Chapter 8 · What... what is this?

I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I slammed my palm down next to his, my fingers splaying across the shimmering ink.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, the world exploded in white light.

I felt a searing pain rip through my wrist, like a brand being pressed into my skin. I screamed, my head snapping back, but Silas's hand was still clamped on mine, anchoring me to the spot. I looked down and saw it: a thin, glowing red line of light sewing our wrists together. It wasn't just a visual effect. I could feel him. I could feel his heartbeat, his anger, his sudden, sharp surge of protectiveness.

And then I felt the pain shift.

Silas gasped. His grip tightened, and I saw a drop of blood leak from his palm—not from the contract, but from his own skin, bubbling up as if something inside him was fighting the bond.

"What... what is this?" I choked out.

He didn't answer. He was staring at the parchment. The ink wasn't absorbing into the page. It was flowing upward, swirling around our joined hands like a crimson whirlpool.

"You idiot," Silas hissed, though he didn't let go.