Page 14 of The Shadow Bride

Just like that, I can no longer resist the temptation. Still holding my breath, I peek at him through my lashes.

And there he is.

All my thoughts take flight at the sight of him, a portrait of fury come to life—so much larger, somehow, than in my memories. So much darker. Like an avenging angel or primordial deity. Cloaked all in black, his silver hair loose, he shouldn’t exist in such a mundane place—shouldn’t exist outside myths and legends—yet he does.

And he isdevastating.

“There’s nothing you can do for her, Michal,” Lou says, bristling at his unspoken challenge. “You should leave before I get angry.”

“Spoken like a child,” Michal says, “who has never seen true anger.”

Lou’s fingers twitch. “I amnota child—”

“Then invite me inside.”

“Not a chance.”

Dripping wet from the rain and wreathed in night, Michal grips the doorframe with thinly veiled restraint. Arms rigid. Shoulders bowed. The wood still buckles under the pressure, however, and hairline cracks feather outward from his fingertips. He glares atLou with a threat of violence. “There are remains of a pentagram on your table, Louise le Blanc, and your kitchen tastes of roses and blood. Though I dare notassumethe damage you’ve done tonight, Célie should not require your husband to remain upright.” Those black eyes find mine then, as lightning flashes behind him. They glitter with malevolence—at me, at Reid, at the broken candles and bloody pentagram behind us. “You’ve been very foolish,” he says quietly, “endangering yourself and everyone around you.”

Heat washes through me at that. Sharp, vitriolic heat. It purges all instinct to hide. Indeed, it purges all instinct to do anything except wrap my hands around his throat. “Me?” I snarl, pushing from Reid’s arms between one blink and the next. Only Michal’s eyes are fast enough to follow the movement—which they do, narrowing to slits as I stagger beneath a wave of light-headedness. I push Reid’s hand away when he tries to steady me. “That’s rich coming from the vampire whosworenever to create another because—and I quote—ours isa fate worse than death. Do you remember that, Michal? Or”—I lurch closer, sidestepping Coco and Beau as they too reach out to help me—“do you just not care about my fate? Did you not care aboutMila’s?”

Michal’s face hardens instantly.

Too far.

But—no. I shake my head viciously.I don’t care.I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’tcareif I hurt him. This isallhis fault, and my fangs lengthen as I stumble into Lou, as she snakes an arm around my waist and smells like temptation. Like oblivion. With a violent throb of my head, I push her away too. Because she cannot touch me either—no one can ever touch me again—and I clench my mouth shut, yearning to wrench each hideous tooth from my jaw. To breakthem, toshatterthem. To ground them to dust beneath my boot.

When I tilt forward against the doorframe, stars erupt across my vision, and the wood cracks beneath Michal’s hands. Eyes blazing, he strains forward slightly as if trying to reach me, but an invisible force holds him back. And I relish it. I relish that control. “You left me,” I whisper. “You turned me intothis”—I gesture to my face, my body, both familiar yet not—“and you sent me away.”

“I’m not the one who left, Célie,” he says darkly.

“I never wanted to be like you.”

“Should I have let you die instead?”

“Ididdie!” The words burst from me like a dam breaking, and I flatten my hand on my bodice, directly above where my heart should beat in my chest. Where it will never beat again. As always, Michal tracks my every movement, but this time—this time he swallows hard and looks away, as if he can no longer stand the sight of me. I can no longer stand it either. “This body—it doesn’t belong to me, Michal. It isaberrantto me. It craves blood—just like you and the rest of yourwretchedkin—which means I can never trust it.” When he opens his mouth to argue, I shake my head again, stars whirling, and speak over him. “You said so yourself—vampires lose control when they feed; it’s why you were so angry with me after I healed you in that attic. You knew I put myself at risk. You knew you could’ve taken more than I wanted to give, and you were right.” My voice rises at the last, breaks at the last, and intolerable pressure builds behind my eyes as I open my mouth to say, “God, you were right”—

And choke on an open flame instead.

The words blister my throat, hotter than Hellfire, and I gasp in pain, inshock—the only sound I can make as I clutch at my collar.I expect to see smoke. There is none, however—no fire either—and Michal’s eyes soften inexplicably as he watches me. They fill with pity. With remorse. Almost like he—like heknowswhat I just tried to say.

“What is it, Célie?” Lou’s hand hovers, outstretched, as if she stopped herself from touching me at the last second. “What happened?”

“I c-couldn’t— I tried to—”

Michal’s fingers tighten on the doorframe. He tears his gaze away to stare resolutely over my shoulder. “Speak the Lord’s name?”

Even a mention of God sends a phantom flame through me. Wincing, I stare at Michal in horrified disbelief as my own fingers wrap around my throat. As they cradle it helplessly. “H-How did you know that? What is h-h-happeningto me?”

He still refuses to meet my gaze. His jaw, however, clenches. “Vampires cannot speak of holy ones.”

“Then how didyou?” Coco asks accusingly.

“I’ve had many years to practice.”

The floor starts to tilt again as I consider the implications of such a phenomenon. “You mean I can n-never say H-H-His”—but fresh flames shoot up my throat, and I cry out, doubling over—“n-name again?”

“It’s all right, Célie.” Unable to stop herself now, Lou places a comforting hand on my back. It still reeks of blood. “You don’tneedto say his name to believe.”

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