Page 17 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

You never responded last night. Are you all right or just angry with me?

I want to laugh but clamp down on the emotion as I focus on responding, drawing out the words in my mind as best I can.

I’m a little tied up at the moment, Six. And I’m always angry with you.

I picture a stranger’s smirk at my response as he reads the script on his body—his thigh, to be exact. I love making him search for it, even though I don’t have a clue who he is, beyond him being my Matched.

I’d never been more shocked a year ago when little questions started popping up along my forearms in delicate, magical ink. It took him weeks of prying before he got me to respond, and when I finally did, I could almost feel his relief through the little disappearing tattoos.

I thought fate Matched me with a ghost,he’d said, making me laugh.

He always made me laugh, despite neither of us giving the other information about our true identities. He told me to callhim Six, and I told him to call me whatever he wanted because he wasn’t getting my name. As rare and amazing as having a mate is, I’ll never be able to complete the bond with Six. My life is too complicated and it would be so, so unfair to him.

I like it when you’re angry. Get untied. I miss you.

I grin down at the tattoo that fades after a few seconds, then shake my head.

It’s been two days, Six. Get a life.

My life is all yours.

I swallow around the emotion creeping up my throat. I hate to admit it, but Six—phantom that he may be—has been my closest friend since we started communicating this way. Sure, we never delved into anything too personal, but he’s a solid companion, someone I knew I could count on despite never laying eyes on him. And right now, starving and uncertain as I am about my place in this world, I want him here in front of me.

But that would be selfish, because the path I’m taking leads to nothing but bloodshed and death.

Our goddess Aletha is a cruel bitch for Matching us in the first place. Honestly, she’s supposed to be an understanding, if not just goddess, but why would she match Six with someone destined to ruin him? It’s unfair, but as long as we don’t complete the Matched bond, he’ll be spared the devastation when I inevitability die. Either from my heart condition—which I told him about in a moment of vulnerability on a lonely night—or more likely, the collector core or the Collector’s prick of a son—the sadistic crown prince of Lingate—after I slit his father’s throat.

I wouldn’t put that burden on Six.

Once while dancing at a tavern in Spider Downs, I saw a female drink herself to death, hiccupping between cries about how her Matched had passed in his sleep. I’d never seensomeone so sad or distraught, and we’d found her body behind the tavern the next morning.

The agony of losing a Matched is so great that legends are written and ballads are sung about it. One doesn’t recover from a blow like that. Hence, my refusal to meet in person. I threatened to stop communicating with him entirely if he pressed the issue, and he respectfully agreed, so confident that the more I got to know him, the more irresistible he’d be to me.

A valiant effort on his part, but hopeless all the same.

“No,” Zev’s tone is clear and sharp, hauling my focus away from my arm and back to the very real present. “She’ll say anything for a chance to escape?—”

“Look at her, Zev,” Jagger argues, his voice just as powerful. “She can’t even break her bonds. She’s not even trying to.”

One of those statements is true.

“She’sstanding right here,” I say, eyebrows raised. They both turn to look at me, like I’ve overstepped my bounds by intruding on their in-depth discussion aboutmywell-being. “Look,” I continue, a bit softer this time. I even raise my tied hands for emphasis. “My med supplier is in Destowne.” I point to the west. “It’s not far. I can get my medication and feed there too.” The idea makes my knees weak.

Zev narrows his gaze at me, but Jagger nods, his teal eyes lighting up like a little side-trip to Destowne is exactly what he wants. The wealthy mortal city is known for its nightlife, after all, and Jagger looks like he lives and breathes for that sort of fun.

When it’s crystal-clear Zev still isn’t on board, I shrug. “Unless you two want to fuck each other and let me watch,” I suggest, the idea sending a bolt of heat straight down my spine. “And offer one of your wrists in the middle of it.” I drag the tip of my tongue over my fangs, waggling my eyebrows.

Jagger’s full lips part, while Zev looks like he’s about to draw his sword and cut me down right here and now and be done with it.

“And risk beingLinkedto you?” Zev spits. “I’d rather die.”

I glare up at him, hurt spearing through my chest.

“I can handle that for you,” I say as casually as I can. “You’d probably enjoy death at my hand, drifter.” He opens his mouth to snap back, but I hurry over him. “And you don’t Link after one time.” I roll my eyes.

To Link with a succubus, the partner in question has to have consensual sex three times, making the conscious choice to be magically tied to the succubus for the rest of their lives. It’s not as intense as bonding with a Matched, but anyone who Links with me will always be able to find me, feel me, and want to take care of me. They’d need to be near me too, with only small instances of separation. If any of those things is interrupted, the Linked can turn violent in an attempt to get to me. Call it Aletha’s grand design to ensure succubus’s survival or call it a cruel trick, either way it’s a certainty that’s dangerous at the best of times.

A pang of guilt twists my chest, a painful memory threatening to steal the breath from my lungs, but I force it away with anger simmering on my tongue.

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