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“Uh, Violare Alium. It literally means to violate another.”
“Lame. LBS is way better.”
“I—”
“Just go with it,” Draven interrupted. “It’s for the best.”
“I … alright.”
Circe would die if she heard Lyric’s suggestion. I could picture her pompous face of contempt. I’d been on the receiving end of it enough the image was tattooed on my brain. Maybe I would call it LBS, after all.
“Phalen, are you sure you want to volunteer for this?” I asked. He was already wincing like he was braced for impact. This may have been my awful idea, but I would never attempt it against his wishes.
“Yup. Let’s get this over with.”
I checked the Shadow Lord’s face for any sign of hesitation. Phalen was the commander of his army, after all, as well as his close friend.
“Give it a go,” Draven supported. “We’ll intervene if necessary”
I shoved past the last of my apprehension and closed my eyes. My mind reached for the memories holding what I needed, thumbing through them like pages in a book.
The hitch in the witch’s voice. Circe’s glib-tongued replies. The smell of the leather-bound book in my hands. Circe’s face when I launched it at her head.
Too far. I latched onto the scent of the notebook.
The soft texture of the cover. Yellowed pages rustling under my fingertips. The familiar slant of my mother’s script. Letters forming words …Details came flooding back.
There!
Less than a page in length, the innocuous-looking paragraphs revealed their heinous secret. Now all I had to do was follow the instructions, and preferably not lose all self-respect in the process.
I imagined the source of both sides of my magics pouring into a single deep well, filling with white and gold liquids. I touched the surface, telling the supply what I needed–to be able to surround Phalen, to inundate his senses and his nervous system so they could both be bent to my will.
It bubbled in response. I pulled on that well of compounded power, just a little, until I was confident I had a firm grip.
My palms came up, directed at my target. Power swelled, flying out of the well and building as it traveled into my hands. I held it there, steadily pulling more and more from the source.
With each passing second, it became more difficult to draw. My head swam and left behind a wake of nausea. I needed to get my balance and bearings back.
I forced my eyes to open, right away seeing Phalen bathed in a soft light. Confused, I looked between us, confirming that I had not released anything into him.
“It’s your eyes,” Casimir explained, sounding like he was speaking through a tunnel. “They’re glowing. You’re emitting a lot of light all over.”
I accepted his observation and continued with the extraction. The well fought my hold and I yanked, shaking with the strain of it, hauling more. My hands became balls of white fire. I quaked from head to toe. Wetness trickled from my eyes and nose. Then my ears.
Unable to remain upright, I dropped to one knee. Scuffling arose in the background of my awareness. I fell down into a deep hole, down to the bottom of the well, picking up only echoes of my surroundings. I looked down. An inch of that gilded fluid was all that remained.
Hmm …
“Stab her,” a deep voice ordered.
“Not yet. Release it, Raven. Quickly!” another shouted.
A flood of impassioned emotion coursed through the mate bond, busting through the false reality I’d created inside my head.
“Fucking release it now!” my mate roared.
I unleashed the concentrated reserve and collapsed to all fours, coughing and fighting for air. Someone lightly touched the center of my back.
