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It’s entirely different from how my power works. While I’m a lighthouse, she’s amedium.
It’s not something she can turn on or off, but it’s something I could potentially temper.
My heart is still in my hand as I clutch it, willing it back together. “I’m like you, little witchling,” I say.
Just a little more.
The death plane is resisting my call, as if it doesn’t know if it should listen to me or to this witch.
She’s its child, whereas I’m simply a friend.
“Are you an ally of the patriarchs?” she asks, her words slicing through me.
She rejected me.
She’s killing me.
I hiss as the double-bladed sword wrenches through my soul. “I need you to stop talking,” I tell her.
She seems to finally find her confidence as she pushes off of the table. She wraps her fingers around my throat and shoves me against the wall.
A shelf of potions digs into my spine, sending the bottles rattling against my back. Some fall off and break, warming the room.
A fire starts in the corner, but she ignores it as she stands on her tiptoes to keep me pinned.
Normally, such a petite thing wouldn’t be a match against me, but I’m struggling not to tip over into the death plane permanently, so I allow her little tantrum.
“AndIneed you to answer my question,” she says, her silver eyes reflecting the flames building in the room.
If her voice doesn’t kill me, the fire might. I’m susceptible to it after being scarred by demonfire, and I don’t want to relive that experience again.
Releasing my heart, blood drips down my chest as I hold on to her wrist. Instant relief fills me as her magic intermingles with mine.
Her words might have rejected me, and her voice might be deadly, but herbodyis life itself.
Finding my lifeline, I bring her closer. She squeaks with surprise as I press as much of her skin to mine as I can.
“These clothes are a bother,” I tell her, using my teeth to shred the strip at her shoulder.
“I-I rejected you,” she protests, but she shivers when I push my thigh between her legs.
She could step away.
She could use the thousand potions and a variety of spells to dismantle me if she really wanted to. Her power is incredible, but I recognize her strength as a witch, too.
More than just her voice is deadly.
Her mind is a weapon, too.
“You did,” I confirmed, grazing my lips over hers.
I don’t truly kiss her, not in the way I want to.
It’s a test, and she passes beautifully when her mouth parts, opening to mine.
Something inside of me is dampening the effects of her voice, as well as her rejection.
It could be the impact of the connection we share to the death plane, or something I don’t yet understand.
