Page 18 of A Bond in Flames

His gaze shot up from his food. “No,” he said so loud, I jumped.

I frowned at him. “I’m a blood witch, you must know that?” I held up my hand and showed him my scarred palm. “How do you think I got this? I mean, when I first came here, I was covered in my own blood, so this can’t be a surprise to you.”

“You are not to cut yourself, not anymore,” he said, his eyes darkening, burning into me.

I stared at him, not backing down despite the tremble in my belly and the way the hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Cutting and magic go hand in hand in my coven. It gives us strength and increases our power. It’s what we do, and it’s who we are,” I fired back at him.

His fingers curled into a tight fist. “You test me, consort. You push me at every turn, but I will not concede to you on this. You will not win.”

What I wanted to do was scream in his face, just release all the rage and fear I was feeling in that moment, but somehow, I knew that would be the absolute wrong thing to do. Instead, I forced it down, and then I reached out and covered his clenched fist with my hand. It was rough, his skin scarred and hot. Power sparked from him to me, and it was hard to keep holding on, to keep my breathing even, but I didn’t let go and made myself look deep into his eyes so he’d see the truth of my words as I said them. “If you take this from me, you may as well kill me now. This is not a battle for you to win or lose. Without my magic, I am nothing. I don’t exist. I won’t be Zinnia Thornheart anymore. Without my magic, I won’t be me, and that’s not something I ever want to face.” I shook my head. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve accepted that this is my life now—what’s left of it, anyway—but you have already ripped me from the people I love most in this world, and you need to know that I won’t let you take this from me. Whatever the cost, I won’t let you take this from me as well.”

The hand under mine was pulled away, and then it shot out, curling around the side of my throat, not tight, similar to the way he’d held it outside the castle before we left. Then his hand slid higher, his long, thick fingers sinking into my hair, shocking me. “Always so fucking stubborn,” he rasped.

I stayed completely still, breathless, as his thumb touched my chin. His gaze dipped; he was no longer looking into my eyes but watching what he was doing as he slowly slid his thumb higher, his rough skin scraping mine, until the very tip brushed the bottom of my lower lip. His gaze was focused on that connection and nothing else.

A shaky breath punched out of me at the look on his face while he touched me.

He blinked, as if knocked from wherever he’d just gone, and looked up at me. “You may practice your magic then. Stubborn little witch.” Then he finally released me.

I sank back in my seat as if I’d been unplugged from an electrical socket, my body still buzzing and my heart pounding.

Death strode across the room. The trapdoor reappeared, and he kicked the ladder back down and jumped to the ground after it.

I took another shaky breath and tried to get my heart back under control.

* * *

She turned in strong arms, sliding her hands over wide shoulders.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Aster?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Firelight danced over his bare skin, making the tattoos on his flesh come alive. She trailed her hands up his stomach and over his chest. They were slender, beautiful hands. He rolled her to her back, his long, thick fingers curling around her throat. “My precious Stella.”

She wrapped her legs around him, and he slammed inside her—

My eyes flew open, my body hot and coated in a fine layer of sweat. The room was warm, too warm, and I blinked up at the ceiling. A vision, not a dream.

Aster.

She’d been with Death in this tree house, and she may or may not be the female I’d dreamed about the previous night. Why were they showing me these things? If I could use my medium power to its full potential here, I could call them to me and ask what they wanted.

Was it a warning of some kind? Had Death killed them? Was that what they were trying to tell me? Not to get close to him, not to let him in, or I’d end up the same?

It was still night; I could tell by the sounds the insects made outside. Pushing myself up, I shoved back the covers, then bit my lip. Death had come back sometime while I’d been asleep. He’d arranged himself on the larger cushions. His upper body was kind of propped up; one hand was behind his head, and the other, resting on his abs. With his arm back like that, I could see the tattoo that ran all the way down the back of it more clearly. He had two of them, another identical one on the other arm. Inverted torches. The death of the flesh, and the eternal life of the soul—that’s what they meant. The one I could see was beautiful, flames licking down his forearm to his wrist.

It looked so real, like if you reached out and touched it, you’d feel cold steel or the heat of the flames.

My gaze slid over the rest of him. He looked the same as he did in my vision: his skin, golden in the firelight, the dancing flames moving over the dips and valleys of his muscled body, the way his tattoos almost looked alive in the dim light.

He was devastatingly beautiful.

Something in my lower belly tightened, and I bit my lip again. I didn’t want to be attracted to him, especially now, when I thought about what those visions could mean, but I guessed it was inevitable, right? He was essentially my mate; an attraction; whether you wanted there to be one or not, was part and parcel with that whole thing. A higher power had brought us together; fate had chosen me for him, and him for me. The only difference here was, Death could have more than one consort in his lifetime.

What happened if I didn’t die an untimely death? Would the consorts keep coming? Would I end up the head sister wife of Death’s polygamist family? His hand slid lower, and he groaned in his sleep. I slammed my legs together when unwanted lust, caused by that sound, zipped right through my belly and landed between my legs.Shit.

My gaze trailed back up his body, over his square jaw and that strong nose, to his dark lashes resting on his cheeks. The male had perfect bone structure, but then he was a god, so what did I expect—

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