The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 46

Kiran performed the next phase of bleeding with efficiency.

Cutting into her flesh, his brow furrowed a little as his eyes trailed the various scars that lined her legs. They bothered him. He tried to hide it, but it flashed in his eyes.

Let him be disgusted. Despite the sting of his words earlier, Imani wasn't ashamed of doing what she had to do to survive. If that made her a whore, so be it.

Heating the first layer of blood with his hand, it started to smoke.

Breathing it in, the spell started producing a peppery smell and humid heat preceding intense magic.

They were close to being ready to perform the binding. It was hard to say how Imani knew because her head felt dazed, but a sliver of fear rushed down her spine, and she blinked.

Magic exploded into the room.

Not nascent or atrophic, this magic was something else entirely. Primordial and otherworldly, it caused her heart to pound in her ears. An unbridled ferocity from Kiran's signature called to every piece of her existence, throwing her over the edge of awareness.

Against her will, Imani's magic came to the surface. The rush was so powerful it knocked the wind out of her. She fell to her knees, too weak to stand anymore.

Kiran dropped down next to her and handed over the cup of their blood. To drink.

Lifting the cup to his mouth, he motioned for her to do the same.

She quickly tipped all the liquid into her mouth, and it fell to the back of her throat. She swallowed the thick, warm substance. It burned like fire all the way down into her belly.

Steeply and rapidly, a force shot her magic signature into the ceiling. The spell filled the entire room with a stifling, carnal air and blackened her veins. As she fought them back, a tunnel overtook her vision. Her magic wanted out—all of it.

Her body slipped backward. The cup fell from her hand and shattered.

In the next instant, she found herself on her back.

Kiran straddled her and dug his nails into her arms. "Let it go, Imani. I want to see it."

Her eyes rolled back as she obeyed.

Without the binding, her magic threw itself out in an inky mess into the room, colliding with the rest of Kiran's and their blood. The room became a black void as if all light had been snatched instantly. She couldn't see her hands in front of her face. She couldn't see the floor beneath her.

She pressed her fingers into her forehead, but she couldn't focus—couldn't get a firm grasp on anything. Yet, somehow, she kept a tenuous hold on her oppressive magic, so it didn't destroy everything—it responded to her pull, but barely.

After another surge in her power, he seemed to relent and ran his hands up and down her bare arms. Pain and pleasure warred inside in equal measure now, but the touch helped her regain control. The feel of his warm hands tracing small circles on her skin sent shivers through her.

Dim light returned around them.

Eyes fluttering, she almost slipped into an exhausted sleep. "Stay awake just a bit longer, my darling." Kiran moved to hold her face with his hands.

With barely a thought, Imani tightened her hold on the magic, forcing the whirls of shadows into twisters of darkness that moved throughout the room at her demand.

His hands fell from her face. When she glanced at Kiran, he stared open-mouthed at them. Confusion and then awe shone in his eyes—and then his grinned. He watched her dangerous shadows explode into darkness earlier, pulling her back from a terrifying Fabric Event; she assumed he'd be threatened and furious with her for being so careless. And yet he appeared to love it, or at the very least appreciate it. Why did he appear so excited and amused? Did he know what her magic was?