Page 11 of Consume Me
“Tough. I’m giving you tonight, Kendall. One night to see what this bargain really means. But if you walk out of that mansion with those daggers in your possession, you call in reinforcements. End of discussion.”
I nod tightly, knowing there’s not a chance in hell I’ll win this argument. “Deal.”
Natalia smirks faintly. “Take care in that dress, Kendall. It’s a weapon too.”
I haven’t worna dress since Tori’s wedding. And even then, it was black, boring, and spelled with twenty-seven different protection wards because Legion had been worried some dark creature was going to make a move on me during the primal hunt part of their ceremony. Not that I blamed him. I’ve seen what some of their citizens act like during Tartarus’ mating moons, so I didn’t argue. But this dress… This one is beyond anything I’ve ever worn, boring or otherwise.
In the mirror’s reflection, I note how the silver silk clings in all the right places and floats in others while the icy embellishments on the bodice glitter in the light. The hem swishes around my ankles. I even did my makeup with a smoky eye and a dusting of shimmer across my cheekbones. My hair’s braided up, crown-style, which is more practical than fancy, just in case it comes to a fight.
Fora fleeting second, I pretend I’m the old me. The carefree, flirty younger sister who loves to dance and spends her time wondering if she’ll ever get a boyfriend. Or fall in love. Or be as happy as her parents were when she’s finally mated.
But the daydream doesn’t last.
Reality crashes in when the daggers hum their impatience from where I’ve strapped them to my thighs.
Demanding fuckers.
They’re especially insistent tonight, which tells me this moment is just the calm before the storm. Whoever this mark of theirs is, I suspect they won’t go down easy.
And try as I might to summon my own sight so I can see how this might go, no visions come. It’s as if my power is completely at the mercy of the daggers now; no longer my own.
With a sigh, I snag the invitation off the counter and read the coordinates etched into the back. My phone’s navigation feature pulls them up easily enough and offers directions. After one final deep breath, I square my shoulders and then walk to the door.
This is either the beginning of my freedom… or the last night of my fucked-up life.
Either way, I open the door and walk through it.
Twenty minutes later, I’m on the outskirts of the city, on a dirt path lined by gnarled trees and old spell-burned stones. The moon glows overhead, but everything else is shadows and silence. Not a soul in sight. Just fog rolling low over the forest floor, thick and cold, curling around my boots as I shift left then right for some clue I’m in the right place.
“This has trap written all over it,” I mutter, but I keep moving anyway.
I don’t have many options left.
After another moment, the wind stirs.
And then?—
The fog shifts.
Clears.
And a separate path appears.
Glowing flowers bloom in the dirt on either side of the trail, opening like they’ve been waiting just for me. Pale blue petals, pulsing faintly, line the trail like runway lights. Magic hums beneath the soil. The kind that feels older than language, more sentient than not.
A hush falls over the forest. The air thickens.
A portal shimmers to life directly ahead of me. Magic sparks off its edges.
My breath catches from the suddenness of it. Whoever this Vaelora is, she’s dramatic as fuck. Why bring me out here, only to offer a portal in the end?
With a huff, I waltz through the magical gateway, bracing myself for whatever awaits me on the other side. Fireworks or acrobats or whatever else this strange fae woman has thought up. But on the other side of the portal is more forest.
And that same lit path, glowing with flowers.
Moon blooms.
They were my mother’s favorite, I suddenly remember.
