Page 14 of The Blood Moon Oath

I don’t understand. I’ve been strong, sure. Fast. I’ve trained my entire life to take warlocks down, but this? This is something else entirely. The goblet was made of metal, for pete's sake. This is something I can’t control. Something I don’t even recognize.

I glance up, heart pounding, as Kael steps toward me, his calm, commanding presence making the room feel impossibly small. “Stay back,” I warn, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound strong. The blood on my hand feels insignificant compared to the storm building inside me.

Kael raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks. “Or what?”

The way he moves is infuriatingly deliberate, every step dripping with authority. My pulse races for reasons I don’t understand—and don’t want to. There’s something magnetic about him, about the power thrumming just beneath his skin, and it draws me in against my will. My body betrays me, a flicker of heat curling low in my stomach, and it’s enough to make my rage boil over. How can I feel even the faintest pull toward him when he’s my captor? When I know what he is? It’s humiliating, and worse, it terrifies me.

“Don’t keep her waiting,” Torin cackles from the corner, tossing his blade into the air and catching it lazily. “I want to see our little kitten use those claws again.”

“Stay away from me,” I snap, but my voice shakes. I grip the edge of the table, willing my legs not to give out. I know what these men are capable of—what I’ve done to others like them. If they figure out the truth, if they know how many of their kind I’ve hurt and killed, I won’t make it out of here alive.

Kael steps closer, slow and deliberate. “You don’t even know what you are, do you?” His voice is soft, almost mocking. “Your power is raw, untamed. I could help you, but you’d have to let me in.”

“Like hell,” I growl, but even as I say it, I know I’m out of options.

“Use your powers, then,” Kael says, intrigued, his head tilting slightly as if he’s studying me under a magnifying glass. “If you even know how.”

“I’ll tear you apart,” I hiss through gritted teeth, though the truth gnaws at me—I don’t know what to do, don’t know how to channel this... whatever this is coursing through me.

Kael’s smirk deepens. “I welcome that. Show me.”

Finn, still sitting in his seat, says nothing, his silver ring rolling methodically between his fingers. His silenceunnerves me more than Kael’s goading. His gaze is sharp, dissecting, and I feel exposed under the weight of it, cornered.

“Go on, kitten,” Torin drawls, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Let’s see how much fight you really have. Think you can handle all of us?”

“Torin,” Finn says quietly, a warning note in his voice, but Torin just grins wider, his eyes glinting with something unhinged.

Kael raises a hand, and the air around me shifts. My breath catches as an invisible weight presses down on my chest, pinning me in place. I claw at my throat instinctively, but there’s nothing there to fight. The pressure builds, thick and suffocating, as if the very air has turned against me.

I know what he’s doing—he’s trying to break me. To make me beg for mercy. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Still standing,” Torin murmurs, leaning forward with an almost childlike glee. “But for how long?”

My vision blurs. The weight is unbearable, like I’m being crushed from the inside out. My knees tremble, and for a fleeting moment, I think this might be it. This might be where I die.

And then something inside me snaps.

A surge of power erupts from deep within, raw and violent, exploding outward in a shockwave that sends everything flying. The table flips, chairs topple, and the roaring fire in the hearth flares wildly before snuffing out. Torin, caught mid-step, is thrown backward, landing on his ass with a loud thud.

Instead of anger, a slow, predatory grin spreads across his face. He licks his lips, his gaze locking on me with dark intent. “Now that’s the kind of fight I’ve been craving,” he growls, his voice low and suggestive. “If that’s what you’ve been hiding, little kitten, I can’t wait to see what else you’ve got. Maybe next time, you’ll aim it right at me.”

Finn steadies himself against the table, his calm demeanor cracking just enough for me to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes. Kael, of course, doesn’t flinch, though there’s a spark of something dangerous in his gaze as he approaches me again.

I’m shaking, barely able to stand, my breath ragged. My vision swims as exhaustion washes over me, the power drain leaving me weak and vulnerable. Kael’s presence looms over me, steady and unyielding.

“Your powers are far more dangerous than you realize,” he says, his voice low and calm, but there’s an edge to it that sends a chill down my spine. “This is just the beginning. Prepare yourself, little huntress. There will be more tests. You’ll need them if you want to survive here.”

His words barely register as darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision. I want to tell him I don’t care about surviving, that I’d rather die than play their games. But the words won’t come. My legs give out, and I feel myself falling.

Strong arms catch me, and I’m vaguely aware of being lifted, cradled against a broad chest. The warmth of their magic hums around me, and then everything fades to black.

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I wake up slowly, the ache in my body a dull throb compared to the sharp pain of earlier. The first thing I notice is the softness beneath me. The bed is plush, the sheets cool against my skin. My clothing is gone, replaced by a delicate nightgown that feels almost mocking in its femininity.

I bite back a groan, pulling the edge of the fabric between my fingers. It’s soft, smooth, and nothing like what I’m used to. These men—these warlocks—seem intent on shoving me into silks, delicate dresses, and heels, as if I’m some fragile doll. I’m used to boots and sturdy, practical leathers, the kind I tanned myself. Clothes that don’t tear when you’re tracking prey through a frozen forest or hiding in the underbrush for hours.They dress me like this on purpose, I’m sure of it, to unsettle me, to strip away anything that makes me feel grounded.

Infuriating bastards. I sit up, the nightgown rustling softly against my skin, and the movement only reminds me of how out of place I feel in this overly lavish prison.

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