Page 29 of The Blood that Binds Us

“I told you, it would not pain me to punish you.”

The sound of his voice sets my blood on fire. A growl tears from the back of my throat, something low and raw and primal, and I hurl a spinning orb of destruction towards him. He anticipates the blow and throws out a ward to halt my attack, stopping it in its tracks the same way I stopped the arrow.

The orb hovers between us, each of us willing it towards the other. If I was harboring any doubts about Sin’s skill, they dissolve immediately as his magic pushes against my own in a wall of sheer power. If I kill him, consuming his collective would make me stronger, resilient, downright lethal. I wet my lips at the thought of his blood sweetening my tongue.

“Stop!” he yells over the hum of the vibrating orb hovering between us. “Lower your side, and I’ll lower mine.”

I hold his stare over the sphere, now glowing a brilliant blue with silver speckles glittering throughout. If I didn’t know how much chaos was simmering in that shimmering ball, I’d almost want to touch it.

“Release it, witch, or one of us isn’t leaving this room.”

The heat coursing through me grows hotter, burns brighter, flows faster as I imagine him crumbling to his knees, his yellow-green eyes fearful for just a second before they go vacant. She whispers in my ears, drags a slender fingertip across my collarbone, encouraging me to bring the Black Art to his slaughter.Ourslaughter.

“Lower it,” Sin growls, flicking his head to the side like a wolf daring another one to challenge it.

Even if I wanted to, I can’t extinguish the orb on my own now, not since he latched onto it with magic of his own, fueling it more.

“How do I know you won’t turn it back on me if I let it go?”

“You don’t. Now lower it.” His eyes narrow, and his top lip curls up as he pushes against the orb harder, shoving it farther in my direction. He’s trying to force me to drop it. I either lower my side or risk my magic weakening, taking the full blast of the destruction I created.

I can’t scan his collective to know if he’s planning on letting the magic crush me, not while I’m using mine to hold the orb against Sin’s force. My options dart through my mind. If neither of us relinquishes our hold, one of uswilleventually tire faster than the other. And as much as I hate to admit it, I cannot overpower the Black Art so long as his magic is boosted with Adelphia’s blessing. Not without unlocking the extent of my own power, and that lies in a scenario I’m not willing to act out.

“Why should I let go first?”

“Because I’m your Black Art and I’m demanding it. Let. It. Go.”

With a look promising I’ll haunt him forever should he double-cross me, I drop to my knees and slowly lower my side of the orb, my hold on it now at a disadvantaged angle.

The magic croons between us—a lethal lullaby begging to be unleashed, unfit to remain constrained indefinitely. Sin watches me carefully as he sinks to his own knees, lowering his side, his burning yellow-green eyes focused, intense…sexy.

Goddess above.

I shake away the image of those eyes beholding my bare skin, knowing it is the caster’s high planting the provocative thoughts in my mind. It’s been a long while since I’ve expelled this magnitude of magic in one setting; it’s likely my resistance to its alluring effects have been reduced.

Sin nods to me, and with a silent prayer to an unnamed goddess, I release my hold. As soon as I sever the bond between the orb and I, he extinguishes it completely, allowing the chaos I conjured to return to the collective. The room is deafeningly silent without the hum of magic between us.

I rise to my feet, walk to the desk, and hoist myself onto it, crossing my legs and letting them hang over the edge. The room is a disaster. It was more than just books that toppled from their shelves—paintings lie scattered on the floor, the stool behind the easel lies on its side, and tiny glass fragments from Sin’s cup glisten on the reddish rug like freshly fallen snow.

He regains his footing and sweeps a hand over his forehead and into his hair, before running that same hand across his jaw. His footsteps promise wrath as he crosses the room and stands in front of me, drilling a disapproving glower into my face. “Negotiate,” he says, his voice low as if he’s leashing his anger.

“Release me.”

“That’s a demand, not a negotiation.”

“Fine. I want the tethering spell gone.”

“No.”

I exhale sharply. “Your eagerness for compromise is inspiring, Your Grace.”

He folds his arms across his chest again, his expression suggesting I’m running out of time to strike a bargain.

“I’m more of a risk to you and others if I’m trapped here than if I just went home. I’ve never killed anyone… but I’m growing an appetite, and I suspect I have an affinity for pompous men with long hair.” I smile warmly at him, letting my threat sink in.

“If I let you go, I have no way of knowing you won’t end up in Legion hands again. That is not a risk I will take.”

“Legion already tried forcing me to turn on you and failed. The wholeme surrendering and you locking me up thing… don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our good times already, Blackheart.”

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