Page 79 of Fury of the Bound
He looked like he wanted to argue with me; his jaw was tight, but he instead let out a frustrated breath through his nose.
“Fine. But you get in that damn cottage, barricade the place like the fucking world is ending, and don’t die.”
I let out a low laugh. “Aw, Kieran, that almost sounded like concern.”
He gave me a flat look. “Don’t flatter yourself. I care about Ronan. And if something happens to you, he’ll make it his life mission to rip my throat out.”
True.
I smirked, “Touching.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, yeah. Just go before I change my mind and babysit your stubborn ass myself.”
He didn’t make a move, his gaze fixed on the woods like he could feel something I couldn’t. So, I stepped closer to him, took his face in my hands—his stubble rough against my palms—and made him look at me.
“I’ll be fine, Kieran,” I said softly. “Please… trust me.”
Having him this close to me felt… right. Just like it did with Malrik and Ronan. Even Darian, on the rare occasion, didn’t want to kill me.
Up close, I could really see the harsh slash of the scar cutting across his face. It didn’t bother me. If anything, it suited him. The lines etched under his eyes and across his brow hinted that he had survived a lot. And at his temples, strands of silver threaded through his dark brown hair—subtle, but impossible to miss up this close.
He was older than the rest of us. Rough around the edges in a way that made him dangerous, but for some reason, I didn’t want to step away from him.
He reached out, tucking a strand of my white hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered for just a heartbeat too long against my skin, and I caught the faint tremor before he pulled his hand back like I’d scorched him.
“I’ll be back when all of this is over,” he said quietly, strained.
Then he turned and disappeared into the dark without a glance back.
Maybe that was for the best.
Still, I stood frozen a second longer, something inside me screaming not to let him go. But I shoved it down and started towards the cottage. I needed to get my dagger—and fast. Whatever was in the Whispering Woods tonight, it wasn’t just the mythical creatures.
And I couldn’t use my magic.
A loud crack of thunder shot through the sky as I picked up speed to the cottage, noticing the creatures were hiding, and the air felt cooler, even if we were heading into spring.
Sometimes I hated my mum for dying and leaving me alone. She locked away the full extent of my magic, left me scraping by on the smallest fraction of it—just enough to use, but not without it tearing me apart in the process.
The cottage finally came into view, and I sprinted the last stretch because I knew I wasn’t alone out here. I will be a hell of a lot safer with my dagger in my hand.
I crashed through the front door, heart pounding, and didn’t even bother shutting it behind me. My focus was on one thing. I went straight to the hiding spot beneath the floorboards.
Relief washed through me as my fingers curled around the purple handle. The dagger pulsed in my grip, dark magic running through it—wild, intoxicating, dangerous. The same kind of darkness that lived in Darian, and I needed to figure out how to destroy it to save him.
And I was also useless like this.
I pressed the floorboard back into place just as a sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
Someone was here.
I knew it.
Gripping hold of the dagger, I slowly stood to my full height and peered out of the window to see several vampires, none of whom I recognised this time.
I am so sick of King Draevens' bloody lapdogs. Too much of a coward to come and get me himself.
“I can see you, Ravena. Be a dear and come outside so we can talk.” The dark-haired vampire drawled out, grinning towards the cottage. His eyes were a brighter red and sunken in.
