When I pulled away, having drunk my fill, my fangs buzzed with power and pleasure. I stared up at Timothy with open awe. He was panting, and even as he wielded power with the precision of a warrior, I knew my bite aroused him.
Somewhere across the cracked asphalt, Seth screamed my name as though he still had power over me, but the sound felt distant, thin, unimportant. For the first time since this nightmare bond started, his pull didn’t move me at all.
Timothy did.
“How dare you?” Seth roared. “I will take him back. I will make him suffer while you watch.” His cool charisma had exploded into an out-of-control rage, and his face was an ugly contortion I quite enjoyed.
“No,” Timothy said. “You won’t. You may have bonded him to you, but you could never touch the depths of the connectionwe share. And now I know power, I—” He faltered a moment. “I never knew it was possible...” His voice was full of wonder. He looked at me as he lifted his free hand. “You make me strong.”
The hieroglyphic light spiraling from his skin shifted into a new pattern, ancient symbols burning through the air like molten metal poured into sacred molds. The blue- green radiance deepened to the color of a raging ocean during a storm, so bright it seared afterimages onto my retinas.
A tsunami of raw force gathered height, a wall of divine energy that made my bones vibrate and my teeth ache with its proximity.
Panic flickered across Seth's face.
The ocean of reaper dogs peeled away, clearing the way.
The light slammed forward, rushing toward Seth, but as it neared, it separated into Timothy’s tendrils. They sliced through the crimson snakes and right through Seth himself.
With the precision of a surgeon, the tendrils sliced and pulled and cut out chunks of red light from Seth. The red spiraled off into yellow wisps that rocketed away.
Souls. They were souls of the living who’d inadvertently given their power to Seth. I wonder if those people ever felt their absence or recognized the sensation of their souls rejoining with their bodies.
Seth screamed as the magic was cut from him. The sound echoed down the neon canyon and rolled through the city like a dying storm.
Before I could pick my jaw off the ground, I was yanked forward. Timothy’s hand fisted in my shirt and yanked me toward him with such force our teeth nearly clashed. His mouth crashed against mine, devouring, claiming. A growl vibrated from his chest into mine as I seized fistfuls of his hair, my nails scraping his scalp. The taste of his blood still lingered on my tongue as I kissed him back with savage desperation, our bodiespressed so tightly together I could feel his heart hammering against my ribs.
When we broke, he was grinning. “I’m sorry it took so long to get here.”
A weak laugh escaped me. “I’m sorry I blood-bonded to a douchebag.”
“Speaking of the douchebag,” Miranda said, walking up from the side, Xander right behind her, “or as I like to call him, the dick pickle.” She nodded in Seth’s direction.
Timothy released me as we crossed the distance to where Seth now lay. He groaned and mumbled. His skin had grayed and wrinkled as if some of his life force had been sucked out.
“What are you going to do?” Seth spat. “Let your dog behead me?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Miranda said, pulling Bob and stepping toward him.
“Miranda,” Timothy said, holding up his hand. “I’ll handle this.”
With an audiblesching, she re-sheathed her blade with a smirk.
“You can’t kill me,” Seth coughed. “You don’t know how to send me back to the cradle of life. I’m a god like you.”
Timothy looked down at him. “You’re right. But I’d rather keep you alive, as a reminder to those who might think to cross me. A cautionary tale.”
Seth laughed again, but it was less sure this time.
“First, I’m going to take your mind.”
The hieroglyphic tendrils unfurled from his skin again, long ribbons of blue-green light that shimmered like molten glass. They drifted toward Seth with calm, deliberate purpose, circling his head until they formed a glowing ring. The light tightened around Seth’s skull, tendrils sliding into him with the quiet finality of a scalpel making its first incision.
I watched them thread through the air, the symbols shifting and rearranging as they worked.
Seth’s eyes went wide. His breath hitched. His remaining power flared in one last desperate red pulse before the glyphs constricted.
There was no scream this time. Just a shudder. A sag. His limbs loosened and his expression unfocused, as if someone had taken the architecture of his mind and reshuffled all the hallways.
