Page 34 of The Bound Mage
“Any fae here can do this to you,” Loren murmured. He stepped in close, his voice curling like smoke against her ear. “You don’t have the discipline to fight off a child. Anyone could make you kneel, strip—even slit your own throat.”
“Stop it.” Araya’s voice shook, the word breaking on a sob. Hot tears blurred her vision, sliding down her cheeks. But she didn’t dare move. Not with the dagger pressed against her throat.
Loren’s gaze shifted, something unreadable flickering across his expression. He lifted his hand, his thumb brushing across her cheek. Heat sparked at the contact, magic surging beneath her skin as the bond snapped tight in her chest. It didn’t care that he was forcing her to hold a knife to her own throat. That she was helpless, captive to his will. Itwantedhim—stretching forward with the desperation of a vine searching for light even as her mind screamedno.
Loren went impossibly still, his nostrils flaring as the air between them crackled with power. His eyes dropped, her pulse leaping treacherously as his gaze lingered on her lips. He leaned toward her, his mouth opening—and then it wasn’t Loren standing there at all.
It was Jaxon. Jaxon’s shadow falling over her. His hand crushing her wrist. His magic scraping across her skin like a thousand iron-tipped needles?—
Her hands shook, the dagger trembling dangerously at her throat. The room blurred, the edges of her vision darkening. She couldsmellhim, the cloying vanilla perfume of his soap clogging her lungs as she choked, struggling to pull in enough air.
The dagger slipped from her hand, clattering against the stone. But all she could hear was Jaxon’s voice whispering in her ear, reminding her that her place was on the floor at his feet?—
“Araya—” Loren started, a thread of panic in his voice as he reached for her.
“Stop!” Araya planted both hands against Loren’s chest, shoving hard. “Stop—don’t touch me?—”
Her voice broke on a sob, her blood rushing in her ears like roaring waves, drowning out Loren’s voice until all she could hear was Jaxon whispering her name. She staggered back, folding in on herself as her spine hit the wall. She couldn’t stop the tears, every breath catching sharp in her throat as she cowered against the stone, gasping.
Loren froze, the concern on his face collapsing into something stark and horrified. He took a half-step forward, then stopped again. Even his shadows wavered, curling close around his boots like they didn’t know whether to shield her or him.
“Ael’sura—”
“Well,” a smooth, unhurried voice drawled from the doorway. “I can see why you’ve kept her tucked away, Your Majesty. Everything certainly does make a little more sense now.”
Loren’s shoulders snapped back, every line of him hardening as his shadows surged to life, rounding on the intruder with lethal intent. “How did you get in here?”
“That’s my job, Your Majesty.” The stranger leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. “I’d make a pretty poor spymaster if I couldn’t sneak into an unguarded castle, wouldn’t I? Now—” his gaze raked over her, freezing Araya’s sobs in her chest. “There’s nothing of greater interest to me right now than a formal introduction Jaxon Shaw’s bond.”
The shadows around Loren hissed, but Araya couldn’t pick out what they said over Loren’s snarl. “Donot.”
“Touchy.” The male clicked his tongue, shaking his head. But his eyes didn’t leave Araya’s, holding her rooted to the spot. “You might not know this, dear, but mated males can be very… territorial.”
The male hit the wall so hard the aetherlamps rattled in their sconces. Araya flinched back, her heart in her throat as the shadows dragged the stranger up the wall, his chuckle cutting off in a pained wheeze. But it wasn’t until Loren’s hands wrapped around his throat that his gaze finally left hers.
Araya gasped in a breath, her body acting before her mind caught up. One moment she was frozen—then she was shoving past Loren. She lurched through the door, the pounding of her boots on the stone floor ringing louder in her ears than her own ragged breaths. She couldn’t get enough air, her throat closing tight as fresh tears blurred her vision.
She turned a corner too fast and slammed into something solid. Someone caught her before she fell, hands steadying her with firm pressure at her shoulders.
“Araya?” Thorne’s eyes searched her face, taking in her blotchy cheeks and wild eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“Loren—there was a knife—he made me—” Araya shuddered, her throat bobbing as the words tangled in her throat. “Someone—someone came in. Loren—I think Loren is going to kill him.”
Thorne’s expression hardened, though his grip on her arms eased. “Everything is going to be fine,” he said firmly. “You’re safe. Now go—lock yourself in your room.” His tone left no room for argument. “I’ll deal with Loren.”
Araya nodded. She stumbled past him, racing for the one place here where she could shut the door and hide.
Chapter
Twelve
“You haveten seconds to start explaining yourself before I let these shadows rip you apart,” Loren growled.
“I would,” Eryn rasped, “But you seem rather intent on strangling me. If you could just?—”
Loren snarled, shoving the other male back against the wall. Eryn coughed, clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders as he brushed his clothing back into place.
“For a politician, you’re rather easy to provoke,” Eloria’s spymaster said lightly, his lips curling into something closer to a sneer than a true smile. “Not the best trait in a ruler. If you’re not careful, people will start to say you’re unstable. I wonder what they would think if they knew you ordered your mate to put a knife to her own throat?—”
