Page 137 of Mate of a Monster

“The mage broke what I wanted her to break.” She spreads her hands, and the dark water rises behind her in a slow wave. “Did you really think I’d tether myself to a king without building in a few…redundancies? Creed’s forbidden magic was so beautifully unstable. All I had to do was weave a secondary thread before he finished his work. Something finer. Something designed to survive the severance.”

Creed makes a sound like he’s been stabbed.

“You—” His voice cracks. “You used my magic to—”

“I improved your magic.” Arabella shrugs. “Your bond was crude. Obvious. Easy to target. Mine is woven so deep into his chest that removing it would tear out everything attached to it.” Her eyes find Legend. “Including her.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. The Nightkin throws itself against the inside of my skin, howling with a rage that blisters through my veins. Through the bond, I feel Legend—his horror, his shame, and underneath both, the sickening lurch of something inside him that still responds to her.

That still wants to obey.

No. No, no, no—

“Fight it,” I whisper, and I don’t know if I’m talking to him or to myself. “Legend, fight it—”

He tries.

I feel him reach for his power, feel the dark smoke of the Nightkin, and for one beautiful second the bond blazes hot and furious between us.

Then it chokes.

The pale thread pulses sharply, and Legend’s power stutters to a stop. The smoke collapses back into my chest, and he makes a sound of pure frustration.

Arabella watches it happen with the satisfied expression of someone who’s seen this show before.

“There it is,” she murmurs. “Every time you reach for full force, the thread pulls you back. It’s not strong enough to control you anymore, Legend. But it’s strong enough to cripple.” She tilts her head. “Strong enough to make sure you can never use your power against me.”

Proximity.

We fed right into her hand. She needed him close to refire that connection and I hand-delivered my mate right to her.

Zev meets my gaze and I try to hide the self-hatred, but he misses nothing.

He moves first.

He doesn’t announce himself, or waste time with threats. He launches forward, blades raised high, and for one heartbeat I think he’s actually going to reach her.

Arabella’s hand comes up.

The dark water behind her surges. A wave slams into Zev before he gets within ten feet. He hits the ravine wall hard enough to crack stone, blades spinning away into the dark.

He doesn’t get up.

“Zevryn!” Creed starts toward him, but Arabella’s already turning, and the water rises between them like a wall.

“Ah, ah.” She wags a finger, and the gesture is so casual it makes my vision rim in black. “Stay where you are, architect. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Creed freezes.

I feel his shame spike, feel the weight of what he’s done crashing down on him in real time. He built the original bond. He gave her the tools.

Creed’s eyes catch mine, as if he heard my thoughts, but I only shake my head, hoping he gets the message. Don’t let her in your head.

“You bitch.” The words rip from my mouth. “You absolute fucking bitch—”

Arabella’s attention returns to me, and her smile softens. “There she is. The little witch who couldn’t mind her fucking business so I could keep the mate who should have been mine. The crown that belongs on an Argent’s head.” She takes another step forward, and the air grows colder around her. “Then again, if you hadn’t come to Rathe to begin with, I guess I would have never known. I should thank you, actually, for showing me exactly how much he had to give. How much of him was…reachable.” Her eyes gleam. “It helped me refine the thread. Make it stronger. Make it permanent.”

The Nightkin roars inside my chest.