Try.
The word gnaws at what’s left of my composure, and I can’t help saying, “You don’t believe it will work.”
She grins at me. All shark again. “I believe this trip will be full of opportunities wherein I can save your ass and thus save myself from a lifetime attached to a sadistic prick.” She plucks the cord, and it reverberates with thick merrow condescension. Gods, I hate her. Enough that part of me almost relishes our deaths looming sooner than she thinks. For the briefest of seconds, I imagine themoment she realizes we’re doomed. I imagine horror in those wide turquoise eyes. True, unyieldingterror. I imagine the life dimming in them, and her corpse bent and broken in the sea before Mortem finally claims her. Claims us.
If the fabled heart has no power, the cost will be hers to pay.
Still, I’m not willing to risk myself on a petty feud with a wretched mermaid. There is too much ahead of me. Potential. Power. Greatness. I cannot die yet, so I offer her my hand. Elder Branche never taught us how to work with monsters. Only how to defeat them. But I’m assuming it’s much the same as working with any other ally.Keep them close, never let your guard down, don’t trust anyone, and always, always maintain the upper hand.
The less Zephyra fears me, the less she’ll suspect me, allowing me to remain two steps ahead.
She blinks at my outstretched hand. “What do you want? A high five?”
A battalion of curses wage war between my ears.Relax. Breathe. Handle her like any other.I flex my fingers and prowl toward her.
“It’s a concession. If we are going to work together—because like it or not, we arestucktogether—then we need to reach an agreement. Otherwise, we won’t survive the week.”
“Fine.” She shrugs as if supremely unconcerned by the prospect. Another lie. “I agree for you to shut the fuck up and let me lead. You clearly don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Careful, Zephyra.” Magic rattles my rib cage, begging to be loosed. Begging to punish her for the blatant disrespect, to teach herexactlywhom she keeps insulting. Anyone else would be dust beneath my feet. “I am not a petty thief, a criminal underlord, or even the palace guard. I am Warlock Arion Stone. I am Mortia’s deadliest weapon, and I have single-handedly decimated armies from Tempest, from Fax, from theSyl. My power is greater than that of any warlock, living or dead, and—”
“—here you are, asking a mermaid for help,” she finishes for me, batting her lashes sweetly. “Humiliating, isn’t it? I imagine it’ll be even more so when all those petty thieves, criminal underlords,palace guards, and weak-ass warlocks catch up with you under Constane’s orders. You were his little plaything, right? His pet?” She tuts and shakes her head. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
Relax. Breathe. Relax. Breathe.
The emotions churning in my stomach don’t belong to me. They’re her fault. The cord’s fault. I can’t afford another outburst; I can’t afford to lose control as I did earlier. It’s what shewants—to provoke me, to manipulate me. Still, I can’t seem to stop anger from slithering through the cracks in my chest when she’s around. Though Elder Branche would’ve punished—grievouslypunished—the lapse in judgement, I can’tstopenergy from cracking at my fingertips. And I want to shake her. To throttle her, if that’s what it’ll take to make her understand.
This is not a game.
We are going to die if she refuses to work together.
She arches a brow because she knows, her lush lips twisting as silence descends over us.
“You want to reach a compromise, Arion Stone?” Her tongue drags slow across her lower lip, and I tense at the sight. At the sound of my full name on that wicked tongue.
“Yes.”
“Fine. These are my terms.” She saunters closer, remaining just out of reach. I resist the urge to seize the cord and close the distance. “I want to be free of you. Forever. I want to repay this debt, and I never want to see your face again. If it takes the heart to do that, wonderful. If it takes me saving your sorry skin, great. But I will not be shackled to you at the end of this. I…” She sucks in a sharp breath, and when she speaks again, it might be the only truth she’s ever uttered. “I will not be shackled toanyone.”
It’s hard to argue with that. In fact, it—“Sounds like paradise.”
“Yes.” Her gaze lowers to my palm splayed wide, inches from her now. She hesitates before looking up at me again. “So we’re in agreement? We put up with each other until the debt is repaid?”
“No lying, cheating, or harming each other,” I warn. “We’re in thistogether.”
“Okay, warlock.” She nods, and I struggle to smother the cursedrelief coursing through me. She still eyes me warily, after all, as though I might suddenly bite her. As though we have any other choice than the one forced upon us by my stupid mistake.
“Okay, mermaid,” I say back.
She reaches delicate fingers toward me.
And the cord—itsmolders.
As if we’ve been lit on fire, as if we’re burning at the stake. She hasn’t even touched me, and lust prickles along my skin in the worst sort of torture. Immediate. All-consuming andinexplicable. I don’t simply want her touch; Ineedit. I crave it as if she’s my last meal and I have to savor every bite. Her fingers twitch—curl—as if she feels it too, her hand wavering in the air so close to my own. And for one wild, fleeting second, I imagine capturing it, crushing her against me. Tasting her skin as I devour every inch, learning the curve of her throat, the shell of her ear, and the delicious dip of her collarbone. Lower still. Unbidden, my gaze drops to the swell of her breasts through my tunic, and the sight of it—ofher, this pink-haired demon wearing my clothes—makes my entire body tighten to the point of pain. My magic roils. My cock hardens.
In that wild, fleeting second, I need Zephyra of the Syl as I’ve never needed anything else.
I am a warlock, however. I do not bow to desire. I do not bow to anything.
