The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 48

Whipping back around, she found Kiran leaning against the wall with a ghost of a smile on his face—and something like masculine pride emanated from him. A corner of the same identical brand showed on his hand, the rest covered by his sleeve.

Imani just stared at him, unblinking, unmoving.

It was difficult to predict how and where a brand would show up, and unless the spells were permanent, they'd disappear once weakened, the caster died, or the terms were fulfilled.

Powerful bindings often manifested in apparent locations to identify a bound witch quickly and deter frivolous, unnecessary magic. But not even her binding brand with Tanyl, appearing on her stomach and lower back in a swirled design, was this blatant.

Once a person ran out of skin, though, it meant their bodies reached the limit of magic it would allow.

Almost no one ran out of space anymore, but she remembered Kiran's shirtless body was covered—he probably only had a few places any new bindings this large could appear.

A marking like this would need to be glamoured if she wanted to avoid questions, magic not all had the luxury of doing. She was lucky.

Her chest tightened as a wave of violent hate and anger at him crashed into her. "Kiran, where is my magic? Why can't I cast?"

She started marching over to him, intent on violence. But the binding's tightness in her stomach tugged on her, twisting more as she moved closer.

Right in front of him, she doubled over, cursing root bindings. It had gotten stronger while she'd slept.

Laughter echoed ominously in the room while she winced at the pain and hunger—that insatiable hunger. He kept laughing at her, and she covered her trembling lips with her hands, slamming her eyes shut, waiting for it to pass. She'd never felt a binding like this before, and a mess of emotions churned inside her—conflict, screaming with hate, rage, want, need.

God, she was starving.

She needed to feed to get some strength back.

A long, thick silence fell between them as she backed away, breathing hard. Then, finally, the pain lessened a bit.

"Tell me what you did to me," she demanded again through gritted teeth, rubbing her chest furiously. "Is this the bond between us or—"

"What are you fucking talking about? The binding where you're the servant of the opposing king or the one that doesn't exist?" He looked down his nose at her. Void of any spark or concern—only cold, sharp depravity played in his eyes now. It set her teeth on edge.

"I'm relieved to see you alive—it's more than I can say for others who've done blood burnings with me," he sighed. "And it would have been incredibly inconvenient to find a replacement."

Humiliation flooded through her, pinking her cheeks. It was all obvious now that she was one of the many people he had already controlled. How many times had he manipulated and trapped others in the same way?

Based on the brands he had, the number was too high for her to comprehend.

Replaying everything, she could see it now, all just games and lies, him moving her where he wanted, controlling her, making her weak—

A scream sat at the back of her throat, but she gave him a nasty smile instead. "You'll regret this someday," she said, barely loud enough to be heard. Her voice came out harsh and cold. Still, she wished it sounded colder.

"I highly doubt it," he chuckled. "I regret many things, but this will never be one."

"You made an enemy of me today. I will return the favor at some point," Imani shot back.