Page 60 of Vow of the Undead
He stood, a shadowy silence over the stains, some fresh the color of cherry while other spots were the dark burgundy of dried blood. A twitch bolted across his face. He bared his teeth, his neck reddening.
He was fighting my compulsion and I felt every strain with pressure building in my head and throat and lungs, even pressing down on my tongue. I resisted, returning to what I was doing when I first felt this power.
Whispering calm phrases, I felt the strength within me riseagain. “I see him fighting the cage of magic on his tongue. I hear the echo of wind through a tunnel. I smell blood…”
His voice, still dulled with my compulsion, broke through. “I don’t always kill everyone I taste, but everyone I kill I’ve tasted.”
Sick.
More of this power tumbled out of my mouth with a demand for what I needed. “I compel you as I can with all of your kind. Give me what I want.”Give me the lost history.
His icy blue eyes flashed to gold like an animal in the night before red replaced the gold. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
It was the truth. Somehow, an instinct carved in the marrow of my bones told me this was exactly what he’d been compelled to tell me, nothing more.
His broad chest heaved with the effort of fighting against my power. The compulsion slipped from my fingers, as if the power was water and I could not grasp it again until I had the energy to dive into it. I had to immerse myself in the sensations, in focus, something my tired brain could no longer keep hold of.
I licked my lips, claiming control of myself after the magic of the trance stripped me of my breath. “I’m not like you.”
Anger built at the edges of his jaw. “What the fuck was that?”
“That was what it feels like to be controlled,” I snapped. “Pushed around, like you and your damn executioners do to people every day.”
“They’re not—” He pushed out a hot breath and raked his fingers through his hair. His thick arm flexed from the effort until he dropped it at his side and pinned me with his gaze. “You know it’s funny, you want the truth, but you sure like to lie,Silver.Want to share your real name?”
My blood chilled. It wasn’t real. He couldn’t have just said that.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about it.
I was just Silver, a simple witch from Skaldir.
He marched toward me. “I suspected the Gods had taken hold of you, but then whenever you were…wanting, I didn’t hear a hint of them, so I thought you hadn’t invited them in.”
“I didn’t?—”
He huffed. “But I was wrong—damnit!” Slamming his fist against the wall behind my head, he didn’t even wince as his knuckle smacked into stone. “I really hoped it wasn’t true.”
Chaos.I didn’t know if this word came from Loki’s voice or my own mind, but the king’s flared temper was proof of promised chaos.
King Drakkar glared down at me until he hovered, bringing his face inches from mine. His wild eyes searched mine. “The only way to take back your mind is to sever your ties with the Gods. Bind yourself to the only thing out of Odin’s reach. We have to move the wedding up, tonight, before the sun would normally rise.”
I backed away, shuffling over the dress’s crumpled fabric. “I won’t marry a murderer.”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I’ll either marry you, or I’ll show you exactly how I kill.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised but claws clamped around my lungs and the blood-stenched air became scarce.“You’ll kill me?”
“Not if you cast off the Gods.”
Which meant casting off their gifts, the visions, this new…compulsion, everything that was meant to help my mother, Ragna, and the other exiled women. “Then you’ll free the witches?”
“When did I say that?”
“The lost history says we aren’t a threat and tradition says you must abide by the truth of history.”
