But from between the tattoos crawled a stygian darkness, like black ink that was also somehow alive. Shadows writhed around his face, so dark and thick I couldn’t see his features until, for an instant, they flitted away.
In that moment, I saw what lay beneath—a heartbreakingly beautiful face, with cheekbones sharp as blades and eyes the color of a glacial stream. Most of all, his wicked smile made my blood turn to ice.
He was simultaneously the most beautiful and the most terrifying man I had ever seen, like someone sent by the gods to destroy everyone. But I had no idea what or who he was. He had neither the silver hair of the Dokkalfar nor the blond of the High Elves. Clearly, he wasn’t human—his size and all the inky magic made that clear. So what the Helheim was he?
Whatever he was, I’d caught his attention, and it sent jolts of fear through my nerve endings.
With his gaze locked on me, he raised his right index finger and began to cast a strange sort of magic.
Chapter 6
Marroc
With my index finger, I traced sowilo, the S-shaped rune for sun. It was hardly a spell, but even so, the curse roared in my veins. I gritted my teeth and forced my hand to keep moving. When I finished, the air glowed with light, and I could see at last.
From the cell across the hall, a female Night Elf stared at me, silver eyes wide as saucers.
There you are, little one.
She was the one who’d woken me from my sleep. Silver hair cascaded down her back, and her wide cheekbones shimmered faintly under the golden light, her eyebrows and eyelashes black as jet. Although she wore a furry jacket, I found my gaze sliding down to her body. She wore tight leather pants that showed off her shapely legs.
Once, long ago, lust for her body would have raged in me as I looked at her. Now, it was a different kind of desire. I wanted to drink her soul, to press my mouth against her neck and drain her completely. Hunger for her ripped through me. Every guard I’d drained in here had been dull, their souls as mediocre as their lives. For a thousand years, I’d been unfulfilled.
This one, this beauty across from me—her soul would taste divine.
Every one of my muscles went tense, and I gripped the bars. I couldn’t do it, though—couldn’t let myself get close enough to give in. Draining her soul would be a disaster for me—it would cost me my own life.
Because from here, I could feel what had happened. She wasn’t the owner of one soul, but two. When she’d stolen my golden ring, my soul had taken shelter within the thief, and she was now its vessel. That was what had woken me in my cell. And I had to do everything within my power to keep her safe—to keep my own soul alive.
She was the one living creature I could never kill.
But was that only because she had my soul? She was my mate, too. After all, that was what my spell had commanded: that my mate find the ring, even if she had no idea the part she played in my magic.
I could feel the mating bond, vaguely. A sense of protectiveness glowed, dull in my chest like a dying ember. Without the curse, it would have raged like a flame. Still, it was amazing that I could feel anything at all. I couldn’t love anymore, but I still felt something for her, dimly.
And yet fate had truly offered me a poisoned dish. The gods had doubly cursed me with this Night Elf. Once she knew who I really was, she’d hate me for eternity. She wouldn’t rest until I was dead. And possessing my soul as she did, fate had given her the means to kill me easily.
The elf had inched back when I’d revealed myself, but now she moved forward again, her slim fingers wrapping around the iron bars. She should have been terrified of me, but she looked curious.
Gold sparkled on one of her fingers. Even though I knew she carried my soul, my heart thrummed when I saw the familiar circlet. It was the ring I’d forged a thousand years ago, the vessel that had housed my soul for millennia.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
The moment I tried to speak, blood roared in my ears, and my skin burned as though a thousand suns shone upon it. The curse heated my blood, and the words died in my throat.
I let out a long, slow sigh, then stepped back into the depths of cell. Maybe not right now, but I’d get to her, one way or another.
Chapter 7
Ali
At least an hour of silence had passed since I’d been thrown into this cell, during which my strange prison friend had disappeared into the shadows. As he’d slunk back into the darkness, the aches in my body had returned.
Now, I couldn’t see him at all; inky darkness collected around him. Strangely, even my Dokkalfar eyesight couldn’t pierce those shadows, and he wasn’t making a single sound. I could smell him a little, though. And it wasn’t a bad smell, either—like wood smoke and burned sage. I breathed it in. There was almost something alluring about it, despite how terrifying he’d appeared.
I sat on the stone bench, trying to work out a plan. Apparently, the guard hadn’t seen me as much of a threat, because he’d hardly searched me. For safekeeping, I’d stashed the vergr crystal in my shoe—a possible route out of here, I had thought, if I could manage it.
And yet it couldn’t get me out of here. I’d already tried.
About twenty minutes earlier, I’d slipped the crystal between the cell bars. I’d actually escaped my cell and walked to either end of the cellblock, only to find the doors to the block were solid and locked. There was no way to get my crystal through, so I was stuck here for now.
Unfortunately, waiting for someone to open the door so I could toss the stone through meant sweating in my winter coat. The acrylic fur was making my neck itch, the fake goatskin trapping in the heat. But there wouldn’t be time to throw it on if the door creaked open.
I searched the darkness for my prison buddy again—the terrifying man with the cold eyes who seemed like he might eat my soul. Nothing.
“Skalei,” I whispered, and the knife appeared. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it; I just felt better with it in my hand. The blade was magically sharp, and it could slice through the flesh of my enemies in an instant. Not, unfortunately, troll arms or iron bars.
I began to hum the Rick Roll song as I flipped the blade in my hand. Five full rotations of razor-sharp steel. Once with my eyes opened, once with them closed. An old assassin’s habit to pass the time.
I hoped a guard would be showing up at some point with food. That was when I’d make my move. Although there was every possibility they planned to let me starve down here. Might explain the stench of death.
Just as I raised Skalei for another toss, light and voices flooded the cellblock.
“In with Marroc?” came a feminine voice, followed by tinkling laugher. “That is brilliant. She’s probably pissed herself with fear.”
I was getting the impression that they had no idea who I was.
Another voice, this one masculine but still with the mellifluous tone of the High Elves: “I still can’t believe Father sent us down here. This place is vile.”
“Sune, you know how he is. He only trusts his own family. I, for one, am honored to do as he asks.” The woman’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
I peered between the bars, and my stomach sank. A trio of High Elves had entered the cell block. If I threw my crystal, they’d almost certainly catch me.