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Jasper’s form returns a moment later, but his cheeks are sunken in and black veins swirl around his chest, concentrating on his left side.
Where his quiet heart rests.
He eases off of me and holds a pillow over his groin, giving Fallon his best smile.
“Hello, Queen of Gold and Garnet. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Fallon narrows her eyes. “Nolan. Apprehend this man.Immediately.”
The angel’s wings vanish as he approaches the vampire. “With pleasure.”
Chapter9
Jasper
I’m familiar with Nolan, one of King Kaspian’s best mercenaries. He’s an archangel with a penchant for death and better aim than me, so of course I’m an admirer of sorts.
Except now I seem to be the focus of his fatal attention.
“Big fan,” I say, waving one hand while I hold a pillow with the other over my groin.
Because I’m sure the archangel would appreciate it if I didn’t give his queen an eyeful. I’d just been about to fuck my fated mate before we were so rudely interrupted—and I’m properly equipped to do so.
But I wasn’t interrupted bythem,I remember with a frown.
Something else had happened.
One moment I was being drawn in by Ishara, like a drowning sailor responding to an irresistible siren’s call…
And the next?
I can’t remember.
Based on the look everyone is giving me, things hadn’t gone well.
Nolan reaches for me and I click my tongue. “I wouldn’t touch my skin if I were you.”
It’s not that I would intentionally use my death touch on the king’s man, but I feel… supercharged.
As if Ishara Doyle sent raw electricity through my veins. My skin still tingles, but not in a bad way.
Only my chest hurts, and upon further inspection, I realize the veins around my heart have turned black.
Which really doesn’t make sense. My heart doesn’t beat. The blood in the veins around it are drawntothe source of my magic, not expelled through it. My body collects blood and power inside the containment like a vault only I can unlock.
Ishara has cracked the surface, though, allowing a more sinister presence to seep through. One that feels a lot like dark magic, the kind that someone like Daithi O’Neely would be responsible for.
“His touch kills,” the queen informs Nolan, earning a raised brow from me.
“That’s not widely shared information, Majesty. Care to share how you know that?” I ask.
She and the witchling, who is still in bed with tousled hair, share a look.
Hmm, telepathic sisters? My death-touch power is something Ishara would be aware of, having felt my brand of magic when I touched her.
And kissed her.
And—
