Read Online My Darkest Passion by Carolyn Jewel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carolyn Jewel
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anything to her she didn’t want, he was wrong. She’d rather die.
Harsh averted his eyes. “We thought you might need some company.”
She clutched her legs to her torso, but she accomplished that by muscle memory. As for what he was doing here, well, she could accept he was serious without giving up the possibility that he wasn’t. She tried to smile, but she suspected the muscles of her face did not cooperate. Somewhere along the way she’d lost most of the connection between her mind and her body.
“Thanks. I guess.”
He shifted his gaze to her, but kept his eyes on her face. “We’re a social species that does not thrive in isolation. As with humans, it can eventually do us grave harm.”
“Okay.” He was a lot bigger than she was. Physically stronger. The center of her chest vibrated again, and—coincidence? Harsh took a step back.
“Our uneasiness about being alone is, at least in part, related to our need to be around others like us. We all feel it to one degree or another.”
She nodded like he was making sense. If he made a move on her, how the hell was she going to protect herself?
“We take comfort from touch. It doesn’t mean what it means between humans or between the magekind. Sometimes, one or another of us prefers not to be touched. No one takes offense.” He held out a hand. “Eventually, though, we all need contact.”
She stared at his palm.
He let his hand fall to his side. “Can you stand?”
She pushed off the floor with her injured arm. In the back of her head, she knew she was bleeding again, but all she felt was the damp slide of blood toward her wrist. When she was on her feet, she wobbled, and she punched a hand toward the wall to steady herself. Her thoughts slid toward his, reached out without her knowing how or why. Or even if the experience was real. In her head, he was a burst of color in a landscape of gray. She flashed on the fact that, in terms of power, she outranked him, and hated not knowing what that meant or if it was even real.
A smile curved his mouth. “Oh, it’s real enough,” he said, just as if he’d read her mind. Maybe he had. Demons did that. They could get into your head and take over. They could make you do things, see things, feel things you hated.
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
Her sense of him diminished, but he went on talking like nothing had happened. “Kynan Aijan is what Infante would call one of the ancient demons. Like Bejar, one of the Entelechy. It’s accurate enough to say that Kynan outranks you.”
She turned her head and glared at him. “No he doesn’t.”
He continued in the same calm tone. “It is the case, however, that the nature of my work for Nikodemus means that Kynan’s rank has no bearing on my authority over him. Just as what you are or how you got this way has no bearing on my authority over you while you are in our territory.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” God, she was dizzy.
“You should.” Both syllables were razor sharp. “Nikodemus is a warlord who accepts the responsibilities of his rank. I have sworn an oath of loyalty to him, and that’s not to be taken lightly.”
“Bully for you.” She tried to walk away but lurched like a drunken sailor and banged into the wall.
“You are alive because Nikodemus does not punish unfairly.”
She pressed her back to the wall. “Tell him I said thanks for everything.”
“Addison,” he said softly. “You will have an easier time if you stop processing the world according to what you used to be.”
“I’ll just do that.” Her mind folded around a new way of balancing and with that success came a glimmer of connection to her body. She shut down because she didn’t want to feel anything. But it was too late. The truth burned through her; she was badly injured, and even with her mind shut down hard, the memory of the pain made her stomach curdle. She wanted nothing to do with it.
“Pain exists to tell us
Harsh averted his eyes. “We thought you might need some company.”
She clutched her legs to her torso, but she accomplished that by muscle memory. As for what he was doing here, well, she could accept he was serious without giving up the possibility that he wasn’t. She tried to smile, but she suspected the muscles of her face did not cooperate. Somewhere along the way she’d lost most of the connection between her mind and her body.
“Thanks. I guess.”
He shifted his gaze to her, but kept his eyes on her face. “We’re a social species that does not thrive in isolation. As with humans, it can eventually do us grave harm.”
“Okay.” He was a lot bigger than she was. Physically stronger. The center of her chest vibrated again, and—coincidence? Harsh took a step back.
“Our uneasiness about being alone is, at least in part, related to our need to be around others like us. We all feel it to one degree or another.”
She nodded like he was making sense. If he made a move on her, how the hell was she going to protect herself?
“We take comfort from touch. It doesn’t mean what it means between humans or between the magekind. Sometimes, one or another of us prefers not to be touched. No one takes offense.” He held out a hand. “Eventually, though, we all need contact.”
She stared at his palm.
He let his hand fall to his side. “Can you stand?”
She pushed off the floor with her injured arm. In the back of her head, she knew she was bleeding again, but all she felt was the damp slide of blood toward her wrist. When she was on her feet, she wobbled, and she punched a hand toward the wall to steady herself. Her thoughts slid toward his, reached out without her knowing how or why. Or even if the experience was real. In her head, he was a burst of color in a landscape of gray. She flashed on the fact that, in terms of power, she outranked him, and hated not knowing what that meant or if it was even real.
A smile curved his mouth. “Oh, it’s real enough,” he said, just as if he’d read her mind. Maybe he had. Demons did that. They could get into your head and take over. They could make you do things, see things, feel things you hated.
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
Her sense of him diminished, but he went on talking like nothing had happened. “Kynan Aijan is what Infante would call one of the ancient demons. Like Bejar, one of the Entelechy. It’s accurate enough to say that Kynan outranks you.”
She turned her head and glared at him. “No he doesn’t.”
He continued in the same calm tone. “It is the case, however, that the nature of my work for Nikodemus means that Kynan’s rank has no bearing on my authority over him. Just as what you are or how you got this way has no bearing on my authority over you while you are in our territory.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” God, she was dizzy.
“You should.” Both syllables were razor sharp. “Nikodemus is a warlord who accepts the responsibilities of his rank. I have sworn an oath of loyalty to him, and that’s not to be taken lightly.”
“Bully for you.” She tried to walk away but lurched like a drunken sailor and banged into the wall.
“You are alive because Nikodemus does not punish unfairly.”
She pressed her back to the wall. “Tell him I said thanks for everything.”
“Addison,” he said softly. “You will have an easier time if you stop processing the world according to what you used to be.”
“I’ll just do that.” Her mind folded around a new way of balancing and with that success came a glimmer of connection to her body. She shut down because she didn’t want to feel anything. But it was too late. The truth burned through her; she was badly injured, and even with her mind shut down hard, the memory of the pain made her stomach curdle. She wanted nothing to do with it.
“Pain exists to tell us
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