I reach into the small of Declan’s back, pull out the athame he always carries. Slowly unsheathe it. He watches me with steady eyes and I know—I know—he wants to be the one to kill her. To plunge the dagger through her chest and end her for everything she’s done. Everything she’s put us through.
The thought calls to me, his darkness seducing mine out of hiding until it fills me up, until it seeps into my every pore and envelops all that I am. All that I stand for.
There’s a part of me, a small part, that is screaming for me to stop. To wait. To think. I’m not interested in listening, though. Instead, I lean forward and prepare to commit murder.
“Xandra.” Declan calls my name moments before I plunge the dagger straight into my aunt’s chest. I turn my head toward him and for the first time since he showed up to rescue me, our eyes collide. His are wide, dark, churning with power and the need for vengeance. In them, I see all of my own feelings reflected back at me. My need to hurt her, to make her suffer. And the small, insidious thrill that comes with all this power—the understanding that in this moment I have total control over whether she lives or dies.
I take a deep breath, pull the knife back and prepare to end this—to end her—but Declan’s hand flashes out. Stops mine. Electricity arcs between us at the first touch and I gasp in surprise. He steps closer, and as my head tilts up to maintain our eye contact, I see something else in his eyes: love, devotion and an acceptance of me however I am, whoever I am—the Xandra he fell in love with or this new one who’s trapped in the darkness and can’t seem to find her way out.
Somehow, it’s exactly the grounding I need. I step back, let the athame slip from between my fingers. Declan plucks it out of midair, shoves it back into its scabbard. He’s still watching me, solemn, steady, waiting. I know what he wants, what he needs, and I reach for him.
Only then does he smile, really smile. And as he gathers me in his arms, I understand—for the first time—the battle he goes through. It’s a battle between darkness and light, between wrong and right. It’s a battle I’ve never had to fight before, but now that I’ve faced it myself, it gives me faith in his strength, his power, his goodness—an understanding that I might never have had otherwise.
“You okay?” he murmurs, stroking a gentle hand down my cheek.
I shake my head. I’m a long way from okay and I think we both know that. But for now, in Declan’s arms, I feel like I’m going to make it.
“Shelby?” he whispers in between pressing tender kisses to my cheek, my forehead, my eyes.
“She’s here somewhere,” I tell him. “She’s alive, but I don’t know much more than that.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t spare you this. It’s why I tried to find her on my own, so that you wouldn’t have to go through all of this.”
I can see the torment in his eyes, and it slays me. It really does. I brush a hand down his cheek, watch his eyes darken. “I think I had to do it. I had to see.”
He knows I’m right—I can see it in his face. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy for him to accept. I understand, though. I hate the idea of his being in danger as well.
“Let’s go find Shelby,” he says after a moment.
“What about my aunt?” I stare down at Tsura, a new wave of hatred and rage welling up inside me at the sight of her.
Declan rubs soothing circles on my back even as he murmurs a spell that binds her. “She won’t be going anywhere until the police get here.”
“We should call them.”
“I already did.”
For a moment, I don’t believe him. The Declan I thought I knew would never step back like that, never hand over to the police so easily the woman who had tormented him and me. But the man standing before me isn’t the man he’s always been. Just like I’m no longer the woman I’ve always been.
And that’s when I know. Really know that things are going to be okay. This soulbound thing isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to pull us into the shadows more times than it doesn’t. It’s going to show me things—about my lover, myself, and the world I live in—that I never wanted to see. Never wanted to know.
But in the end, it’s going to be as much salvation as punishment. As much joy as sorrow. As much light as dark. And that—that is all I can ask for.
Well, that and Declan. Everything else can take care of itself.
About the Author
Tessa Adams lives in Texas and teaches writing at her local community college. She is married and the mother of three sons.
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