Page 86 of A Dose of Agony
He nods. “You know, I keep thinking about our conversation about Bea the other day. I’ve been waiting to see if you were ever going to bring it up again or tell me what’s wrong, but I have to go back to Oriziah tomorrow, and—”
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “I mean, I’m tense about everything, you know?”
His brow crinkles, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, sure.”
He glances down at the book I’m holding. I’d helped Janet create the magically enhanced paint we talked about yesterday, and since then, I’ve been studying ways to increase my nullifier strength.
“Why do you need a delayed death potion?” he asks.
My heart sinks. It shouldn’t. There’s nothing specific about a delayed death potion—as opposed to an instant death potion—that would expose my secrets, but my heart still clenches.
And Jarron seems to notice, but he doesn’t comment again. The tension settles slightly, but that sharp gaze he’s had for the last few days is heavier than before. He’s leaving soon, and these mysteries are weighing on him. I need to get this done soon, or else I’m going to lose my chance.
“Can we head to the speakeasy?” I ask casually after a few minutes of silence. Jarron nods, his jaw still tense.
My heart thuds wildly.
Can he tell? Can he feel it?
The hall feels dark and narrow as we walk side by side, the silence as heavy and palpable as his shadow magic was a few months ago.
Warn Bea, then I can make this life-changing choice. Warn Bea, and then I can fix the wedge I’ve created between me and Jarron. Warn her, then I can stop him from hating me.
“And why are you researching cyclops and griffins?”
I stumble on my next step. “No specific reason, I just—”
He grabs my arm and pushes me up against the wall of the hallway. “What are you keeping from me?”
My eyes widen.
“I can feel it,” he says.
Not now, Jarron, I internally beg.Let me fix this first. Don’t figure it out now and hate me for it.
He stares down at my trembling hands, his posture intimidating. “Candice,” he commands. “Tell me right now.”
“No.” I wince. “I can’t.”
He grabs my wrist, staring down at the two small, magical tattoos that remain inconspicuous on my body. Magic rushes through my veins, and I feel something release.
“What was that?” I gasp, pulling from his grip.
“I broke the magical connection you had to the games.”
I frown. The partial tattoo from when I started to sign the contract. Nothing had ever really happened with that link. And it doesn’t mean much to me now. “Why?”
“Because you’re hiding things from me, and that was a risk. I should have done it weeks ago but I’d forgotten. No one is allowed to have a hold on you.” He clenches his hands into fists.
“No one but you?” I bite out. Why do I sound angry at that idea? I’m not. I’m just backed into a corner and I’m afraid.
The devastation on his face sends a shockwave of pain through my body. “Not even me, apparently,” he mutters. “Why? Why won’t you accept me?” He shakes his head, already knowing I won’t give him an answer.
“Because I’m a fucking coward, that’s why.”
He clenches his jaw. “What are you afraid of?”
“The truth,” I whisper. But I’m not afraid of his truth anymore. I’m afraid of mine. I’m afraid that if I tell him what’s going on, I’ll lose what little power I have. I’m afraid he’ll convince me to let it go.
