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That explains my jealousy, even if I hate the irrational part of me for feeling that way.
We’re not a boy band that requires matching tattoos.Even if these fools think otherwise.
“Zoe,” Eirik says slowly, but then doesn’t finish his thought. He looks around the room, getting one nod from Mael and three headshakes from Ciar, Ryes, and Etrix before sighing. It looks like he’s going to share anyway, and it’s surprising thatMaelof all people was on his side to betray Zoe’s secrets. “We know what type of witch Zoe is.”
“So why are you all playing the facade of not knowing?” I demand. Do they truly have so little respect for other people’s time?Mytime? “It doesn’t help anyone, and is a massive waste of resources.”
“Because she’s a soul witch,” Necos says, looking at her with a grim smile. My heart drops as a ringing occurs in my ears. The words ‘soul witch’ are echoing in my brain as I look at the tiny body of my mate, and try to imagine her as a dangerous force. “She’s rare, and powerful, and—”
“And they kill soul witches off,” Ciar says, glaring at me like I’m the one who does it. Like I’m the threat to our mate.What a fucking idiot.
I might hate the hold that she has on me, but I’d never risk her life.
I’d never risk our bond.
“Her kind is extinct, and she’s the last one we know about. There’s nobody around to teach her, nobody around to explain all the weird shit that’s happening to her,” Ciar continues.
“But nobody will touch her,” Mael says, his voice menacing as his nose twitches on one side in a snarl, his stance widening as his brown eyes assess me cruelly, and his golden runes light up. “Not without getting through me first.”
I gape at him, and he flexes his arms, causing them to ripple. He looks so scary right now. So fucking dangerous. Ryes is looking at them longingly, and I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels jealous.
Fuck, I sound ridiculous for agreeing with Ryes of all people.
I drop down onto the sofa, panic radiating through me as the words finally sink in. It’s like my brain finally kicks into gear and I understand the words.
“She’s a soul witch,” I whisper.
Holy fucking shit. It all makes sense.
Everything makes sense. Her power, her struggles, her unique way of doing things.
Her connection to the plants. How happy they are when she’s around.
She’s power in its purest form. She’s fucking perfect, and I’ve wasted her time by not utilising the gifts that she’s been given.
There’s a sudden shift in the air, and we all turn to look at our mate, knowing it could only have come from her.
Holy shit.
Her eyes fly open, and Zohar darts back from her body because we all notice at the same time that they’re wrong. They’re not her usual beautiful blue. Like mine, and every other man in this room, she’s being channelled by her magicae. Her eyes are pure gold, and they’re magnetising.
She’s not in control right now, and it seems to me she’s not even trying to be. Herprimordiumis running on empty, and her magicae is making a last-ditch effort to save her.
Her soul, her inner being, is driving her to complete her bonds to save her life.
In a language that nobody other than our magicae can understand, she calls to us. She’s like a siren luring the men to their deaths.
It’s a song that’s addictive, and strong.
One I can’t ignore.
I drop to my knees, my head tilting back as I watch the woman in front of me gather power. She starts floating as we all drop to our knees and watch her.
The spell she’s weaving is tying all eight of us together, as well as tying us to her. We’re all here. Nobody could have withheld this pull.
So why does it feel like something is still missing?
“Mine, mine, mine,” she chants, her golden magicae weaving around us all.“Anima animae meae.”
