Page 49 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

The amulet goes white-hot, and I raise my hand against her attack. She collides with me, and we crash to the floor. Her weight bears down on me, digging into my flesh. Her knee in my stomach, her forearm across my throat.

I can’t breathe.

I press my hand to her face, knowing it won’t do any good, but it’s the only part of her skin I can reach.

Until she starts screaming.

She scrambles off me and flops on her side. Her back arches. She screams like her lungs are burning, continuing even after my hand has fallen away.

I stare at her from the floor, absolutely bewildered. My throat aches, but it’s nothing compared to whatever she’s going through.

Kian hauls me up. He releases me just as fast, swearing under his breath.

“Get her out of here,” he orders, pointing to his sister.

Two men rush forward and grip Jessamine under her arms. They haul her toward the door. Not fast enough for me, though.

“She burned me,” Jessamine shrieks. She lowers her hand, which had covered the side of her face.

There’s a red mark—a burn, true enough—coloring her tanned cheek and jaw.

In the shape of a handprint.

The door swings shut behind them, and my gaze slowly lifts. Kian’s one hand is balled into a fist. But his other palm is red, too, where he grabbed me.

“Anyone else doubt my decision?” Kian booms.

Silence.

“Then get out of my sight.”

They scurry to comply. I watch them all rush away, until it’s just Kian and me.

“Astra,” he says in a low voice.

I force myself to look at him.

He opens his hand. His palm is burned. The skin is… gods, it’s practically melted. As I watch, the skin seems to knit itself back together. Within seconds, there’s no trace of injury. I don’t know what to do with that except shiver in fear.

What use is my power against him if he can heal that quickly? How could I possibly get the upper hand when I’ll lose it just as fast?

The real mystery is how I burned them both.

He leans in. I don’t think he’ll touch me, but I’m proven wrong when he grips the back of my neck.

“What did I promise you, witch? About using magic?”

“I don’t know what happened. She attacked me. Maybe the amulet…” I shake my head, fear bleeding through my voice. I reveal the purple stone. I shouldn’t, because it’s obviously powerful enough to keep me safe. Or warn me of danger, at the very least.

“Or you’re more powerful than you think,” he replies. “In which case, you’re more of a danger than I thought. You’ve got no control.”

I wrinkle my nose and lean back, but his grip on my neck only tightens. Maybe he’ll make good on his threat to make my death twice as painful. Whenever that happens.

“On that note, I don’t think I’m going to be very much help to you on the whole blood witch thing.” I shrug. “Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t apologize until you know how I plan to use you.”

You know what? That’s a fair statement.