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“You are not your father,” I decide aloud. He’s right that I don’t know him, but I don’t have to.
Because I have the same story.
My father was cruel. He only wanted to use the women in my family and take their power.
His death had been satisfying, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Not for all that he put me through.
But now maybe I understand why I haven’t been able to pull up the memory of my revenge.
Because it is something I must experience with my mates, to share with them and help them understand that we do not have to follow in our parents’ footsteps.
We make our own paths.
And if we don’t like the person who created us, we shred them to pieces.
“Kiss me,” I demand. “And don’t stop when I show you something. I’m going to cast a spell.”
He seems to be teetering on the edge of desire, but now I’ve piqued his curiosity. “A spell?” He grins. “Is it like my arousal spell?”
Hardly, but it’ll bring us closer than lust ever could.
“You might not even want me after I show you this, but it’s a part of my past that I think I’m supposed to relive with you. Do you trust me?”
Now he’s definitely intrigued. Mischief has entered his fluidly green eyes as magic courses between us. He doesn’t know it, but having him just look at me gives me so much more power to work with.
Enough to break down the walls I’ve put up around a memory I wasn’t ready for.
“Do your worst, Ishara Doyle. I trust you through this life and the next.”
When Zyran runs his tongue over my wounded lip, I begin the spell.
And then we’re both drawn into the darkness, our bodies surrounded by the beauty of life while our souls seek death.
Chapter24
Issy
A memory from the not so distant past…
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My body is frozen as I suffocate on tubes lodged down my throat, forcing me to breathe. A machine continues to send a pulse throughout the room, irritating me.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been like this, but my soul is wandering an endless hall and is nowhere near the annoying machine. I pick up a book and thumb through it.
All the pages are empty.
This is a mental prison created for me by the patriarchs while my body ispreserved.
My stomach rolls as I locate the faraway sensations of tubes in my body and air pumping through my lungs, keeping me alive.
A powerful spell silenced me, and now an archaic machine breathes for me because I’m too weak after all of the abuse and oppressive magic.
My arm stings where a saline drip is keeping fluids regulated in my flesh, and there’s another tube running to my stomach to feed me.
I’m not supposed to notice any of this. I start to slip back into the comforting illusion until I sense a sudden disturbance.
My sister is at my side. I can feel her, but I can’t see her.
