Page 64 of Immortal Sins
Goosebumps tighten the skin of my arms. “And it doesn’t apply to me if I’m with you?”
Cole spins my wrist around and traces the faded tattoo. “You’re tied to its magic in your own right. The mark will disappear, but the Hawthorn will not forget.”
We weave around a natural staircase formed by low-hanging branches and hike to the top of the tree. The fresh mist leaves a soothing kiss on my shoulder as we pass through it, up and up, until we reach a flat, circular space. Five main branches gnarl in sharp angles toward the starry sky. Each limb splits into five smaller strands, like human hands sprouting upward to lift the crown of the tree.
Aerial roots wriggle along the flat space and draw three concentric circles.
Cole motions for me to stay behind the line and threads forward. As soon as he steps in the middle circle, a terrible vibration quakes the tree. Leaves bristles from above, a few dead ones rustling at our feet.
We don’t have to wait long.
A shadow stretches to a human-shape that slowly ripples into a man.
“Colden,” a terrifyingly charming voice purrs.
“My King,” Cole bows before his father.
The Fae King is a dead ringer for his son, and my heart speeds up at the mere sight of him. Power ripples through the air. Spikes of magic prickle the skin of my cheeks, chest, and arms.
A lustrous black mane flows down past the King’s shoulders, slicked back behind his pointy ears, and the sharp angles of his jaw cut through my mortal brain. Red and gold patterns illuminate the dark gray tint of his skin, like tiny fireflies drawing murals beneath the dermis. The lines and nodes glow in sync with the blood flowing through his veins.
Sacred blood,my mortal soul whispers.
My legs shake at the sudden urge to kneel and offer him my life, body, and soul.
Despite the grandeur of the apparition, the King’s body remains slightly translucent, like a ghost, and I figure he’s more of a hologram, his magic allowing him to takecallsfrom this location.
After half a minute of dreadful silence, the energy settles into something less foreign, but equally cold.
“Your mother was in a rage about you,” Kirkan drawls out.
Cole offers his father a tensed smile. “She forgets that I’m no longer a child.”
Kirkan’s eyes crease at the corners. “What about me? Would you defy my orders, too?”
“You’re my King.”
It’s not a straight answer, but it seems to please Kirkan, because he smiles. “You want your mother to accept this silly marriage, then?”
“I want her to vow not to harm my wife.”
I step into the circle.
Cole balls his fists, but he does not look back.
The phantom’s gaze shines with a flash of ire. “She’smortal.”
“Power is power,” Cole says through his teeth.
Kirkan sniffs the air, and the tightness of his jaw eases. “Demon blood flows through her veins.”
“Yes.”
“She’s infernal.”
Cole gives a curt nod. “And by the will of the Hawthorn’s roots, so am I.”
A cold, proud grin tugs at the corners of Kirkan’s mouth. “The witch shall live…for now. Let Erron judge how deep the wells of hell run in her veins.”
