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The pain of a fated-mate rejection is only compounding the effect, but I didn’tallowher to reject me.
She didn’t get to know me.
She didn’t give me a chance to tell her.
So I’ll show you, little witchling.
I refuse to die. I refuse to lose my fated mate, not once I finally found her.
Fate led you to me.
You’remine.
You underestimate me if you think a little death is going to stop me, darling.
I growl as shove my nails into my skin, digging until I finally touch my heart.
It’s frozen under my touch, which would normally be concerning even for a vampire.
But I’m a hybrid, and that makes me unique. I’m an immortal intertwined with the magic of death and necromancy.
I was born this way, without a heartbeat, but with a soul. And even if my heart doesn’t contract, it’s still a vault for blood.
And magic.
I tap into my gift. She can bring a soul to death’s door, but so can I.
And I can reverse the pull into the afterlife just as easily as I can enforce it.
She locks onto my gaze as she watches me struggle on the precipice of life and death.
She’s dropped her useless dagger and now her fingers clutch the edge of the table. Her knuckles are white as she waits, frozen, to watch me die.
Or watch me overcome.
Fear and fascination are a beautiful concoction in her silver gaze. I see the moment when she doubts I’ll succumb.
Because I growl—it’s a sound infused with a demand, with mypower, and it makes the room’s temperature plummet.
Frost crinkles on pages of open books and sends them curling. Her eyelashes are dusted with ice, framing her silver gaze in frozen lace.
She doesn’t shiver. She doesn’t seem bothered at all by the cold.
Because this is a communion with the death plane. I can’t travel there, but my body itself is a lighthouse on the shore of souls.
It calls them to me and bridges the two worlds.
I don’t pretend to understand how the magic works, or why it makes my touch call forth death—or banish it.
Instinct is what guides me, and right now my instinct is telling me to bring this little witch to heel.
“Whatareyou?” she breathes.
Her words still impact me and threaten to splinter my heart in two.
I survive it only because I’m understanding the effect better now.
She has no control over her gift at all. Her voice itself seems to be linked to the death plane.
