Page 23 of Demon Touched

“Syrus, I need you.”

Goddess, I feel despicable, summoning him like this—going back on the promise I made to both of us by leaving Infernum.

“Syrus,” I repeat, suddenly panicked that maybe he won’t hear me. That maybe he won’t come. Perhaps he’ll take one look at the mess I’ve gotten myself into and say good riddance⁠—

“Leah,” his voice murmurs into my mind, brushing up against my awareness like the soft touch of fingertips. The gentleness doesn’t last long, however, that touch growing firm and urgent as he realizes I’ve opened myself up to him.

He pushes deeper into my mind, and I feel his presence stretch out under my skin—not completely taking over, but anchoring himself more as he orients himself. He’s behind my eyes, and I sense him take note of the darkness around me, the sliver of light poking through the stones, and the scratching sound near my feet. His presence sharpens in response, and then I feel him notice the rest: the pain throbbing through my body and the racing pulse of my terrified heart.

That’s when his curiosity becomes anger, hot and blazing, and I close my eyes, clinging to hope. If he’s angry, it means he still cares…right?

“Leah,” he says my name again, and I hate how my heart responds to it even now, tilting toward it like a bird following its migration path home—knowing where it belongs, where it wants to be. “What in darkness’s name have you gotten yourself into?”

Chapter 8

Leah

The wolf tests the space it’s made by shoving its snout through the gap. It manages to reach a little deeper this time, and I have to jerk my feet back to avoid its fangs.

“Yeah, about that…” I say, wondering where to start, suddenly almost as overwhelmed by having him back inside my head as I am by being trapped between these rocks. Was our connection always this…intense?

I’m being an idiot; of course it was. I just didn’t expect to have to contend with it along with everything else my body is battling right now. There’s all this fear and pain and yet somehow there’s still room for my nerves to tingle at the touch of his presence.

“Where are you? What’s hunting you?” he demands, like he’s pacing furiously in my mind. At least he’s cutting to the chase and not asking the other questions he probably wants answers to right now—like why I left. Why I’ve been blocking him out.

“It’s a long story,” I say weakly. “But the short version is that I’m stuck in an arena with a bunch of very big, very dangerous beasts and⁠—”

The wolf pauses its digging to try to snap at me again. “And I don’t have much time to talk,” I continue. “I need you to tell that thing to back off. Please,” I add for good measure.

“I see,” he says, with excruciating slowness. “So you let your barriers down simply to use me for my magic?”

An emotion twists my gut, and I’m so jumbled up it takes me a moment to realize it’s guilt.

“Because I don’t want to be giant-ephilium-wolf dinner!” I bite back. I want to say more to defend myself, but one of the stones is really shifting now, and my other arguments die on my lips.

“Why can’t you use your pale-blood magic?” he asks, his voice hard.

The rest is unspoken, but it’s there, lying heavy between us: I chose pale-blood magic, and everything that came with it, over him.

That’s the moment the wolf chooses to shove its muzzle in far enough to sink a tooth into the toe-end of my boot, using it to try to drag me out of my hiding space. I cry out, but luckily the opening is small, and I can’t be extracted that easily. Especially when I feel a force push against my free foot—Syrus, shoving my heel against the other rock so I can brace myself. I throw my hands forward to send a spark of lightning along the wolf’s muzzle, and it releases my boot with a snarl. The snout retreats for a few seconds, giving me time to pull my leg back before it returns.

A beat of silence passes between us, and I wonder if Syrus is also thinking about the fact that we just worked together, seamlessly and easily, as if nothing has changed between us.

“I’m using my ephilium magic, but, as you can see, it isn’t enough,” I say hotly. “Not yet, anyway. And this creature isn’t exactly giving me the time to brush up on my skills. It wants blood, and it’s obviously decided I’ll be particularly delicious.”

I want to tell him to take his resentful snark and shove off if he’s not going to help me. But then he might actually do it, and I can’t afford to cling to my pride right now.

“Syrus, please,” I beg. “Whatever’s happened, you can’t want me to die like this. And if you don’t help, it will kill me.”

A ripple of emotion passes through his presence, sharp and painful, then it’s gone again.

“Of course I don’t want that,” he snaps. “I’ve been listening to its thoughts this whole time. It’s not just a case of telling it what to do—I have to be persuasive with it. Not to mention I don’t even know if I can channel that specific power through you. We never practiced it.”

“Oh.” I say the word aloud, realizing at once that he’s probably been trying to figure out how to help me since the moment he arrived in my mind, and also that if he can’t help me, I’m really fucked.

“What can I do to help you channel through me?” I ask, desperately hoping that we don’t need an object from Infernum like we did to channel his shadows and fire.

“Just stay focused on the wolf,” he says.