Chapter 6 · The Cost of Blood

"Get your hand off me before I rip it off," I snapped.

I didn't move. I couldn't. Kane’s grip on my wrist was a vice, dragging me back from the edge of the blood-red ward shimmering across the prison floor.

"You're shaking, Nora. Again," he murmured. His breath was hot against my ear. He didn't let go. Instead, he stepped closer, his chest pinning me against his shoulder blades. The heat coming off him was the only thing keeping my magic from spiking and blowing us both through the wall.

"I'm not shaking. I'm vibrating with the urge to punch you," I lied.

He chuckled—a low, dangerous sound that rattled in his throat. "Liars don't get the keys. Now look at the ward. Tell me what you see."

I squinted. The barrier wasn't just light; it was a weave of royal blood, thick and suffocating. It tasted like copper and old screams. "It's a lock. But it's not looking for a key. It's looking for a signature."

"Correct." Kane finally released my wrist, only to slide his hand up to the nape of my neck. His thumb brushed the sensitive skin just below my hairline. I shivered.