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22
Bronywyn
“What is this big plan of yours?” Chasin questions from where he perches on my bed. I stare out over the city, half of me wondering when I should make my next move, and the other half trying not to wonder whether or not Tarnley survived once he left here yesterday.
“Why would you ever think I’d share with you?” I glance over my shoulder at him, and he pats the mattress beside him.
“Come sit with me.” The charming grin on his face combined with his studio good looks have no doubt lured many unsuspecting women—supernatural and human alike—to bed. But not this one.
“No, thanks.”
“Come on, Bronywyn, why does it always have to be work with you?”
“Because I have zero interest in you sexually.”
“Ouch.” The blankets rustle behind me moments before Chasin’s bare feet pad near silently on my floor. He comes to stand beside me, unscathed hands gripping the railing of my balcony.
This is one warlock who has literally never seen a fight. I’ve known him for centuries, and even when his brother was getting ready to be executed, he stood by and shrugged it off—even said that he’d made his bed and now it was time to lie in it.
He’s a coward. And I’d be willing to bet he’d sell out his own mother—if she were still alive—if it would benefit him in any way. I grip the railing while the shadow magic inside me continues looking for any way out. It’s been like this ever since yesterday, slithering beneath the surface of my skin and looking for any possible way to break free.
“I’m guessing it has something to do with that bloodsucker you saved yesterday, huh? And seeing as how you didn’t get me any of his blood to reinforce the spell—”
“It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you are a snake in the grass just waiting to strike if it will save your own miserable ass,” I interrupt.
Instead of being offended, Chasin throws his head back and laughs. “And yet, I am the one you came to.”
“Because you owe me, and as it happens, you are the oldest warlock I know of.”
“Fair, on both accounts, but perhaps it also has something to do with lingering feelings toward a certain warlock? One that shares my features perhaps?” He reaches forward and touches my arm. The magic in me flares to life before I can stop it.
Temper snapping, I whirl on him, closing my hand around his throat and slamming him back into the wall in one smooth move. “I will kill you.”
Eyes practically bulging out of his head, he looks utterly terrified.
He should be. They all should be.
His hands claw at mine, trying desperately to free himself, and all I can think about is how much quieter my evening would be if he weren’t here.
He’s already fixed the amulet. Not that it does me any good now that they already know I’m here, but I don’t need him anymore. All I’d have to do is squeeze, and his throat would be crushed.
One moment alive.
The next…not.
The thought plays out through my mind, but just as his face begins to turn a deep shade of purple, I release him, and he falls to the ground, gasping for air. “Touch me again, and I’ll make good on my threat to chop off your dick and feed it to you.”
I step over him and head back into the house, grabbing my keys on the way down. Ever since I hit nineteen and came into my power, I’ve been able to feel the magic in my veins. It was always more akin to a soft trickle, a stream easily dammed if I chose not to use it.
But ever since I took in the shadow magic, that stream has turned into rapids, and with each passing day, it’s becoming more and more difficult to control it.
After climbing behind the wheel of my car, I turn over the ignition and peel out of the drive, not really giving a shit if Chasin is still there when I get back. Right now, I need to blow off some steam, and it’s either I rip him apart or find some other supernatural to magically castrate.
The minutes tick by as I make my way to my destination, wind whipping hair around my face as music blasts through my speakers. The night air is warm around me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel completely and utterly free.
Free of the chains binding me to those I once called friends.
And free of the bond holding me to Tarnley. Of course, the latter is merely a wish rather than reality. Unfortunately, unless I decide to let him die, I’ll be tethered to him for life. Then again, he pulls some shit like he did the other night again, and I will kill him with my own two hands.
