Page 98 of Angel Lost

I jolt, blinking hard, dragging my head away from the scrying pool—away from the future.

Feet crunch around me. Swearing muttered between heavy breaths.

“What the hell is this?” More crunching. “Why is he surrounded by glass?”

My earthly senses drift back, sluggish, unwilling. Smoke, citrus, and pine. Farrell.

“It’s drugs,idiota. He’s using again. Whatever the hell this is.” That voice isn’t Farrell though. Accented. Still, familiar.

“He can’t be, Chano. I compelled him not to.” Smug bastard.

Chano. That’s the deeper voice. The demon. A shiver rakes through me, followed by a dull, creeping ache.

The world sharpens. The cold bite of shattered glass against my palms. The metallic tang of blood in my mouth. The whisper of the scrying pool still pulls at the edges of my mind. More distant now. Fading.

I try to lift my arm—pain slams through me.

“He’s found a workaround, Farrell, he’s sparko.” Big fat fingers click in front of my face and I snap at them, teeth clacking shut on air. Chano flinches. “Theputais as high as a kite.”

They haul me up, arms slung over their shoulders, and frog-march me out of my precious observatory. First time I’ve left in…How long?My mind wanders, time folding in on itself. What’s already happened? What’s still to come?

A hand pries my jaw open. Something warm and sloppy shoves down my throat. My stomach lurches, cramping hard.When did I last eat?

“Crap,” Chano bellows. “He’s pissed himself.”

Farrell’s disappointment presses down on my soul.

They drag me into the shower, fully clothed. Only Farrell stays. Strips me and directs me to wash. My brain stumbles over the simplest task. I get stuck, hand halfway to the soap, stall mid-rinse, stare at the towel with no knowledge of what I’m supposed to do with it. Patiently, Farrell talks me through it all.

Then he and Chano take turns forcing liquid past my lips, reminding me to swallow.

Reality settles back into place—wrong, jarring, too sharp around the edges. A hollow ache opens in my chest, and I grind my teeth.

“I’ll have to compel him again,” Farrell mutters.

“Because that worked so well the first time,” Chano drawls.

“It did. For a while.” Farrell paces the room. “The professors push this crap to boost visions. He must have been asked to use it for class. Something let him bypass my compulsion.”

Chano exhales sharply. “So, if the slave bond is broken, you think he’ll spiral?”

Farrell stops pacing. “I know he will. But with my father in royal custody, killing him to dissolve the bond isn’t an option. Is it bad that I’m almost relieved?” He groans. “He’s obsessed with Lorelei, hooked on this stuff, and getting more unhinged by the day. Chano, he’s stalking her. He’s not safe to be around her—not alone.”

“It’s not for us to decide who Lorelei chooses. She’s already gotten Maverik and Cuelebre into bed.”

“Yes. Strong, dependable men. Not flakes.”

Farrell’s words splinter something inside me. Suddenly, I’m one hundred percent with it.

“You’re being unfair,” Chano grumbles.

I’m not sticking around to hear this shit. I stand, staggering slightly. Farrell whirls like a dervish, catching me around the waist and pinning me to the bed. He grips my chin in one hand, wrenches my head sideways, and presses his other thumb to the slave mark on the back of my neck.

“I compel you, Zephyr Engill, not to use any earthly addictive substance for any purpose,” he growls.

The familiar slither of compulsion crawls over my skin, creeps into my flesh, burrows into my bones. Farrell lets me go and I roll over, retching up the little fluid I had in me.

“Was that necessary?” Chano snaps.

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