Page 11 of Twisted Bonds

It’s dark inside, no moonlight or streetlamps to light the way. Waiting for my vision to adjust, I peer around cautiously, noting the barrels of wax and lovely herbals waiting to be made into candles.

Maybe if I just look at the brand, then I could find it again…

A figure stirs in the shadows.

I stand completely still, my heart racing.

It’s a fae.

Whoever this is, he looks like a human’s vision of Dracula. Dark hair frames his pale face. Cheekbones that could cut glass and a jaw that’s angular like Sunder’s. However, where Sunder is Captain America, this guy is much more Loki. A well-dressed, manicured Loki. He looks like a snake, coiled in the darkness. I shake my head, willing the memories of hours spent lying in Mira’s lap watching Marvel movies to float away.

Is he the one who brought the Yurghen smell in?

I don’t think he’s noticed me. He’s fiddling with some things on a workbench that are up too high for me to see. He’s tall; I’ll give him that. I guess he’s handsome too, in a sort of dangerous-sexy way.

I’m not so dense that I can’t see that. I press myself low against the ground and crawl forward. He’s moving around between benches. Is he making the candles? No, he can’t be doing that. He strides purposefully away, and I freeze.

Where did he go?

My feet make no noise as I sneak forward. I put one paw up, then another. The Yurghen smell is powerful now. Large leather-bound tomes are piled on one table. Is that where it’s coming from? Is he…

A hand grabs me, and I’m ripped upward and into the air. I shriek, hissing and spitting as I twist. The hand adjusts and his grip on the scruff of my neck firms.

One of the unfortunate things about being a cat is that there are sometimes nerves that can be hit in the neck, the ones a mother cat would use to discipline her kittens, which make us…. Well.

I go limp.

I’m staring into that handsome face in a second, and my eyes are wide as I take in this other fae. His verdant eyes glitter with amusement. And his scent is somehow familiar now. It hits me like a shudder, attempting to flow through my limp body. The reason I felt pulled to this place.

“The Third Shard.”

It’s a statement, almost an introduction, as if he’s presenting me to a small dinner party of his close friends. Was he expecting me to be here? I hiss violently, twisting as I attempt to scratch his eyes out. He grips my neck harder and shakes.

“That’s a lot of attitude for a little cat,” he murmurs even as he whips me around. I can’t take it. I flood myself with Chroma, writhing out of his grasp as I transform into a fae. Standing to my full height, I glare down at this male. My burly size lends itself nicely to intimidation.

Unfortunately, he nearly meets me eye to eye. Silver lining? He’s not swinging, so I don’t have to fight. I hate fighting.

The air between us sparks with Chroma as we glare. My honey yellow dances around me while his is a dark, purplish color, somewhere between mulberry and raisin. It almost looks black in the dark, which sends a shiver down my spine. Black Chroma. A hueless magic, granted by no Gods at all. Very dangerous. Very evil, only for the most broken souls.

But no, it’s definitely purple, I assure myself.

His green eyes dance, contrasting beautifully with his indigo magic as it pulses around him like the shadows themselves move and twist with him. They’re so green they could be called a dark emerald, but the light filtering in from the abandoned warehouse paints them with a jade sheen. As he shifts, the beams catch and reflect off his piercing gaze, leaving me mesmerized by the intensity of his verdant irises.

They narrow as if unsure why I’m staring at him so intently. Shit. I blink, clearing the trance, and he snorts. “I see your curse has been broken. How long did it take you to figure that one out? Too bad you haven’t figured out clothing.”

His disdain for me is palpable.

But I can feel it, the pull to him. My stomach sinks. Nostrils flaring, I take in his scent again. Yes, there it is. Under the rotten Yurghen wrongness.

“You’re a Shard,” I sputter out, taking a step back in awe.

His lips curl into a cruel smirk as his hands move to cross his chest. “You are a bright one.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I note that he’s making fun of me, but I don’t care right now. This isn’t right. Why does a Shard smell like that?

“No…” my voice trembles. I’m eying the exits, trying to find a way out. I’m sure that if I just find another hole, I can…

There.

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