Page 59 of My Hexed Honeymoon

I fumble around with the handles, trying to figure out the best way to keep it in my possession.

Use it.

I can’t tell whether it’s me or a voice from the weapon, but I instantly know it’s either use it or lose it.

The runes pulse as the vampires tighten their formation; Diego’s ears and muzzle twitch wildly as he attempts to keep them all in his sights.

Harried, I check the ground for a rock or sharp stick I can use to slice my palm and feed the loom what it so badly wants…

What I see is the crimson blood dripping from Diego’s wounds splattering the pine needles and dirt.

I stretch out a palm and swipe it through some of the blood around his injury, trying not to think about what I’m doing while stressing that I’m doing it wrong.

Whatever it is I’m even doing.

Time’s up, so I drag the blood over the intestinal strings of the loom, my hands smeared with lifeblood as instinct tells me how and where to grip it.

“Don’t,” Riven hisses, hurling a dagger at Diego’s body. “You have no idea what you’re doing—you’re going to ruin everything.”

Hello, that was my entire goal. “You should’ve told me what we were actually dealing with from the beginning,” I say, despite not fully knowing myself at this very moment.

The loom drinks in the blood I feed it greedily, and the forest gradually fades, no vampires, no protective werewolf.

I’mthereagain.

Inside the Hollow.

Darkness creeps along the edges of my reality, the threads I usually see in the other realm a red and black ichor, pulsing around me like I’ve landed myself in a chamber of a heart.

I’m not afraid like I was before. In fact, I almostwantsomeone to attack me so I can unleash my power.

Or the loom’s power. I can’t tell, and right now, I don’t care.

I fight through the fog, stepping a foot into my realm, where Diego’s countering attack after attack, keeping me safe as electricity flows molten through my arms and legs.

It’s slightly dizzying and exceedingly intoxicating.

All the magic that seemed to be closed off to me before surges from bottom to top, an iridescent green flickering at the tips of my fingers.

“Get back,” I command the attacking vamps, my voice echoing as if far away.

Those golden threads that’ve been my constant companion for as long as I remember bend to my will, forming a fist I slam into the vampires nearest Diego.

It flings the guy next to him backward as well, ass over heels. They lie there stunned, struggling to understand what hit them.

Awesome.

Tingly excitement bubbles up, along with the confidence I always ran short on.

There you are, precious threadling. I’m so glad you’ve returned.

This time the voice doesn’t scare me—doesn’t imitate me. It can’t keep me here. I walk between realms.

“Oh, I’m not here to stay,” I say, and through the haze, Riven and the other vampire to my right tilt their heads with curiosity.

But I’m not afraid of them overpowering me anymore, either.

Gathering my strength, I borrow a little lifeforce from a nearby tree and braid it into a rope. Gripping it on either side, I loop it around the throat of the vampire sinking his teeth into Diego’s shoulder—as the two on his other side land brutal blows to his back and ribs.

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