Page 66 of Feral Possession

Holy cow, the lycan moved fast. No wonder he was Marcus’s bodyguard. Thank goodness the barrier held. She’d hate for him to take a magical bullet for her. “Right as rain.” She shot Shadow a furious look. He glared back at her, unapologetic.

“Best hurry this along,” Bishop said, then gave her some space.

She held out her hands again, dipping deep into her well of power. In the mystical plane only she could see, there were two distinct spirits. While separate, dozens of threads linked them. It was up to her to sever those connections.

Gathering her energy, she clamped a tether around each one. Round and round, tighter and tighter. When both were secure, she squeezed her hands into fists. “Okay, I’ve got them. Now, to separate the two. Ready, Bishop?”

“Ready.”

Power built at her center, rising up from her chest. “Here goes.” She grasped the two spirits and tugged. The threads between them strained, stretched to their limits.

“Arrgh!” Screaming came from the bed, though it was hard to tell if it was Marcus or Shadow.

“Again, Dove,” Bishop growled.

“Got it.” She braced her feet and pulled her fists apart, her arms quivering. Tighter. Harder. Several of the connections snapped, others fraying.

Shadow-Steele thrashed. “No!” He snarled. “Stay!”

The pain in his voice brought tears to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, try harder,” Bishop barked like a drill sergeant.

“Okay. Okay. I can’t rip them apart like a shifty Hollywood divorce lawyer, you know. It takes finesse.” She gritted her teeth and pulled her shaking fists farther apart. Another inch. Threads snapped, mystical connections shattering.

“Shit. Dove, stop. Something’s happening.”

She cracked her eyes open, peered at the bed, and gasped. Marcus’s damaged skin smoldered, his breathing ragged. “Ahhh!” he screamed, his face contorted. The stench of scorched flesh hit her nose.

“He’s burning,” she cried.

“Just like he did the night of the explosion,” Bishop said, expression dark with torment. “It’s like he’s regressing.”

Only this time, instead of Helen inflicting pain, it was Dove. Bile burned her throat. “Shadow was right. We’re killing him.”

Bishop scrubbed the back of his neck. The medallion on his chest glowed, a sure sign his beast was agitated. He paced around the circle to the head of the bed. “His pulse is weak. I don’t know how much more he can take.”

“Don’t stop,” Marcus said through clenched teeth. “Keep going.”

He stared at her with clear eyes. His face a tight mask of agony. In his straining features, she found no sign of the demon. “You have to keep going.”

“Marcus, I can’t. You’ll die.”

“Do it!” he snarled, head thrashing, charred skin blistering.

Her heart twisted, her mind torn. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she tightened her grip on the two spirits. One more tug and she’d tear them apart, likely destroying them both in the process. Was that what Marcus really wanted? Had he set her up to be his executioner?

In her gut, she sensed the truth. He believed her malleable. Someone he could bend to his will. An empty-headed faerie with fathomless power at her fingertips. The perfect weapon to aim at his head if things didn’t go to plan. Still, he could give her orders until he was hoarse. For all the control he thought he had over her, the decision to pull that trigger was hers and hers alone.

To destroy life was easy.

To preserve it, much harder.

“Stay,” Shadow-Steele snarled, rising to the forefront again. Perhaps sensing how close he was to losing his foothold on his host as well as his existence.

“What should I do?” She peered at Bishop.

The lycan stared down at his convulsing friend. Remorse in his eyes. “I think you know.”

---