Page 37 of Court of Heathens

That does the trick. They both grab their junk. “Rock, paper, scissors?” the demon suggests.

“What is that?” Phrixius asks. “A trap?”

“A game, you moron. Fine, just say one. Three, two, one . . . Paper!”

“Scissors.” Phrixius frowns, confused. “Do I need to conjure some?”

“Bloody gods.” The demon points from me to him. “I will be back though.” Suddenly, he’s gone, which surprises me. I expected more of a fight, but maybe he can see how close I actually am to turning them. I’m not used to being alone, not with the demon here, but add in Phrixius and it’s a lot. It makes my head ache.

“Okay, so let me think. How can you trace the magic in a zombie?” I murmur, moving closer to check on it. It hasn’t moved in a while. Is it dead—erm, deader? It’s leaning against the bars, almost like it collapsed. Maybe the magic inside it finally gave out?

“Freya, no!” Phrixius yells as I press my hand to the bar above its head, intending to check on it, but as soon as my hand hits the bar, I scream.

Darkness explodes within me, the thing caged deep inside blowing through me like a storm. It flows from me to the bar, trying to get down to the zombie, but I am ripped away.

I feel myself falling then someone wraps around me, but I cannot see anything.

“I can’t see!” I shout. “Phrixius, I can’t see!”

I can’t . . . Everything is black, like I’m drowning in darkness.

It’s consuming me, eating me from the inside out.

“I’m here, Freya. I’m here.” His voice is hard, and warm hands press to my cheeks, making me realise how cold I am.

“I can’t see!” I sob, the tears leaking down my cheeks. I can feel my limbs, but I feel like I’m falling inside myself, and part of me knows if I hit the darkness, I will never come back again. “Phrixius, make it stop. Please, please help me.”

“Hold on, baby, I’ve got you.” Suddenly, warmth infuses my lips, breathing life back into me.

Phrixius.

I can taste him as he forces my lips open, his hands gripping my cheeks so hard I feel them bruising, but I want more. His tongue tangles with mine as he kisses me.

As he does, the darkness starts to recede. My vision clears, and heat returns to my body. It felt like I was being plunged into ice. It was what I imagine death would feel like. I couldn’t see or feel. I was ice-cold, but as he kisses me, he forces heat back into my body, chasing away the darkness until my chest loosens. I shakily lift my hands and hold him closer.

I can see again, although my vision is still blurry. I’m in his arms on the floor, his face above mine, and as I keep blinking, he comes into view. His eyes are closed, and he’s so close, his lips moving against mine. His eyes open and hold mine, but he doesn’t stop, and I realise he’s not just kissing me . . .

He’s draining me of that darkness.

I can see it moving between us, a dark fog passing between our lips. My eyes widen, meeting his once more as he continues to kiss me until he pulls back. I can see that shadow of darkness darting across his eyes, blinding him until he blinks it away.

“Are you okay?” he asks, searching my face. “Freya, speak to me.”

“I’m okay.” My voice is hoarse, like I was screaming.

Was I?

I don’t know. The last few moments feel like a fog was wrapped around my head, obscuring everything but that cloying darkness. Ishudder at the reminder of the feeling, swallowing hard as I nod. “I’m okay,” I repeat more to myself than him.

He relaxes then, stroking my cheeks as he watches me recover.

There’s no darkness anymore. I’m left panting and weak, but there’s no darkness, yet his eyes drop to my lips, and with a groan, he leans in and kisses me again. I kiss him back.

My hand slide up into his golden hair and tug him closer. All my fear and worry morph into desire—desire he stoked. I was ice-cold, and now I’m burning hot, unable to get close enough. I climb him, knocking him back to the floor.

He goes willingly, moaning into my mouth as my hands slide across his body hungrily. I perch on top of him, rolling my hips. Desire storms through me, and I can’t stop. My entire body ignites with sensation, craving the taste of vitality on his lips and his warmth.

“I’ve got you.” He groans as my lips slide across his cheek and down his neck, making him gasp. “It’s okay, Freya. It’s normal. It’s your magic trying to bring life back to your body—” His words end in a moan as I bite down. He’s trying to be good and help me, but I don’t need nice.

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