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“Oh, my love” Dravens voice was tight with emotion as he stepped into view to look down at her. The cut on his wrist was already healing as he gently, ever so softly, brushed her hair from her eyes. “This never gets easier”
Taking a deep breath, she ignored him. There was no way in hell she was going to make this make it ok.
She kept her eyes on the glass ceiling, trying to expressionless. This morning, she thought she loved this man. And even though it was a spell and even though she knew it all been a lie. She still couldn’t help the sting of betrayal that flooded over her.
“I know you don’t understand” his voice was low, laden with a sadness meant only for her ears. His fingers tracing over the curve of her cheek. “I have always loved you, and I will always love you. “
Turning her head to look at him, her stomach churning, she frowned. “You do not understand what love is” she was proud that her voice didn’t waver. That the fear coiling through her didn’t crack through her words.
Taking the chalice from the chief priest, Draven shook his head as he dipped his finger into the combined blood.
“A sacrifice without loss is no sacrifice.” Pressing his bloodied finger to her forehead, he traced out a demonic symbol. “I give the thing I have loved the most. You,”
“Once wasn’t enough? You had to keep killing me?”
His hand trembled for a moment as his dark eyes stared into hers. His expression tortured as he met her accusing gaze.
“This is the last time, beloved,” voice wavering, his finger pausing against her skin. “The last sacrifice. After this, you can finally rest.”
Her blood ran cold at his words as his wet fingers lowered to the tops of her breasts. He continued tracing symbols on her skin, his fingers dipping again into the blood, as he drew the demonic glyphs down one arm, then the other.
Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers. Twisting her head away to the side, she glared up at him. “I hate you. “
“I will miss you, every day” the grief on his face was icing over into deadly resolve. Watching his dark eyes grow cold, Talia bit her lip. Pressing a kiss against her forehead, his lips moving against her skin.
“Farewell beloved wife,”
Alone, she stared up at the glass ceiling, wanting to see the stars beyond the clouds. A deep, desperate dread curling through her as Draven’s voice joined the dark covens. His chant leading them as the magic circle flared to life, extending over the entire room like a glowing dome. The barrier solidifying as the voices rose together. A powerful circle locking all out but the demon they were summoning.
The bite of the knife blade cutting into her wrist made her whole body jolt.
The warm blood running down the curve of her forearm, dripping onto the stone black marble beneath her.
“Ghost, remove her bodice,”
Blocking the sight of the sky overhead, Ghost stepped forward. Her movements were slow and jerky. Her claws sliding delicately over the lace of Talia’s wedding her dress. A small line of blood springing to her skin as the lingerie was sliced open. Tears spilling down her face, Ghost pulled back the fragile material, exposing Talia’s breasts. Even if Ghost wasn’t here, her magic wasn’t enough to escape. She wasn’t powerful enough to rain a shit storm down in this room. She was going to die.
All she wanted was to tell her grandmother how much she loved her. She had not understood that the phone call would be the last time she would hear her grandmother’s voice. She should have told her she loved her.
Unable to look at Ghost’s face, Talia lifted her eyes to gaze at the sky above her. The clouds drifting apart as the full moon’s light bathed her in its glow through the layered glass of the roof.
Her body tingling as a slow warmth built. Her heart quickening its beat, every nerve awakening for what felt like the first time as the warmth turned to an almost burning heat.
His blood, Lycan blood, merged with hers, scorching through her veins. Every sense expanding. Reaching out for him. For Hyde.
Just the thought of his name brought an ache that almost eclipsed the pain of the knife cutting into her other wrist.
As impossible as she knew it to be, she almost expected to see him. To see his red demonic eyes coming for her. Saving her one last time.
The chanting of the room growing all around her as the power swelled with every infernal syllable.
Stepping into her line-of-sight, Draven held his arms out wide. Gone was the wedding attire. His chest and back were now bare as two acolytes stood, using the blood flowing down her arms to paint demonic symbols over his flesh. His lips spilling the demonic foreign words, his dark eyes fully black as a vile energy rose to his call. Caressing over her skin as it curled around her.
Dread made real.
Her new husband’s voice faded into the background as she stared transfixed at the moon. Its burning light seemed to call her in a way that made her heart beat faster and hunger churn within her. An unknown force tugged at her soul and an almost unbearable sense of need, stronger than anything she had ever felt before, overwhelmed her.
He was coming for her.
