"Stop right there, Voss! Drop the blade or we paint the pavement with your brains!"
I didn't stop. I couldn't. The boots of the Crown's bounty hunters were slamming against the cobblestones behind me, a rhythmic thunder that meant I was running out of alleyways. My lungs burned, tasting like copper and smog.
I dove through a rotted cellar door, sliding across a floor slick with something that smelled like old grease and failure. I didn't look back. I didn't need to. The scream of a spell-trap triggering behind me told me they were close.
Then I saw him.
He was leaning against a stone pillar, looking like he owned the damn shadows. Cael Rook. The Night Lord. The man the Crown paid a king's ransom to erase from existence. He didn't look like a monster. He looked like a problem—sharp jawline, eyes that saw too much, and a suit that cost more than my life was currently worth.
"You're late, Mara," he said. His voice was a low drawl, smooth as expensive bourbon and just as intoxicating. "I expected the Crown's favorite lapdog to find me an hour ago."
"Not a lapdog anymore," I spat, my voice rasping. "Now I'm just the bitch they're hunting."
I didn't give him time to laugh. I didn't give him time to breathe. I lunged.
My blade, etched with spell-breaking runes that hummed against my palm, sliced through the air. I didn't go for the shoulder. I didn't go for the leg. I drove the steel straight into the center of his chest.
There was a sickening thud. The hilt hit his ribs.
Cael didn't even flinch. He just looked down at the blade buried in his heart, then back up at me. A slow, predatory smirk curled his lips.
"Wrong move, sweetheart."
Then the world exploded.
It wasn't a sound. It was a rip. I felt it in my own chest—a violent, jagged tear as if something invisible had reached inside me and grabbed my soul. I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat, as a surge of black, oily fire erupted from the wound in his chest and slammed into mine.
I was thrown backward, my back hitting the damp wall with a crack that rattled my teeth. I gasped, clawing at my chest, but there was no wound there. Just a searing, pulsing heat that felt like liquid lead pouring through my veins.
"What... what did you do?" I choked out, my vision blurring.
Cael was on me in a heartbeat. He didn't stand; he glided. He pinned my wrists against the stone wall, his body pressing hard against mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of ozone and cold rain. His eyes weren't human anymore—they were swirling voids of midnight.
"You didn't just stab me, Mara," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "You triggered a blood-bond. My curse just found a new home. And it's currently eating your heart."
I tried to twist away, but his grip was iron. The power imbalance was sudden and absolute. He had the leverage; I had a hole in my soul.
"Get off me," I hissed, though it sounded more like a plea.
"Why?" He leaned closer, his chest brushing mine. I could feel his heart beating—slow, heavy, and perfectly synced with the erratic drumming in my own ribs. "Now we're sharing. If my heart stops, yours does too. We're stitched together, little spellbreaker. One big, messy, fatal knot."
I glared at him, my teeth clenched. "I'll find a way to break it. I'll rip you open and take it back."
"With what strength?" He shifted, his hand sliding from my wrist to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. He didn't pull, but the threat was there. "You can barely breathe. Look at your arm."
I looked. Under the skin of my forearm, black veins were pulsing, crawling upward toward my shoulder like living ink. It wasn't a bruise. It was a mark.
"The black fire," I whispered.
"Exactly," Cael said, his voice dropping to a dangerous vibration. "And since I'm the only one who knows how to keep it from turning you into a mindless husk, I suggest you stop trying to kill me and start listening."
"I hate you," I said, the words shaking.
"Get in line," he replied.
Suddenly, the cellar door above us shattered. Debris rained down, and the harsh, artificial light of Crown lanterns flooded the room.
"Voss! Rook!" A voice boomed—cold, precise, and terrifyingly familiar. Evelyn Hart. My former mentor. The woman who had taught me how to hunt and then framed me for a massacre I hadn't committed. "Surrender now, and I might let the executioner be quick about it."
Cael didn't move. He stayed pressed against me, his eyes scanning the ceiling. He looked at me, and for a second, the predatory hunger in his gaze shifted to something like amusement.
"Seems your ex-boss is in a hurry," he murmured.
I reached for my blade, but Cael's hand clamped over my wrist again, pinning it flat.
"Don't be stupid," he whispered. "You're too weak to fight her. But you're just strong enough to be my shield."
"I'm nobody's shield," I snapped.
"You are now." He yanked me closer, his lips almost touching mine, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. The air felt electric, a mix of hatred and something far more volatile. "Here's the deal, Mara. You help me get out of this hole and expose what Hart is hiding, and I'll keep you alive. Refuse? And I might just decide to stop my own heart right here."
I froze. He was serious. He'd kill himself just to watch me drop dead beside him.
"You're insane," I whispered.
"I'm a Night Lord," he corrected, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to my eyes. "Insanity is the job requirement."
Above us, the heavy thud of boots began to descend the stairs. Hart was coming. And she didn't come for prisoners; she came for trophies.
Cael leaned in, his voice a ghost of a sound against my skin.
"One choice, Mara. Do we walk out of here together, or do we die in the dirt?"
I looked at the stairs, then at the black fire pulsing in my arm, then at the man who held my life in his hands.
"I still want to kill you," I said.
"I'm counting on it," he smirked.
He shifted his weight, preparing to spring, but the door burst open completely. Evelyn Hart stepped into the light, her silver-plated rapier drawn and humming with lethal energy. She didn't look at Cael. She looked straight at me, her eyes devoid of any warmth.
"Step away from the monster, Mara," Hart commanded, the tip of her blade pointing directly at my throat. "Or I'll carve you out of him myself."
Cael's grip tightened on my waist, pulling me flush against him.
"Careful, Evelyn," Cael called out, his voice dripping with mock concern. "I think she's finally found someone she actually likes."
Hart's eyes narrowed. She stepped forward, the blade inching closer to my skin.
"Last warning," she said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Let go, or I'll—"
Cael didn't let her finish. He leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "Hold your breath."