Page 15 of Consume Me
Eventually, I leave the bar and slip around the edge of the ballroom, skirting past dancers and glamoured nobles, concentrating on my rune. Letting it pull me closer to the dark magic I’m hunting.
And then—I feel it.
A pulse.
Low. Sharp.Wrong.
The familiar hum of demon magic.
It slides beneath my skin like smoke, slithering up my spine.
I make my way slowly through the room, letting that dark magic call me toward it like a beacon. It’s stronger than I remember. They’ve grown more powerful in the centuries since I last encountered them. Or whoever wields them now has significant power of their own. Not that they’ll be enough to stop me. But it might make for a more interesting fight. My fae senses prickle as I study the partygoers, contemplating what manner of creature I’m about to face. But I can’t sense anything beyond the blades’ dark power that hangs like a curtain over the crowd.
And still, my rune guides me onward.
Closer and closer, until the symbol etched into my arm burns with enough heat that it sears my skin. I grab the arm of the nearest suspect, yanking hard. A small intake of breath sounds as they whirl, and I come face to face with a female fae.
The rune on my arm ignites like a brand searing my flesh. But I barely notice the pain—and what that pain means. Instead, my attention is held transfixed by a creature more beautiful than any I’ve encountered.
Golden hair, braided in a crown that glimmers as if it were forged from sunlight itself, frames a face carved with defiance. A small tiara rests atop her head, glittering with a thousand points of light, every shimmer drawing my gaze downward to the small gleam at her nose. The dainty piercing should look delicate, but on her, it reads like a blade—unexpected, sharp, a glimmer of rebellion tucked beneath thefinery.
And then there are her eyes. Blue—glacier blue. Cold enough to cut, hard enough to wound. They slam into me like steel doors locked tight, daring me to try to find the key. That impenetrable exterior should make her unapproachable, but instead, it tempts me. Because no one builds walls like that without hiding something inside. Something worth protecting. Something worth breaking for.
She isn’t just beautiful. She’s weaponized. Every glittering thread, every polished angle is armor—and I can’t stop myself from wanting to know what she looks like when it all shatters. Or who she is underneath.
She yanks her arm out of my grasp.
Our eyes lock.
Time stutters. Then stops.
Everything inside me stills—except the rune, which pulses like a second heart trying to claw its way out of my skin now that I’m no longer touching the stranger.
My breath catches. Not because of the pain—though it’s nearly blinding—but because she isher.
The woman before me is the dagger-bearer.
But worse, so much fucking worse than that, she is also my mate.
Of all the cursed, twisted, ruinous fates in this world…
I take a step toward her, but there’s no intent to harm in the movement. My chest strains with the knowledge that I couldn’t injure this woman if I tried. That I’d sooner let the daggers pierce my own heart and stop it from beating forever than I could harm a single golden hair on her head.
She watches me like I’m a wild animal that might pounce or flee. And she’d be right either way. My inner beast thrashes at the horrific realization that our greatest enemy is also the one creature we cannot survive without. After centuries of battles and countless enemies fought and felled, it’s the greatest irony to be brought to my knees, not by an enemy’s sword but by this beautiful woman who has so instantly ensnared my heart.
“What do you want?” she asks, wary but not panicked.
Her power coils just beneath her skin, veiled but potent. The promise of death, ancient and dark, wafts from her slight frame. The daggers are like predators hidden beneath the layers of her gown, humming low and threatening.
They recognize me too.
I should run her through. Use the spell carved into my skin to destroy her cursed blades once and for all. Avenge my fallen cadre like I vowed to do.
Instead, I say, “Apologies for grabbing you. From across the room, I thought you were in danger.”
“So you grabbed me instead of the threat?”
“Let me make it up to you.” I offer a quick bow, never once taking my eyes off her. “Dance with me.”
