Page 99 of Bewitched By the Djinn
“I don’t know how.” I somehow manage to grit the words out.
Yes, you do. Stop talking to yourself and do it.
The voice is right. I do know. It’s like falling, but the kind where you let go of the edge because you want to. Because you know what’s waiting at the bottom isn’t a crash. It’s him.
I think about everything he is. Not just the danger and mystery. But the way he looks at me like I’m fire and starlight. The way he held me. The way he told me I was his mate like it was both a truth and a vow.
I choose you, I say in my mind.Bennet, I choose you.
The bond snaps into place like a door slamming shut and then flinging open.
Magic floods my limbs, hot and wild—but clean. No backlash. No pain. Like a river finally running the right course. Our magic is ours now, aligned. Whole.
And with it, his thoughts and emotions flow into mine.
It’s like touching sunlight for the first time. My body still trembles from the pain, but it’s fading fast, burned away by the heat of something older and deeper. The moment our magic clicks into place his presence brushes against every corner of my mind. Warm, steady, furious, and tender.
And I know he’s getting everything pouring out of me too—the ache, the confusion, the need, the part of me that wants to collapse into him and never let go.
We’re really here. Together.
The pain is gone.
I choke on a laugh-sob, half joy, half relief, tears stinging my eyes.Bennet,I’m here. Damn, I should have done this before. I am an idiot.
His presence sharpens with the sound of my name. And then—his voice comes through the bond.You’re my idiot.
I’m definitely grinning in a damp cell in a dungeon like an idiot.
Cass—he killed them. My parents.
My grin drops.What?
An image of Bennet floods my thoughts. He’s in a dark, cramped room, somewhere above me. Some kind of a storage space. His presence is like a warmth in my midsection. He’s leaning against a door, listening to an ifrit guard right outside of it.
Are you reading that creature’s thoughts?I ask.
His response is laced with uncertainty.I think so. My powers. They are more. I think it’s the bond.
I search inside, seeking my own magic. He’s right. What used to be a glimmer of flame I could draw on to track objects is now a roaring inferno that I’m not sure I can control. I tamp it back down and focus on Bennet. He’s drawing information from the weaker minds around him.
My uncle. It’s always been about power. About control. Everything he told me was a lie. He was jealous of my mother who would inherit more than him. He planned their death, the ifrit attack. He asked them to kill his own sister and brother-in-law and fiancée in exchange for power and land. All because he couldn’t stand being second in line.
The rush of it hits me in waves—his thoughts, his grief, his fury.
He’s not right in the head. He’s been planning this for years. He hates Helen because she’s part mortal. Thinks she is dirty. I can hear him speaking with her, somewhere below me. When the wedding plans began, he ensured she discovered the truth of her parentage and encouraged her to flee.
He pauses.I think my senses are more enhanced as well. Hugh and Helen aren’t even on the same floor as I am.
I sniff and glance around my dingy cell. Well. I’m glad I still have my lame human senses because this dungeon stinks like ass.
Bennet’s warm chuckle fills my mind. Then he’s quiet again, listening.
He says everything he has done is for the realm, but it’s mostly about hate and prejudice. He thinks humans are weak. That my parents were fools for choosing to mingle our line with mortals. The reason it is hard for us to conceive is because we need more diversity in our bloodline, but according to him, we should be using the more powerful, darker blood of ifrit.
Horror rolls through him and into me.
He plans on getting the fake Helen with child. He wants his bloodline merged with an ifrit to be all powerful. He’s going to use Helen’s magic to bond her likeness with the ifrit, forever, and destroy her.
