“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly.
Another racking sob tore at her chest, she struggled to hold it in, but she was failing. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. The pain was too much. Her head bowed.
“I can take it all away for you. Every last drop,” he said, stroking the back of her head. “All you have to do is tell me what you did with the Enneahedron.” His hand slid down her face, lifting her chin. And then the iron nail appeared. “But if you don’t...”
The tip of the nail hovered just beside her left eye. Though it was the smallest bit of iron in the room, its malignant energy pressed against her as if it were a hundred times larger, magnifying all her pains. They seared a million times more than before, like her very soul was being burned. The nail hovered just above her skin, tracing the curve of her face, her lips, her chin. A fresh sweat broke out over her. Her whole body trembled out of control.
And then the nail disappeared into his gloved fist.
“I can make it all . . . go . . . away,” he said.
“Kill... me,” she begged, tears flowing freely, lips quivering.
He gazed at her, studying her for a long moment. How could eyes so dark be so bright?
And then he stabbed the nail down into her thigh. She pitched back, screaming. The iron flooded her, a thousand white-hot knives slicing up her leg.
He clamped his hand over the nail, fingers digging into her flesh. Seizing her hair, keeping her head canted back, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not going to let you die... Magpie.”
He released her hair and her leg and very slowly extracted the nail from her body. Blood dripped off the end and began to spread around her wound, soaking into her jeans.
His bare thumb pressed to the puncture. The pain exploded and she bit down hard, gritting her teeth. And then the sparkling coolness began to seep into her again, washing away the ache until it was almost completely gone. She moaned.
Catching the back of her neck, his wonderfully cool lips grazed her ear. Healing waves lapped at her bleeding soul. “Tell me where.”
His mouth swept along her cheek so he could bring his gaze to hers again. The fine arch of his brow, the upturned edges of his eyes, the straight line of his nose, and the steep cliffs of his cheeks, she had never seen anyone so beautiful. She didn’t just want to tell him where she’d sent Kirk and the Enneahedron, she wanted to curl into his lap and lick his neck.
She smiled weakly, gazing longingly at his lips.
Too bad he’d stabbed her with an iron nail.
“Fuck . . . you.”
He smiled back at her. “You know, I like you Pixie Raes more all the time.”
He slammed the nail into her shoulder, knocking her chair back. Her head cracked against the stone. Finally, the pain disappeared.
“ARE YOU AWAKE?” a voice said from the darkness weighing down on her.
Her tongue flitted over the empty hole where her tooth should’ve been. The first molar on the bottom was gone, leaving nothing but half-healed, tender gum. Every inch of her, every fiber, every cell, ached.
“Magda?”
A gurgling groan escaped her.
Her thoughts pulled together sluggishly. Finally, after what seemed a long time, she recalled the name that went with the voice.
“Kaelan?”
“You’re not well,” he said.
A humorless chuckle scraped out of her throat. Breathing hurt, thinking hurt, hearing hurt. She allowed her eyes to close, but it didn’t make a difference. Open, closed, they hurt. It felt as though all the blood was drying up in her veins.
“I believe you’re going to die soon,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Death has a particular scent.”
