned you every chance I got. But you’re so fucking stubborn and hardheaded and you don’t listen. That’s not my fault.”

I shake my head, lifting my hand to rest against his chest—it’s so hard, rising and falling so fast that my own breath quickens in response.

A different kind of darkness flashes in his eyes.

“You’re a hunter,” I say, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

“And you’re a witch.”

There. We’ve said it.

There’s a war playing on his face, and I know that in this moment he is torn between two things. Whether to kiss or kill me.

It’s a good thing I don’t have that same dilemma.

“So, what now?” I ask, the rage still ever present, the magic unfurling inside me.

“You know what you have to do.”

Vertigo spins the world beneath my feet.

“What?” I ask, reaching toward his face. “Hey, look at me, we don’t have to do this.” I trace the stubble on his cheek with my fingers, dragging one across his bottom lip. “We’re stronger than them. We don’t have to play the parts they’ve written for us.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that…” His eyes dart back down to my lips as I run my tongue over them. “The second you stepped foot back in Earnest, you left me no choice.”

“Don’t do this,” I plead, forcing myself to not look over his shoulder, to not search for my accomplice.

I coat my skin in my power, wrap it around myself like armor.

Where is Lucas?

Malachi lowers his head, his lips almost grazing mine. “Your magic. I can smell it on you. The way you coat yourself in it. Like that will protect you. Like it doesn’t call to me, sing to me, beg me.

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” he whispers in my ear—and that’s it, any tenuous hold I had on my magic slips. Every evening practicing my control over my power in my room, every moment of suppression, kneading the golden rope into a ball that grew tighter and tighter until it was imprinted on the fabric of me. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine. And I will wield it as such… as long as those witches stay out of it. I shield my eyes against the blinding bolt that flows from my hand and into the ground.

Into the ground?

My head snaps toward the empty space where Malachi had once been. Shock ricochets through me, but I have no time to process. A hand snakes into my hair, gripping it and throwing me to the ground. I hit the cold forest floor with a thump and roll, gasping for the air that’s been stolen from me. Panic explodes inside my chest as I pull myself up.

Crouching, I find Malachi facing me. He raises his hands, ready to fight.

“Did you think I couldn’t see right through you?” He shakes his head, disappointment pulling down the sides of his mouth. “I know you better than that, Harper.”

I roll up my sleeves as I stand. “You’re wrong. Maybe you’ve doubted me. My power. But that’s on you. Just remember, you chose this!”

I call upon the water that rests beneath the ground, remnants from the storm that recently passed. The storm I caused. Internally I marvel at the way my power bends for me, twists and digs into the earth, sourcing the water and pulling it. It seems as though something inside me has broken wide open.

I feel stronger.

More in control.