Page 76 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

I shake my head as he moves toward the small table in the corner of our room, all manner of breads and cheeses and meats and fruit spread atop it.

I had a good week dancing, and made more money than I knew what to do with. Indulging like this was a small luxury. There’ve been many times in my past that I slept in back alleyways, hiding behind garbage troughs before seeking desperately for someone to feed from. I cherish these small luxuries.

Ingle shifts some things around on the table, looking completely relaxed and content in this simple life that we've created for ourselves. The longer I watch him create a little platter of snacks for me, the more confident I become.

He's my Linked, I can trust him.

“My mother was a tress,” I admit on a released breath.

The admission feels like a betrayal and a relief at the same time.

Ingle goes wholly still, the knife he'd been using to slice the hunk of bread freezing as he turns to look at me over his shoulder. “That's not a funny jest,” he says.

I swallow hard, sitting up in the bed, keeping my naked body covered with the sheet as I look at him. “It's no jest,” I say. “It's the truth.”

“I don't believe you,” he says.

My heart pounds a little harder in my chest, my stomach clenching. I raise my free hand, allowing the barest of my magic to release from my fingers, the green energy crackling and no brighter than a candle flame.

His blue eyes go wide, something churning in them I can't decipher. He's still holding that hunk of bread in one hand, the knife in the other, his snack assembly completely forgotten.

“Say something.”

He blinks a couple times, something settling over his features as he scoops up the tray of snacks and walks over to me. He sets the tray down to my left, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s willing to talk?—

He slashes the knife near my throat, and I dodge just before it connects.

I scramble off the bed in a panic.

He gives chase, wielding that knife in his hand in a way I've never seen.

“Ingle,” I plea. “Stop, you know me?—”

“Know you?” he spits the words at me. “I can't believe you! You allowed me to Link with you, a tress? You traitorous, selfish trash.”

Tears gather in my eyes, but I'm too busy evading his attacks, the cramped confines of our once comfortable room hindering me.

“Stop,” I say as he slashes that knife at me again, my keen senses allowing me to easily dodge it. “Ingle, just stop and listen. I would never do anything to hurt?—”

“What were you going to do?” he cuts me off. “Use me as your own walking blood donor, have me Linked and simpering after you as you steal younglings in the night for your sacrifices?”

I furrow my brow, disbelief rippling down my spine. “When have you ever seen me sacrificeanything? Let alone cast a spell? Do you really think I could hurt anyone?”

“Once a tress, always a tress,” he says, spewing more of that ancient, hateful rhetoric my way.

He lunges across the small space separating us, drawing on his phoenix powers to fly across the room and slam into me.

My spine cracks against the floor, my vision blurring from the impact. His hand is around my throat as I struggle beneathhim. He's using all his strength to pin me down, those once affectionate blue eyes staring at me with utter hate and disgust.

“You're going to pay for this,” he spits. “You're going to pay for allowing me to Link with you. What did you think was going to happen? That I would accept this?No onewould ever accept this. At the bare minimum, you tied my life to yours. A life on the run, if the collector core found out that I Linked with you.” He plunges the knife toward my neck, and I reach up to block it, the blade nicking my hand. “Have to do this. Have to sever this bond.”

He moves the blade towards my throat again, and I shake my head.

“You don't have to do this,” I say, tears rolling down my cheeks now. “Ingle. Please. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me,” he says, shaking his head. “You betrayed me for your own selfish gain.” He draws the blade back, and my instincts kick in, my fangs punching out in a hurry as I draw on my strength and block the knife meant for my heart.

I flip him over and sink my fangs into his flesh, ripping and tearing as my self-defense instincts take over.

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