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Grant reached into the bag slung across his body to pull out an ornately decorated knife, one with a far larger blade than I was comfortable with. “I need to bind the ward to you. Blood speaks to blood the best.”
I held my hand against my side. If he seriously thought I was going to let himcutme, he was bat-shit-crazy. “The whole point of this was to keep me safe. I’ll probably get tetanus from that thing.”
Grant waved me over, as if that motion alone would convince me to stop arguing and do as he requested. “I don’t need much. Don’t be a baby.”
“I don’t think not wanting some weirdo to slice me open is being a baby.”
“I’m not trying to slice you open. I just need a couple of drops. You won’t even need a Band-Aid when I’m done.”
I gritted my teeth, but that seemed reasonable. Gran had told me blood was a common element to magic, but I hadn’t planned on it ever beingmyblood being used.
After tapping my foot on the ground, I came over. He held his hand out, and I placed mine in his.
Grant’s hand was warm and surprisingly strong. Mages were physically as frail as humans, using their magic as their main offense and defense. It meant they weren’t incredibly fast, strong or tough like the other beings in their world. Perhaps that was why it surprised me to find his grasp so solid.
It distracted me well enough that I missed when he brought the knife closer, and when he sliced it along my palm, it took a moment for the pain to catch up.
And when it did? I tried to yank away but again—that grip. Grant slipped the blade into his bag in a practiced move then held my hand—palm down—over the threshold. He spoke in a language I didn’t recognize, the words as smooth as if he had said them a hundred times. Blood dripped from my palm and spilled on the concrete of the small porch.
I yanked away, cradling my bloodied hand to my stomach. “What the fuck?”
Grant lifted his hands, though the one he’d used to restrain me was covered in my blood, which wasnotas reassuring as he probably meant the action to be. “Sorry, but that’s how it had to be.”
“You know cutting someone’s palm is incredibly stupid! It makes using your hand harder and there are far more nerve endings there, so it hurts more than if you did the forearm. You are the worst mageever.”
He chuckled. “That’s why we do it there. Everything requires a sacrifice, a give and take. You were getting protection, so you needed to give blood and pain. You can feel it, though, can’t you? How the spell connects to you through the blood?”
I frowned, stretching my hand and closing it into a fist, ignoring the wetness of the blood. “No. I didn’t feel anything other than you cutting me. You clearly screwed it up.”
He paused, closed his eyes, then shook his head. “No, it’s working. You really can’t sense it? It should have hurt when it formed.”
“Well, it didn’t.”
He pressed his lips together. “Strange. Well, it still worked, so you don’t have any reason to be annoyed.”
“That isn’t the point. You can’t go slicing people open without even asking them.”
“If I’d told you I needed to cut open your palm, you’d have complained. I’ve found that when something needs to be done, it’s better to just do it rather than waste time arguing.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter at all to him.
“I revoke your invitation,” I snapped.
He cracked a wide smile as though I’d just charmed him. “Sorry, but it doesn’t work with me. I set the ward, so it automatically allows me through.”
“And you just failed to mention that either.”
“I prefer not talking about things that might get me into trouble. If you didn’t like it, you’d complain, and didn’t we just have a talk about how I feel about complaining?”
I curled my hands into fists. He was a mage, which meant if I punched him, he’d at least feel it.
Self-preservation kept me from doing it. Even though Grant didn’t seem the kind to turn me into a smoking pile of ash for one little punch, he certainlycoulddo it if he wanted.
Instead of risking that, I opened the front door and pointed.
“What?” Grant shifted his gaze from the door to me and back again, as if he couldn’t work out the meaning.
“Leave.”
“You can’t be serious. One little cut and you throw me out?”
