I watched him, noting how he avoided my eyes and fidgeted with the cuff around his wrist.
“You want me to open the genie cuff.” My voice was flat.
“I can’t think of another way.” His eyes rose to meet mine. “I can do it faster than anybody else. My magic is better equipped to combat dark magic than a vampire’s, and I’ve had experience with demon taint before.”
“Have you?” He’d neglected to mention that earlier.
“It’s the best way.”
I watched him. He had demonstrated a liking for her. Everything about his demeanor said he would do anything to save her, even putting aside his dislike of me.
“You swear you’ll do everything in your power to save her?” I asked.
“On my honor, I swear to stop at nothing to rescue Caroline Bradley.”
I felt a spark of something, as if the universe had taken notice of his oath. It might have meant nothing, just a passing fancy of mine, but I believed him. In his desire to help Caroline, at least.
“Give me your hand.”
He looked startled and stared at me as if he couldn’t believe I’d agreed. He placed his wrist in mine and watched closely as I hit the sequence that would release him. The band popped open and dropped to the table. Its copper a dull sheen against the wood.
For a moment Peter sat frozen, then it was like he took a deep breath and power swamped the room, stretching and kneading like a cat waking from a long nap. His eyes took on a greenish glow.
My muscles locked in place as my instincts roared at me to run. It was like looking into a great yawning maw, one that intended to disrupt everything I held dear.
“Thank you, Aileen.”
I drew a deep breath as green sparked along my vision. Pain seared my skin, diving deep into the muscle, straight for the bone. Pain so great I couldn’t even draw breath to give it voice.
The world clicked off.
Chapter Sixteen
I knew before I opened my eyes that something was wrong. Every muscle in my body ached worse than any ‘take no prisoners’ workout I’d ever conducted, and my head hurt in a way that told me that moving was going to be excruciating.
The events came racing back to me. Peter asked me to remove the cuff and like an idiot I had.
My mark blazed to life, sending white hot fire shooting down my nerves.
I whimpered, curling around the arm.
“The pain will pass,” Peter said from above me.
I managed to crack my eyes open and stare at the room around me. It looked like a dungeon. Like an actual sixteenth century dungeon complete with dripping water and straw on the floor.
“It’s from the buildup of magic over the last few months,” he said conversationally, turning his back on me and walking to a wooden table loaded down with books and neon colored liquids. “Under normal circumstances, you would have gotten a steady trickle over a long period of time which would have increased your tolerance level. That process is now happening all at once. I’m told it can be quite agonizing.” He sounded happy about that.
“I’m going to kill you,” I said, my face pressed into the stone floor.
“Big words from someone who doesn’t even have the strength to stand.”
Very dead. I was going to kill him very dead.
“Dead, Peter. Very, very dead.”
“Stop being so melodramatic.” I could practically feel him rolling his eyes “The power rush should be slowing any moment now.”
He was right. The pain was lessening from ‘want to cut my arm off to get away from it’ to ‘wanting to curl up for the next few centuries to avoid aggravating it’.
