Page 184 of Owned

Had I finally, accidentally, destroyed the grimoire without knowing it?

A frantic laugh burst from my lips.

If this had happened a month ago, I would have been overjoyed.

But now? When I needed the cursed thing?

I flung the dagger down onto the vanity and turned away from it.

I pushed my hands through my hair as I paced the room.

What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

I stopped short as a strange itch traveled over my skin.

The itch rippled over my body and then focused on my upper thigh. The itch became a burn—gentle at first, like the pain from a cat scratch.

Brief but sharp.

I froze in place as the burn intensified and stole my breath.

I ripped back the edge of my robe to look at my thigh and I let out a choked cry as the pain sharpened even more.

Horror filled my chest as a faint red line appeared on the smooth skin of my thigh.

It moved and changed into something primal—its shape spiraled inward like a snare and I screamed as the pain blazed white hot through my body.

And then it was gone.

No pain. Just a throbbing ache.

Gasping for air, I stared down at the mark that was burned into my skin.

Around it, jagged runes circled like teeth, still smoking at the edges where they had been carved into my skin—branded.

The swirling mark pulsed once, twice, then settled, as though a second heartbeat had taken root beneath it.

I winced as I traced my fingers over the edges of the sigils. My fingertips bumped over the raised surface. Scarred. Burned from the inside.

It had worked.

I’d done it.

But what would it cost me?

And did I care?

I paced the library,and the soles of my boots scraped against the uneven stone.

Each step felt like an accusation, but I wasn’t the one on trial.

Not yet.

“You’re the only one of my sons who is enough like me to appreciate this power—”

The echo of Lucian’s voice wove through my mind like a curse, looping around the memory of the vision at the Spire.

My brothers, dead at my feet.

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