“That’s why we’ve been trying to talk to you,” Scorpius sneered meanly as he continued to lick blood off his fingers. “We realized yesterday that it wasn’t the tattoo tying us together. It was bond sickness.”
“What?” I asked loudly.
Malum’s voice was cold, a sharp contrast to the flames pouring off his bronze skin. “When an Ignis and Protectors fail their mate, the bond becomes corrupted to ensure this wrong never happens again.” He shook his head. “We thought we’d experienced it with Orion because we couldn’t eat or sleep when he was hurt. But we were wrong. It’s much more than that.”
Scorpius smirked and said, “When you dropped your enchantment, our souls recognized the presence of our Revered and our mating song changed. It became soft and peaceful.”
“But then you got the tattoo,” Malum growled. “And you underwent intense agony while we watched and did nothing to protect you.”
“The incomplete soul bond tying us together became corrupted,” Orion whispered.
Flames tumbled off Malum’s tongue as he said, “Bond sickness.”
Scorpius laughed, and it wasn’t a nice sound.
“You can’t run from us, sweetheart,” Orion whispered. “We need to take care of you. Let us help heal you. Our souls are forcing us to stay together so we can fix what we’ve broken.”
My soul’s taste in men was officially a form of self-harm.
Malum nodded. “Let us fix our wrongs.” A muscle in his temple jumped as he gritted his teeth, and he said, “Please.” His cheeks blushed crimson. “We care. I care about you.”
“Put me down,” I told John with a shaky gasp.
John looked at me skeptically with worry in his dark eyes. “You’re still bleeding a lot. Are you sure you can stand?”
I nodded and tried to appear strong. “Do it now.”
John gently put me on my feet.
The world spun around me, and I pressed my fist over my mouth. Cold sweat poured from my face.
I felt like I was going to pass out.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I faced the kings.
They stared at me like they were starved men before a feast.
I recalled Lyla’s prophecy:
You will not be who you need to be until you embrace the dragon.
Mid argument I’d realized something.
I didn’t care.
I turned and pumped my arms and legs hard as I sprinted down the hall away from them as fast as I could.
My side burned with every step, and I left a trail of crimson behind me.
I would not be embracing the dragon.
The pain in my hip made my head spin, and the hallway warped around me, making me stumble.
“Fuck!” Malum bellowed. “Don’t run from us, Arabella! You’ll hurt yourself! You’re hurting yourself right now! Stop it!”
Footsteps pounded behind me as the kings gave chase.
Nausea churned in my stomach.
“Don’t run, sweetheart,” Orion sang loudly, and goose bumps exploded down my spine.
Malum shouted, “We’ll protect you. You’re our Revered. We want to care for you.”
“We’re sick for you,” Scorpius called gleefully.
I moved faster than I ever had in my life, and my feet didn’t touch the ground, but it wasn’t enough.
“Let us make it up to you!” Malum growled, and a flaming hand reached out. It wrapped around my clammy throat.
And ripped me back into hell.
War wasn’t coming.
It was here.
The blood was in the water.
Chapter 52
Jinx
GUARDIAN
Rebirth—Day 58, hour 3
One week earlier
The clock struck 3:00 a.m.
It was the morning of the final showcase.
Today I’d be competing.
I lay rigid on top of the bed.
Warren the ferret nuzzled his face against my cheek to try to comfort me. He was wrapped around my neck like a scarf, the position he always took when he was trying to offer support.
I didn’t pet him.
“Arabella Alis Egan must earn her wings today,” the Angel Consciousness said loudly in my head. “The council has been impressed with her performance, but she needs to sacrifice more. They are still worried that she is too much like her mother.”
I rolled my eyes and thought back, I know.
People annoyed me, but the voice in my head—that had been bothering me since I’d agreed to be Aran’s guardian—made me downright homicidal.
The bed bounced underneath me from the force of my tremors.
In thirteen years of life, I’d never slept.
I’d never known a single night of peace.
How could I?
Invisible metal cuffs were cold and heavy on my wrists. Layered with dark enchantments that emitted electric shocks, the hardware kept me in perpetual pain. Every. Single. Night.
The only consolation was they failed to fully serve their purpose.
The cuffs were supposed to keep me docile.
I wasn’t.
I’d describe myself as truculent, ornery, and bumptious.
Never docile.
Unfortunately, my jailer recognized this.
When Dick had looked at me across the arena a few weeks ago, he must have seen something in my carefully crafted expression that he didn’t like.
The pain at night was getting worse.
He’d turned up the voltage.
Now I convulsed on the bed. Twitched. Trembled in silence.
If my jaw weren’t aching from electric pulses, I would have grinned.
It was humorous that Dick went to such extreme physical measures to contain me when physically I was as weak as a human. Maybe weaker.
Sadly, his actions weren’t surprising. Everything about the realms of the High Court was ghastly and primitive.
The people in these realms worshipped brawn and feats of toughness. Didn’t they know anyone could learn to be strong?
It was intellect that couldn’t be taught.
Wit was the true differentiator.
At least, it was back at home.
My fingers twitched, water streaked down the sides of my face, and my tears provided a few lucky micrometers of skin with insulation from electric shock.
I sank deeper into my mind and focused on my plans, the revenge that I would successfully execute in the future. Violently.
Ten years ago, my thoughts never would have turned so primitive.
These realms were getting to me.
Dick had treated me like a dog for so long that a part of me had learned to think like one. Like the rabble that surrounded me.
My adoptive brother, Jax, and his mates snored on the three beds they’d pushed together.
Every muscle cramped in my body as the volts of electricity caused a migraine to throb through my skull.
As always, I suffered in silence.
My life was defined by a triumvirate of imprisonment: cuffs, electric shock, and secrets.
So many secrets.
The tangle of lies was so knotted that there was no “truth” anymore. There was just blackmail and distortion.
One word summarized my entire existence: exploitation.
I was a rare species from a faraway galaxy that didn’t go through puberty until twenty-five years old.
I was twenty-four years old.
Dick forced me to masquerade as a child.
It shouldn’t have been that large of a lie; after all, I was still technically prepubescent, and it was only a ten-year difference.
But it made all the difference.