Page 164 of Cursed Evermore
“Come forward,” he commanded in that emotionless monotone he'd used when I'd arrived.
I walked over to him, stopping a breath away. My gaze met his eyes as he stared down at me as sharp as the blade in his hands.
I wished I knew what he was thinking. Or what hewasn'tthinking.
Part of me was desperate to know. The other half was almost equally desperate for all of this to be over and done with so I could go home.
Home.As if I had a choice. I'd only have that option if Wolfe didn't do the unconscionable thing of keeping me here out of spite. I wouldn't put such a thing past the male who stood before me.
Gone was the fascination I'd seen lingering in his eyes from the night we met.
Gone was the guy who'd told me I was his, called me Ziyka, and begged me to stay with him when I was dying.
Gone was the guy who'd given me my first look at the magical realm from the sky.
In the end, every step we'd taken had been about this moment. This vital moment when we performed this spell to get his ring back. It was nothing more.
The hollow hope I'd still clung to fizzled into the air with each realization, leaving me feeling more alone and scared than I'd ever felt in my life.
Wolfe stepped closer, and I could smell the intoxicating scent of him. Cedarwood, smoke, and raw power. It was an untamed masculine scent that made my pulse quicken.
“Give me your hand.” He put his hand out to take mine.
I gave him my hand, and damn it, the instant he touched me, shards of wild electric energy rippled over my skin and bloomed in my core. It was so potent I had to look away from him and find anything to stare at besides those piercing eyes.
This wasn't the time for such thoughts or feelings.
My gaze settled on the inscribed runes on the walls behind him, but then he pressed the blade to my palm and drew the blade across the skin.
I expected it to hurt, but I felt no more than a scratch. In fact, it was far less painful than when I'd drawn blood for the blood spell.
Dark blood welled up instantly, and Wolfe turned my hand over so the blood could drop onto the center of the parchment.
“Keep your hand there,” he instructed, positioning my hand so my palm lay flat.
He released me and sliced his palm, doing the same thing. Drops of his blood mingled with mine, and the temperature suddenly fell.
The last time that happened to me, I'd summoned the wraith. Shadows crept in and around us from inside the circle Arielle and Garrick formed. Then the parchment began to glow with a soft amber light.
Wolfe started chanting in the old tongue. The air around us pulsed with anticipation, thick and heavy like the moments before a storm broke.
The air shimmered and the shadows around us deepened, seeming to dance in response to his words.
“Amuun dai del nenira.” Wolfe's voice took on a darker edge and my breath caught at the intensity.
Our blood began to flow along the carved pathways on the parchment, mixing and mingling until it was impossible to tell which was his and which was mine.
The shadows began to whistle and whoosh and whirl, pulsing in tandem with my hammering heart. Shivers raced down and up my spine. I held my breath, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest and fleeing into another dimension.
Wolfe's eyes met mine once more, the intensity in his stare warning me to calm myself.
I tried. I took a deep breath and willed my racing thoughts to stop, but the eerie whirling of the shadows terrified me.
It was bad enough when they came from him, but I'd gotten used to those. These shadows were something else, a separate entity that felt like they'd come to steal my soul. My heart raced again at the thought, and my breath quickened.
It wasn't until warm hands wrapped around mine that I caught my breath and the tremor in my heart eased.
Panting, I looked at my hands, both swallowed by Wolfe's, our wounds touching, more blood mixing. He'd placed the athame on the floor beside us, but I was so focused on freaking out that I hadn't seen.
