Page 21 of Consume Me
A sense of power, deathly dark and full of rot, spreads over me. And I realize with no small amount of horror that whatever power I thought I knew from these daggers, what they’re capable of is so much more than that.
So much more than I can prevent.
“No,” I breathe, gaze fixed on the daggers. “Stop. I didn’t give you permission?—”
The blades tilt toward him.
My mate.
I wonder if he’ll fight. Or flee. But instead, he shifts.
Right there in the gallery, in a flash of bone and magic and ancient power, the male drops to all fours—his body stretching, reshaping, fur turning dark as ink beneath the shaft of moonlight.
A wolf.
A massive, deadly, star-marked wolf.
My breath stalls.
Because I’veseenthis wolf before. In that repeated vision of my own death. A wolf standing over me, blood on its muzzle, eyes burning with sorrow.
This is it.
The moment I die.
But instead of striking at me?—
The wolf lunges at the daggers.
They slash at him, the carved runes sparking along their handles, but he moves impossibly fast, jaws snapping, and tears one of them out of the air. Using his teeth, the wolf presses the blade to the rune burnt into his front leg.
The blade shatters. Explodes into nothing but light and ash.
The other dagger drops to the floor, clattering against the marble. Silent. Limp. Like it’s lost half its soul.
And I collapse beside it, shaking, gasping,alive.
My palms press against the cold marble as my body folds in on itself. Everything hurts. My skin hums with secondhand magic, my ears ring with residual screams, and my vision swims.
The intensity of the visions grips me tighter than they ever have. As if the destruction of that dagger only served to make its hold over me somehow worse. Visions careen through my mind, picture after picture, all of them bloody and full of nightmares. I lose sense of myself, my body completely at the mercy of my mind.
When I come out of it, the sound of the remaining blade is a keening wail that threatens to drive me mad. I grit my teeth against the pain inside my head. It’s nearlyunbearable. My palms are clammy, my knuckles white from the fists I’m making against the floor.
But I’m alive.
That’s something.
The wolf watches me from across the distance, so still I wonder if it’s turned to stone. But then its snout flares with an inhale. I flinch, but it ignores me as it stalks to the remaining dagger. I realize what it means to do, and fear grips me.
“Wait!”
The wolf’s head snaps up.
My breath catches, stealing my voice.
I want to ask it for mercy. But all I can see when I look at the beast are those sharpened canines covered in my blood. My own life force ceasing to be. My horrible vision finally made real.
“Please… I think it might kill me if you destroy it,” I manage.
