Alora sat frozen on the bed. Light danced on the walls, her skin sizzling with energy. Shadows stuttered in the air, drifting like mist aroundher.
His magic.
Rune’s eyes widened.
She raised a hand, frightened. “Rune?—”
The shadows lashed out, hurdling him across the room like a discarded doll. He hit the far wall hard, shoulder slamming into the doorframe with a brutal crack before he collapsed to the floor.
He didn’t move, staring at her in disbelief.
Alora stood from the bed, wreathed in darkness, eyes glowing red. She looked glorious andterrifying.
Like a true sovereign of the dark.
Her breath shook in stunned gasps, clawed hands shaking at her sides. “What happened?”
Rune stared at her, struggling to accept the impossible.
He reached for the darkness out of instinct, a command that had always lived in his blood.
And nothing answered.
CHAPTER 40
Rune
“You… you took my power.” The words scraped out of Rune like broken glass.
Alora stared back, chest heaving, her skin lit with threads of white fire and shadow twining over her limbs. Wearing them like a mantle.
A cold quiet blossomed in his chest, sharp as winter steel. He reached out and tried again to summon them, harder, tension clawing up his throat.
Still nothing.
The shadows drifted around her affectionately as if he weren’t there. As if they had chosen another.
Chooseher.
Rune swallowed, throat painfully tight. He’d never feared anything in all his existence. But the sight of his shadows draped over her shoulders like they belonged there…like they always had belonged there.
That shook him.
The floor tilted and he stumbled. He felt… hollow. As if she had carved out his center and left him a husk without bones.
Then his gaze flickered to the mirror on the wall and his posture went rigid. The glow was gone from his eyes, now soft copper. His skin no longer pale but flushed by mortal warmth. His markings had vanished. He looked down at his clawless hands.
Rune’s voice dropped to a rasp. “What have you done to me?”
Alora took a step toward him and the shadows drew protectively around her legs in a sinuous sweep, tightening as though preparing to strike.
Noticing she was nude, Alora wrapped her arms around herself, looking around for her dress. Tendrils of darkness coiled upward obediently, sliding over her bare skin. Where they passed, fabric appeared. Black lace unfurled like frost at midnight, shaping itself into a nightgown as if the darkness itself wished to clothe its new mistress.
In moments she stood draped in shadow-silk, ethereal and devastating.
He exhaled shakily, unable to stop staring. Had his magic responded to her needs instinctively or had she unknowingly commanded it?
“Rune…” Alora whispered. Her hands trembled as she looked down at herself, at the dark tendrils coiling around her wrists like affectionate serpents. “I didn’t mean… How did I…”
