I said nothing, having already said too much.
“Interesting. A bit sentimental, are we? Very well. The scars are yours to keep, if you wish.” He flashed a quick grin, set my feet on the tiles, then stepped back, tugging a little black bag from his breast pocket. “On to your second surprise, then.”
My heart leapt, splashing bile across the back of my tongue.
“I bought these the day we met,” he said, pulling the drawstring and dumping the contents into his palm. Three delicate golden circlets—two small, one large—and a fourth. Thicker. Masculine.
I recoiled, as much as I was able, for the pure Glaith buried within the gold sang a sinister song. Promising things I didn’t want to think about, reminding me of broken Priestesses kneeling in the dirt.
“The technology is a little crude,” he admitted, setting the fourth circlet on the edge of the sink, “but it serves the purpose we need.” He flicked a tiny hinge with his thumbnail, letting one of the smaller manacles swing open.
With a whine, I leaned back, watching the pretty gold sparkle in the dim lighting.
“Five years,” he whispered, closing the gap between us once more, grinning. “I’m going to get insomuch trouble for this.”
“Don’t touch me—”
Ignoring my attempt to knee him in the balls, the captain thumbed my chin, ki whipping through me at his touch. Uncontested, he slipped the two smaller manacles around my bound wrists, clicking them shut.
I squealed, back arching, trying to keep the Glaith off my skin. “Get it off me!”
Dark eyes glittering, the captain waited for me to settle. “Here’s how this works, little Priestess—”
“Release me!”
He cleared his throat. “To anyone else, this is nothing more than pretty, golden jewelry. But to you”—he smirked—“tome, it’s something else altogether.”
I followed his every movement, unblinking. Heart pounding. “Let me go, Captain Rawlings.”
“Do you see this little glass vial?” he asked, tapping said object of interest with his forefinger. When my eyes didn’t waver from his face, he jerked his damp sleeve back from his wrist and claimed his knife. “It’s quite simple, really. These chains have a heart of Glaith, and to bind us, they require a blood exchange.” He glanced at my glittering wrists. “I can feel it burning you, you know. Even without these chains—without a true bond—we have a connection. Your blood calls to mine, Mila.”
“My blood screams for your death!”
“Such fire,” he murmured, grinning as he pushed matted, wet hair back from my face.
Above my head, my claws sunk deep into bloodless palms. “You will not do this.”
In response, he nicked one of the many claw marks I’d left on his forearm and filled the glass vial with a single swipe through the crimson smear. At my wrists and in his hands, the chains glowed white-hot for an instant, then returned to their original golden hue before I’d registered any discomfort. “I understand the bond is quite painful at first, and I’m sorry for that.” He stroked the delicate column of my throat and I hissed, trying to twist away. To avoid the collar. Heedless of my wishes, however, it snapped shut with a gentle click. Cold and inert against my skin.
Threats of harm were useless here! Against him. An empty bluff he didn’t bother to call. I was restrained, cut off from the Grandmother and my dark Truth while he remained strong. In possession of that stupid pendant I’d risked so much to reclaim. My gaze flicked around the room, seeking something—anything—I could use. But there was nothing. Nothing but a smirking, victorious captain admiring his work.
“Beautiful.” He turned, retrieving the fourth, masculine cuff from the sink. The tiny vial already filled with a splash of crimson I could only presume was my blood. Certainly, enough had been spilled to satisfy his sick need. The exchange.
Something inside me quivered. Seething with fury. No pretty golden bracelets could possibly hold one such as me! To allow it would be an insult I simply would not abide. It disintegrated—whatever flimsy dam held the darkness in check withered at my command. Hungry. Reaching.
“Too late,” he murmured with a sad little shrug, then fit the final manacle to his right wrist—opposite the matte-black mark of the Empire on the other.
Fire erupted where gold touched my skin and darkness be damned, I screamed until my voice gave out.
It burned!Burned!
Writhing, I tried to scrape the molten gold off my skin before it chewed through my bones. Before it left me a headless, handless corpse! Without the air left to gasp, I flailed, my every muscle seized against icy-hot intensity the likes of which I could scarcely grasp.
Freezing and burning, I felt it spill through my veins, trickling toward my heart. Oozing and rushing, contradicting my every sense until there was nothing at all but agony, and I would havebeggedfor mercy—given whatever he wanted—had I been able to utter the words.
When the pain ceased, I sagged. Limp, dangling from the ceiling, sweat tracing every inch of my flushed, bedazzled skin.
“Shh,” he whispered, propping me up, taking the weight off my shoulders. “It’s over now, pet. It’s over.”
