We all agreed it was too dangerous. Way too risky.
Worst risk? Julien loses himself to his bloodlust, breaks out, finds Red and drains… I can’t finish that one.
Another? Maybe he feeds from her, andmaybehe holds back, but it’s too late. She’ll never trust us again, she’s terrified, she leaves us.
And the best option? Still horrific.
Julien keeps rotting in the Pit for as long as his darkness makes him. Months, years, decades.Centuries?
I can’t even think about that. Can’t imagine that long without my buddy by my side. I trauma-bonded to that fucker the moment we met. He doesn’t get to leave me—
Warmth engulfs my hand, and the horrid, gnawing thoughts melt away until all I see is her.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” Her voice is soft, sad eyes searching mine. “I just think I could help. Maybe I could manipulate his emotions? Ease his hunger?”
She must see the second those horrid thoughts regain power, because she immediately changes tack.
“Go home and rest, Sai. We can—”
Her fingers, her heat, her calming touch, it all starts to slip from me—
“No. Don’t.” I shake my head, tightening my hold as I stare down at her hand, see the dull pulse of my markings barely light her skin. “I need this.” I swallow, looking back at her. “I need you.”
Shouldn’t have said that last part. Should’ve kept it locked in my head,damn it. But it’s the truth, she’s the only thing pulling me through this.
When Julien was in the Pit last time, when I considered going to the Fae Realm just tofeelsomething, she called to me. Stopped me.
That same night, I find out she’d somehow eased Julien’s beast. Enough that he didn’t even try to feed from her.
He came back to me, smug as fuck, told me I’d lost our bet, then laid out what he thought she was to him—us.
Her thumb brushes over my hand, and the marking there buzzes wildly, filling with bright blue light unlike all the others.
“Do all faes have these markings?” she asks, her gaze tracing the lines.
“If they’re powerful enough. The more markings, the more power,” I say, before dropping my voice into a dirty whisper. “And I’ve got them everywhere, Red.”
She laughs softly, and they pulse again. Fuck, it felt good to hear and feel that.
“Are you born with them?” She’s still touching me, caressing me. It’s insane how just that tiny brush of her thumb calms me.
“Nah. When we hit puberty, our power—light or dark—reveals. That’s when we get them. Hurts like a motherfucker too.”
She freezes, looking up. “It hurts?”
“Not now, baby.” Ah fuck, wrong headspace to remember I can’t say that.
I brace for the sharp tongue, for her eyes to narrow into slits. But they don’t. Just that steady, patient gaze.
“Don’t stop.” I nod at her thumb. “Please.”
She continues, and the sigh slips out of me, heavy, helpless.
“When we first get our markings, it’s like… our power is trying to burst out of us. Some faes even die.” She flinches a little, but tries to hide it by shifting on her stool. “And some hardly get any markings at all. But to faes, they’re a status symbol. The more markings, the more power, and more power means more privileges.” I scoff, shaking my head. “A load of shit if you ask me.”
She arches a brow.
“Just because you’re powerful doesn’t mean you deserve more.” Julien would be so proud of that line, but I can’t think about him right now. “And, sometimes,” I say, quieter, “power means nothing if it isn’t the right kind.”
