He squatted in front of her and reached out towards her throat.
She flinched away.
Vail snatched his hand back and withdrew again, shuffling backwards, placing some distance between them.
He still wasn’t quite with her. She could see it in his glassy eyes. Over the time she had known him, she had come to recognise that the black spots discolouring his violet irises were a visible sign that he wasn’t fully in control.
He threw her a pained look that conveyed every feeling she could sense in him through their link and turned his face away.
She rubbed her throat, fighting to breathe normally and subdue the fear that filled every inch of her, driving her magic to the fore to protect her. It wasn’t the thought of that magic provoking Vail into another attack that made her battle her fear with everything she had.
It was the pain she could feel in him. Not a physical hurt, but an emotional one.
He sat balanced on his toes, his nails idly scraping the stones between his bare feet and his eyes averted. Tears glittered on his long dark lashes and she could sense every drop of the pain that tore at him, together with the darkness and the shadows that haunted him, tainting his heart and his soul.
Corrupting and weakening him.
She could sense it all through their link, experienced it as she had his dark hunger to kill her because she bore magic.
Just as she could also feel his distress and horror, and knew in her heart that it was because she had faced the monster within him.
He hadn’t wanted her to see those things. The link between them faded and she knew he had the power to control it and was closing it and shutting her out again.
Rosalind sank onto her backside and stared at him in silence, unsure what to say and what to do. He continued to scrape his nails over the stone, the action methodical, a set length and interval. It seemed to calm him and she didn’t want to interrupt, felt he needed a moment to pull himself back together and pretend she wasn’t there, bearing witness to this side of him.
He was fractured, in mind, body and spirit. Before her was a broken and dangerous male, and his hold on his sanity seemed even more tentative and fragile than she had thought.
Why?
Who had broken him?
Her heart said it had been a witch. He hated her kind for a reason, and she had a feeling she didn’t want to know, even as she needed the answers.
He murmured softly in the elf tongue, the words lyrical and beautiful, and his violet gaze darted towards her and away again. He inched closer, remaining on his haunches, his bare feet shuffling on the stone. He flicked her another glance, scraped his claws over the stones again, and whispered in his language. She caught a ‘ki’ara’ in there and the edge of pain in his eyes as they met hers before leaping away again. He shuffled a little closer.
She kept still, waiting to see what he would do.
With his eyes remaining averted and his face turned away from her, he reached out and gently laid his left hand on her throat. Her pain faded and her eyes widened as bruises appeared on his neck.
He was taking her injuries.
The bruises disappeared quickly, the remnants of her healing spell taking care of them for him.
He lowered his hand and his head, the longer strands of his blue-black hair falling forwards, and clawed the stone floor.
She was about to speak and shatter the silence when he blinked, lifted his head and raised his right hand.
“It worked.” He turned his arm this way and that, staring at it as if it was a miracle.
Completely unaware of what had happened.
His purple gaze swung her way and the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It faded and he frowned, reached for her but withdrew his hand before it could make contact with her cheek.
“You have been crying. Why?”
Rosalind didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had attacked her and had come close to killing her, not when all the pain and suffering that had been in his eyes just seconds ago was gone.
She rubbed her cheeks, hiding the evidence of her pain, afraid he would keep asking about it and would realise he had hurt her. She never had been very good at lying, but it was better than telling him the truth.
“Don’t break your other hand,” she whispered and looked down at it, hiding her eyes from him and sending a prayer that he wouldn’t detect her coming lie. “Healing your right one drained me.”
She waited for his response, holding her breath and hoping he would do as she asked. She didn’t want him to go through that madness again. Not because it frightened her or because he might kill her this time. She didn’t want it to happen because she felt sure that if his mind eventually healed enough for him to remember it, for him to recall the things he did when lost to the darkness, he would hate himself.
She wanted to spare him that pain.
“Try teleporting,” she said but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
Pale blue-purple light burst across her eyes and when her vision returned, he was gone.
The sounds of bones crunching and the muffled cry of the guard outside the door turned her stomach. The scent of blood reached her nose, acrid and sharp, stirring memories of her own that she would rather forget. She stared at the slick patch creeping under the door, her breathing accelerating as her heart began to pound.
She had spilled so much blood.
She had killed.
Rosalind backed away from the wet pool of dark liquid, unable to take her eyes off it as a horrific replay of the battle flashed through her mind. The agonised cries of her victims rang in her ears and bright bursts of colourful magical spells detonated across her eyes. She had taken so many lives. She had murdered them all.
She shook her head. She had done it to help the others, to protect Thorne’s men and those of Prince Loren, and to keep Olivia and Sable safe for them. It had been the warriors of the Fifth Realm or her and her comrades.
She couldn’t have saved both of them.
She’d had to choose.
Screams shrieked in her ears and she covered them with her hands, trying to block out the sound. Bloodied hands reached for her, flesh peeling away to reveal bone and tendon, and she squeezed her eyes shut and backed away, her heart beating wildly as she desperately tried to evade their grasp.
Her back hit something solid.
And warm.
“Witch.” Vail’s snarl shattered the illusion engulfing her and she swiftly turned to face him. The dark edge to his expression melted away in an instant as he looked down at her, right into her eyes.
She should have shut down her fear and hidden it before turning towards him, but she had been gripped by a powerful need to see him and know she was no longer on the battlefield, going against everything she had once stood for and taking lives instead of saving them.
Now he had seen it in her, the same darkness he feared her seeing in him. They were both murderers. They had both done terrible things. And she feared she would lose her mind as he had lost his, and the darkness would consume her.
He cocked his head, studying her, and she looked away from him, unable to hold his gaze while he was scrutinising her, attempting to see in her eyes what she hid in her heart. He couldn’t know. Regardless of how she had felt a few days ago, when she had thought he could tell her how to cope with the pain of having taken lives, she could never tell him. It was her burden to bear. Her sin. He had enough of his own.
Besides, she wasn’t even sure he would care or give her the ridiculous comfort she needed if she did tell him.
The urge still pressed down on her though, making her squirm. She held it back, convinced it would pass if she ignored it for long enough and telling herself that Vail wouldn’t give her the comfort she desired. He wouldn’t care that she had taken a few lives and it haunted her, so why did she wish that he would?
Mother earth help her but it was becoming impossible to keep her distance from him, to pretend that he wa
sn’t the most gorgeous man she had ever met despite the darkness he held within him and his madness, and that she hadn’t found herself fantasising about kissing him on more than one occasion. She was doomed. If not to death, then perhaps to a broken heart. Vail would sooner kill her than love her, and she was a fool if she thought he was capable of anything but hate for her.
He stared at her for what seemed like hours, the thick heavy silence pressing down on her, and then metal scraped on metal.
Rosalind risked a swift glance his way to see what he was doing.
Unlocking his remaining cuff. It clattered to the ground, and he placed two thin silver and black bands around his wrists. She gasped as black scales swarmed from them, rippling over his skin and covering him in skin-tight armour that left nothing to the imagination as it hugged his powerful body. She had heard that elf armour responded to the owner’s mental commands, and that only weapons forged of the same metal could penetrate it. It was magic. There had to be some latent form of magic in the ore that allowed it to reshape itself and shrink into a tiny space, or grow to cover an entire six-feet-six of toned, handsome elf.
She shook her head and mentally deleted the last part of that thought.
Vail pulled a short silver sword out of thin air and held it out to her.
Rosalind instantly backed away, shaking her head. She couldn’t lay hands on anything designed for killing when death cries still haunted her. She couldn’t trust herself with a weapon. Not anymore. Never again.
The elf raised an eyebrow at her and the sword disappeared.
He flexed his fingers and his black armour covered them, transforming them into serrated sharp claws. That was what he had expected to happen that day when they had first met in his cell, when he had flexed his fingers all those times. He had been distraught because of the loss of his armour. He held his hand out to her.
“Come. Female.”
She hesitated, wary of touching him. Could he bear her touch without ill effect when wearing his armour? It provided a protective layer between them, preventing skin contact, but it wouldn’t stop him from sensing her magic.
He flexed his fingers again.
Rosalind placed her hand into his and gasped as pale blue-purple light swept over his body, down his arm and up hers, and the cold dark swallowed her again.
They landed in the corridor outside the cell and Rosalind’s eyes widened as they fell on the dead demon guard, bile scorching her throat before she turned her back on the gruesome sight. Vail released her and moved around her. The strange light flashed again and she sensed Vail on the other side of the door. Ditching the dead demon in the cell to cover their tracks?
Rosalind supposed that covert tactics were probably Vail’s forte having spent several thousand years evading Loren and everyone out to capture him.
He reappeared in front of her and she stumbled back a step, her heart leaping into her throat. It was going to take her some time to get used to him unexpectedly popping into existence.
He hesitated and then grabbed her hand again, and teleported.
Her head spun this time, mind whirling as they reappeared in the corridor outside his old cell in the dungeon.
Fenix got to his feet and casually strode to the bars of his cell. “All went to plan then?”
Vail nodded. Rosalind frowned. The two men had conspired with each other, forming a plan to get her out of solitary and back with them so they could all escape together?
She was surprised, but glad that Fenix was coming with them. It would help her maintain some distance between her and Vail, and she needed that right now.
Vail released her, teleported into Fenix’s cell and unlocked his cuffs for him. The incubus tossed them away and stretched his arms above his head, causing the muscles of his bare chest to flex. Rosalind muttered a spell to protect against his charms, even though she knew it wouldn’t work while her wrists were still bound. Fenix winked at her.
Vail tossed a snarl over his shoulder at her and then quickly looked away, but not before she caught the conflict in his purple eyes.
It seemed this bond had him as confused and torn as she was about it. She wanted to ask if there was a way to break it, but failed to see the point in wasting her breath. Elves had one fated female they could bond with and that reeked of a forever commitment to her.
Her eyes widened.
“Mother earth…”
She was immortal.
As a witch, she aged slower than humans, but she wasn’t immortal. She had reached her hundredth year in this world, and had another fifteen or so before she went through her second transition. That transition would have made her ageless, her appearance fixed in what mortals perceived as mid-thirties, but it wouldn’t have made her immortal.
Would she even go through that second transition now?
Vail had already fixed her appearance for her, changing her biology with his blood and the bond.
What if she didn’t go through it? She was powerful and had mastered many high level spells years before others in her family had been able to, but her second transition would unlock her powers to a greater extent.
She needed to go through that transition if she was to reach her full potential as a witch.
Fenix teleported out of the cell and into the corridor beside her, and said in the fae tongue, “Five quid says I can guess what you’re thinking.”
Rosalind scowled up at him. “I wouldn’t even give you a penny. Bloody bastard elf.”
Fenix chuckled. “That would be your bloody bastard elf prince husband.”
A shiver snaked down her spine and she stared into the cell at Vail. He glanced her way, light traced over the contours of his skin-tight black armour, and he disappeared. She braced herself a second before he reappeared next to Fenix.
Not next to her.
Was he going to use Fenix as a sort of blocker now?
She couldn’t blame him if he did. She had been planning to do the same thing, using Fenix as a physical wall to keep her distance from Vail.
Vail made a silver sword appear in his hand and held it out to Fenix. The incubus took it without hesitation and executed a few jabs and twirls with it.
“Nice.” He practically purred in approval of the weapon and she envied him a little, wishing she’d had the courage to take the blade for herself.
Rosalind looked down at her cuffs, unsure whether she wanted them removed. With them dampening her power, she couldn’t kill anyone. All she could do was heal. All she could do was good. She was safe with them on, and the thought of giving them up twisted her insides into knots and had her heart beginning to race.
She would be useless in a fight with the cuffs on though, restricting her movements, and there was no way they were going to get out of the castle and away without encountering trouble. She had incapacitating spells at her command. She could use them to freeze anyone who dared to attack them. She could get them out without them resorting to killing.
Rosalind sucked down a steadying breath and held her hands out to Vail, the length of thick chain between them rattling as it swung.
Vail stepped towards her, the key in his hand, and then stopped.
A chill went through her.
“Get on with it. Remove them.” Her heart started to pound as her gaze darted between his and the keys. Something flickered in his violet eyes. She shook her head and lurched towards him, making a grab for the keys.
They disappeared from his hand.
Her thoughts rattled at a million miles per hour, leaping between two conclusions, neither of which she liked.
Either he intended to leave her bound or he intended to leave her here.
“Don’t you dare leave me,” she whispered, fear getting the better of her. She didn’t want to be trapped here anymore, and the guards would kill her when they discovered Vail and Fenix were gone. They would punish her for their actions and escape.
The hard angles of his face softened a touch, just enough that she noticed it, and r
elief crashed over her, bringing with it startling warmth as she stared up into his eyes, catching a glimmer of what might have been concern or compassion.
It lasted barely a heartbeat, a faint flicker of something good and sweet, before darkness consumed it.
“I will not, but I cannot release you. Your power.” His face twisted and he buried his clawed fingers in his black hair, clutching his head. “I can sense it now. Pushing. Evil. Wretched witch.”
Rosalind took a step back and he jerked his head up, his eyebrows furrowed and purple eyes imploring her, as if he feared her taking another step away. But why?
The inky spots were back in his irises, infesting the beautiful clear amethyst, and they multiplied as she stared into his eyes. With his dampening restraints gone, and all his powers returned, he could feel the magic in her clearer than before and it was playing havoc with him. There was something else in his eyes too, a deeper fear, one that controlled him to a degree.
Fear for himself or for her?
“Vail?” she whispered and his grip on his head tightened, he looked away and then back at her. “Tell me why you won’t remove them.”
She was pushing him too hard but she needed to know. Having her powers bound would stop her from being able to hurt him, and others, and she wanted that, but she also hated feeling her magic trapped inside her. The chain between the cuffs was short too and restrictive. It would be easy for her to fall and be unable to save herself, and she would be useless in a fight. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself.
She would have to rely on him and he had given her no reason to believe that he would protect her.
Rosalind looked down at the cuffs clamped around her wrists. If they stayed on, she felt certain she would meet her doom just as her grandmother predicted. If she had a date with death, she at least wanted it to be on her terms. She wanted a shot at surviving and that meant having her powers available. But if they were available, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop herself from killing again. If they came under attack, she would defend herself and Fenix, and Vail, and she felt certain that she would kill in order to save them. She would do it without thinking and without hesitation, and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to bear knowing that she was capable of such a thing.
Tempted by a Rogue Prince Page 13