Chapter 6 · The Thorn Pact

"You’re shaking, Voss. Either you're terrified, or the black fire is finally eating your nerves," Cael said, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. He didn't move to help her. He just leaned against the damp brick wall of the alley, watching her struggle to stand.

Mara spat blood onto the cobblestones. Her left arm felt like it was being threaded with hot needles, the black veins pulsing in time with the throb in Cael's chest—the chest she had personally tried to puncture an hour ago.

"I'm not shaking," she snapped, though her knees buckled. She slammed her back against the opposite wall, sliding down until she hit the grime. "I'm calculating how many ways I can still kill you without needing to stand up."

Cael let out a dry, humorless chuckle. He stepped closer, the movement fluid and predatory. He didn't stop until his boots were inches from her boots. He leaned down, invading her space, the scent of cold rain and something like ozone and old ink clinging to him.

"Calculate faster," he whispered. "Because the Crown’s hounds are three blocks away, and your little blood-bond is leaking.