Page 60 of Darkbirch Academy

“Let me think about that for exactly zero seconds—yes. Yes, I do.” I gesture vaguely at our surroundings. “This entiresituation screams ‘trap.’ So forgive me if I’m not eager to bare my neck before securing what I need.”

“And if I have the same concerns?” Dayn counters. “How do I know you won’t take my blood and then refuse to give yours?”

“And watch as Heathborne becomes a factory for darkblood slaughtering armies? I’ve come this far, I’m unlikely to withdraw at the last minute.” I pause at his dissatisfied expression, tapping my foot on the ground. “Otherwise, we need to do this simultaneously. That’s the only fair way.”

He frowns. “And how do you propose that would work?”

“You drink from my neck while I...” I pause, considering further. My grandmother hadn’t specified any part of his body that I had to get blood from. She’d just urged me to drink his blood. If the body part were crucial, I’m certain she would have included it in her memo. “While I drink from your wrist. That way, we both get what we need at the same time, and neither can back out.”

Dayn stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nods. “Acceptable. Let’s get this over with.”

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat surging off him. “Your collar,” he says, gesturing to my top. “It’s in the way.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“You’ll need to remove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“The ritual requires direct access,” he says, as if explaining something to a particularly slow student. “Your clothing is hampering that access.”

I stare at him, wondering if this is some elaborate power play. “You want me to strip. For a ritual.”

“Not entirely,” he clarifies. “Just enough to provide the necessary... exposure.”

“Right,” I say, drawing out the word.Because nothing says ‘ancient magical ceremony’ like partial nudity.

I hold his gaze for a long moment, then shrug off my unzipped jacket. “Fine. But if this turns out to be some weird dragon fetish thing, I’m walking out.”

“Noted,” he says, his expression unreadable.

I pull my top over my head in one fluid motion, leaving me in just my practical black sports bra. The air of the chamber raises goosebumps across my exposed skin, despite his heat, and I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest. I refuse to show discomfort.

“Happy now?” I ask, dropping my top onto a nearby stone bench.

Instead of answering, Dayn begins unbuttoning his own shirt, his fingers moving with startling efficiency.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “You only need to roll up your sleeve for me to access your wrist.”

He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing his impossibly chiseled torso marked with intricate patterns that seem to shimmer beneath his skin.

“The ritual requires symmetry,” he says, as if that explains everything.

He steps closer, his bare chest radiating heat like a furnace. The runes beneath his skin pulse with amber light, matching the rhythm of the ones on my wrist. I force myself to hold my ground despite the instinct to back away.

“This isn’t a simple procedure,” he says, his voicedropping to a lower register. “What we’re about to do... it creates a connection. Temporary, but significant.”

“Define ‘connection,’” I say, suspicion creeping into my tone.

“Blood carries memory, intent, power.” His eyes track over my face, searching. “When you drink mine, you’ll see fragments of my past. When I drink yours, I’ll see yours.”

My stomach drops. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It’s not optional.” He reaches for my hand, turning my wrist gently to expose the runes. “These mark you as connected to me already. The blood exchange will deepen that connection, but only briefly.”

I jerk my hand away. “More information you conveniently withheld until the last minute.”

“Would you have agreed earlier if I’d told you?”

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