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Authors: Tracey Martin
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in the room.
I had no idea what was in the curse, but it blasted open the front wall, leaving a fabulous seven-pointed curse scar behind on the bits that remained. The two furies were thrown back and piled in a heap by the teller counter.
Raj’s eyes opened wide as he took in the carnage, and I seized my opening. Grabbing my knife, I charged. But Raj must have been able to read me via the bond better than I could read him. He was still a pred, after all. My negative emotions couldn’t be hidden from him, and anger was the force driving me.
He snatched my upraised arm with a painfully strong grip and wrestled me toward the floor. With my arm twisted behind my back, I had no choice but to release the knife. It clattered to the hardwood beams, taking my hopes with it.
At least two hundred pounds of solid, fury muscle pressed down on me as I screamed in frustration. Every attempt I made to break Raj’s hold was easily countered. He was far bigger and stronger, and while those things could normally be overcome by training, he was in my damn head, anticipating my moves.
He pressed my arms into my torso, wrapping one of his own arms around me. With the other, he picked up Misery. Then he hauled me to my feet. “I did tell you I’d enjoy this far more if you struggled, didn’t I? And you struggle so well. It makes it so much more fun than a normal human would.” His face pressed against the side of my head, and he inhaled audibly.
I started to swear at him then I remembered that amused him more. He likes the struggle. Don’t struggle, you idiot. It only makes him stronger, and it turns him on. I shuddered mentally at the memory.
It only took Raj one arm to drag me toward the blown-open section of wall. “Thanks for this, soul swapper. It’s a lot easier than climbing out the rock pile in the back.”
Fuck you, I thought and sucked in a long draw on the bond. Power radiated throughout me. Raj didn’t respond, but I didn’t get the sense it was because he hadn’t noticed. He was lifting me over the bodies of his fallen minions, and his grip around me slackened.
To get us both out of here, he’d have to carry me over the loose debris and through the wall. It would require concentration, and it was not a time he could engage in a literal power struggle with me.
So I tugged on the bond again as Raj put the first foot on the rubble pile. The chunks of plaster were strewn precariously, and the pile shifted beneath us. Raj tensed, collecting his balance, and he had to adjust his grip. I gained a little more wiggle room.
Up another step, and another. Raj was clearly aware of the battle of the bond, but he wasn’t taking it seriously. I was sure it was partially because he had to pay attention to his footing, but mostly because he didn’t take me seriously as a threat. That had been all too evident since our meeting in France.
It was his mistake. I didn’t need to be as powerful as he was to be a threat. From the corner of my eye, I could see Misery’s hilt. Raj had taken my sheath when he’d pinned me to the floor, and he held the whole contraption in a loose grip in his left hand.
Don’t think about Olef, I told myself as dust dribbled onto my head. Don’t think about the prison being open. Don’t worry about the Vessels. Just focus on Lucen and Steph and Devon. Concentrate on the things that make you happy. The reasons you’re fighting, those that aren’t about revenge.
It was hard, so hard, while touching Raj to ignore the fear and rage he induced. His shirt was mildly sweaty, and I swore I could smell the effect of his pheromones when I breathed. But rather than picture the bond in my mind when I pulled on it, I pictured Lucen, and I didn’t pull with a heart full of vengeance but of love.
Raj couldn’t anticipate those emotions because they didn’t register with him. When I snatched at the bond, he wasn’t ready. The pure, uncontested hit of power burst through me like a shock wave. I gasped with
I had no idea what was in the curse, but it blasted open the front wall, leaving a fabulous seven-pointed curse scar behind on the bits that remained. The two furies were thrown back and piled in a heap by the teller counter.
Raj’s eyes opened wide as he took in the carnage, and I seized my opening. Grabbing my knife, I charged. But Raj must have been able to read me via the bond better than I could read him. He was still a pred, after all. My negative emotions couldn’t be hidden from him, and anger was the force driving me.
He snatched my upraised arm with a painfully strong grip and wrestled me toward the floor. With my arm twisted behind my back, I had no choice but to release the knife. It clattered to the hardwood beams, taking my hopes with it.
At least two hundred pounds of solid, fury muscle pressed down on me as I screamed in frustration. Every attempt I made to break Raj’s hold was easily countered. He was far bigger and stronger, and while those things could normally be overcome by training, he was in my damn head, anticipating my moves.
He pressed my arms into my torso, wrapping one of his own arms around me. With the other, he picked up Misery. Then he hauled me to my feet. “I did tell you I’d enjoy this far more if you struggled, didn’t I? And you struggle so well. It makes it so much more fun than a normal human would.” His face pressed against the side of my head, and he inhaled audibly.
I started to swear at him then I remembered that amused him more. He likes the struggle. Don’t struggle, you idiot. It only makes him stronger, and it turns him on. I shuddered mentally at the memory.
It only took Raj one arm to drag me toward the blown-open section of wall. “Thanks for this, soul swapper. It’s a lot easier than climbing out the rock pile in the back.”
Fuck you, I thought and sucked in a long draw on the bond. Power radiated throughout me. Raj didn’t respond, but I didn’t get the sense it was because he hadn’t noticed. He was lifting me over the bodies of his fallen minions, and his grip around me slackened.
To get us both out of here, he’d have to carry me over the loose debris and through the wall. It would require concentration, and it was not a time he could engage in a literal power struggle with me.
So I tugged on the bond again as Raj put the first foot on the rubble pile. The chunks of plaster were strewn precariously, and the pile shifted beneath us. Raj tensed, collecting his balance, and he had to adjust his grip. I gained a little more wiggle room.
Up another step, and another. Raj was clearly aware of the battle of the bond, but he wasn’t taking it seriously. I was sure it was partially because he had to pay attention to his footing, but mostly because he didn’t take me seriously as a threat. That had been all too evident since our meeting in France.
It was his mistake. I didn’t need to be as powerful as he was to be a threat. From the corner of my eye, I could see Misery’s hilt. Raj had taken my sheath when he’d pinned me to the floor, and he held the whole contraption in a loose grip in his left hand.
Don’t think about Olef, I told myself as dust dribbled onto my head. Don’t think about the prison being open. Don’t worry about the Vessels. Just focus on Lucen and Steph and Devon. Concentrate on the things that make you happy. The reasons you’re fighting, those that aren’t about revenge.
It was hard, so hard, while touching Raj to ignore the fear and rage he induced. His shirt was mildly sweaty, and I swore I could smell the effect of his pheromones when I breathed. But rather than picture the bond in my mind when I pulled on it, I pictured Lucen, and I didn’t pull with a heart full of vengeance but of love.
Raj couldn’t anticipate those emotions because they didn’t register with him. When I snatched at the bond, he wasn’t ready. The pure, uncontested hit of power burst through me like a shock wave. I gasped with
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