Luca and I crash into the temple behind him, only to find him stunned in place. I turn to Luca, ready with a warning at the tip of my tongue, only to find him stunned as well. I grip my scribe tighter and whirl on Rad.
On Simon, who’s bound to the temple’s altar, an ember burning just above his heart.
“No!” I cry out, dashing forward.
Straight into the purple-black thorns of an omega trap. It drags me down to the stone floor, briars tangling around my wrists, my hips.
I don’t even feel them.
Simon thrashes on the altar. “Junes, go! Get out of here!” he grits out, not knowing I’m already trapped.
Helpless.
“What do you want, Rad? I’ll do anything! What will it take for you to release him?”
The alpha stands over Simon, manipulating the ember with his scribe, driving it through layers of flesh before drawing it back out. All without any emotion on his face whatsoever.
I can’t help my low whine because I know what the ember does. That it could kill Simon at any moment, and forever torture him if he lives.
At my whine, Rad turns and it’s then that his eyes light.
It’s as I struggle against the omega trap’s thorns, trying to free my wrist enough to cast the inverse of the trap’s wicked sigils, that a beaming smile splits his face, so close to Baphomet’s vicious grin on the Soldiers’ wicked masks.
“What it will take, beloved, is my bite on your neck.”
My blood ices in my veins, even as it streams from the thorn-prick cuts that wrap around my wrists, even as it makes my fingers slip around my scribe.
It falls to the ground with a metallic chime, just like the chimes that tinkle in the light spring breeze.
And I’m truly trapped. Trapped with no recourse.
“He’s lying, Juniper,” Simon pants, drawing Rad’s attention once more.
“Why must you all misbehave?” He flicks his scribe, and the ember sinks into Simon’s chest, burning through his flesh. Simon lets out an agonized scream.
“Much better,” Rad murmurs as he stalks toward me.
I rip my wrist against the stinging thorns, tearing my flesh just as Simon’s burns. I can think of only one way to escape, and it’s a long shot. But if blood magic is as powerful as Rad swears it is…
With shaking, bloodied fingers, I draw the first of the inverse sigils on the temple’s floor. I have to keep Rad talking. I have to escape, have to save Simon. Just six more sigils.
“Tell me how I’ll behave,” I gasp out, tracing the second sigil.
Rad looks over his shoulder at Simon, drawing the ember back out of his chest.
“Tell him you’re done.”
“I already did.” I swipe my blood through the angles of the third sigil.
“Then why was he sleeping outside Anders’ room, curled up with his faggot alpha?”
Saints, he was? They were?
“I don’t know,” I admit, truthfully.
Rad shrugs. “He’ll be no issue soon. You’ll give up your hood rat alpha toy, too,” he says, looking over at Luca, disgust twisting his features.
“Yes,” I promise, drawing the fourth sigil. Only three more. “What else?”
