“How do I know you won’t run off? We’ll do it at the same time.”
A growl rumbles in my throat. What a loathsome little ant. At first opportunity, I will crush him beneath my heel. “So be it.”
Gritting his teeth, Sonam reaches for something tucked into one of the loops of his belt. A needle of some sort. He plucks it between his fingers. As he does so, I snatch his dagger, only for Sonam to grab my wrist.
“What are you playing at?” he snaps.
“Spare me your whingeing,” I snarl. “I require an offering.”
“What—”
I take his hand roughly and drag the blade across his palm before doing the same to mine. While his blood flows red, mine comes in a startling onyx. I grab his hand and press his wound firmly tomy own, allowing our blood to mix. Where humans have no magic of their own, and the gods are an infinite well, demons can boast only a handful of spells—blood oaths being a particular specialty.
“Gods above and devils below, witness us our accord. A cure for escape, escape for a cure, command our bodies be restored.”
The moment I’ve finished my incantation, he jams the antidote into my thigh. Relief comes in the form of a wave. It swells, crests, and then crashes into me. I can finally breathe again, the firestorm raging within now quenched by the overwhelming flood that follows. I’ll admit I was worried he wouldn’t follow through on his promise.
Healing is a violent storm. My bones crack back into place like lightning. Every inch of my skin burns as if pelted by ice shards. Sonam writhes in similar agony, though I only hear him cry out once when the shattered bones of his ribs crunch into position. His cheeks are flushed, and his brow is slick with sweat, but at least he’s alive.
“You look horrendous,” I grumble once I’ve managed a breath.
“You’re one to talk,” he replies pointedly, struggling to sit up.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, I—”
“Good.”
I clench my fist and punch him square in the face. I never said anything about keeping my hands off of him. So long as I keep him breathing, I’m not in violation of my contract.
He groans loudly, pinching his bloodied nose. “What in the nine suns was that for, Fox?”
“This is all your fault! None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for you. If you wanted to go to Hell so badly, you could have just asked me to kill you.”
We’re back at each other’s throats. He reaches for his dagger; Ikick it away. I bring down my hand to strike; he throws his weight at me and tackles me to the ground. We spend a good few minutes like this, a give and take with no clear victor, until we’re both thoroughly exhausted once more. I have never felt a more destructive loathing. I don’t even hate the Maskmaker at this moment as much as I do this pitiful human stain.
We sit apart, fuming. Sonam rolls his head from side to side, stretching his neck. “Pulling me through the gates with you was wholly unnecessary.”
“I thought I was going to die!”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry? Monsters like you—”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why? It’s what you are.”
“Don’t test me, human.”
“What’s the worst you can do?” Sonam snaps.
“I’m going to rip your damn heart out.”
“I would love to see you try, Fox.”
I think about it. I truly, genuinely think about it. I can beat him black and blue all I want, but if there’s ever a moment where his heart stops, I will suffer the punishment. The blood magic that binds me to him will obliterate me in the blink of an eye. I’ve seen it happen. I know the consequences—not that I’m keen to tell Sonam any of that. He might try to lord it over my head somehow.
“You’re insufferable,” I mutter.
