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Chapter Seventeen

ELIAS

Magnus must have punctured his lungs because as the syphen plunged into his chest, Elias couldn’t draw a breath. Pain sliced through him as the sorcerer twisted the hilt.

“Nearly there,” Magnus hissed, his voice oddly strained—quite unlike his usual stoic demeanor.

Gritting his teeth, Elias tried to stifle the scream threatening to rip out of his throat. He didn’t want to give Magnus the satisfaction of knowing how deep the pain was—or how close he was to breaking.

Being tortured with a common blade or non-magical means was one thing. It was agony, but it was bearable. It was simply flesh. But to be stabbed over and over by the very blade used to create him… It was akin to having his chest torn in two, his entire being ripped open—tearing apart everything he was until there was nearly nothing left.

Blood surged up his throat, and he coughed, choking.

Panic bled across his chest with icy fingers. For several moments, he couldn’t breathe. Gasping, he pulled against therestraints that bound him to the X. But all he could do was stand and bear everything that was being done to him.

Suddenly, his chest convulsed and air rushed into his lungs. Then blood spewed from his lips, and he spat scarlet onto Magnus’ once-rich rugs.

The pressure in his chest eased as Magnus released the hilt and stepped back. He tapped a bloodied finger against his chin.

Elias focused on taking one breath and then the next. But each was agony. The syphen remained in his chest—piercing one of his lungs. His body tried to heal itself, but the blade’s magic kept his body from mending anything it touched.

The sorcerer had changed as of late. He’d been muttering under his breath, but Elias hadn’t bothered to ask. He hardly possessed the energy to remain conscious anymore, let alone fight.

But this time, when Magnus strode around the tent, Elias caught on to one word of the sorcerer’s mutters—enchantress.

“What—” Elias began, but his punctured lung made it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone speak. He gasped, eventually managing two words. “What happened?”

A wicked smile alighted on Magnus’ face. “When you and I struck our bargain and I returned Arabella’s memories to her, I added a little bit of magic to be embedded in her mind alongside her memories.”

Elias frowned, shaking his head. What had Magnus done?

But more than that, why had he trusted Magnus would return her memories without some ulterior motive? He’d been so foolish. And that oversight could cost Arabella her freedom.

“That magic made her more… sympathetic to dark magic,” Magnus continued. “But most importantly, it allowed me to track her whereabouts.”

Shock had Elias’ mind spinning.

Magnus pressed his hands together. “But it would appear your enchantress is more capable than I thought. She managed to remove my magic.”

Meaning, Magnus could no longer track her.

Relief swelled in Elias’ chest. Before he could speak, blood bubbled up his throat once more, and he spewed it onto the ground.

Magnus sighed. “Perhaps it’s time for another offering. Can’t have you succumbing to your inner demon just yet.”

“No,” Elias snapped, the word tearing out of him. Shame bled into that single word—shame for what he’d done to that innocent woman.

I’ve already killed someone. I won’t do it again.

But if he was presented with another mortal, he didn’t think he could stop himself.

For the first time, he wondered if succumbing to the hunger was so bad. He didn’t fear death—never had. But the idea of fading into the demon lurking beneath his skin, to lose his memories and be driven solely by the desire to feed… That fate had once terrorized his waking dreams. But now? He realized then that fear didn’t fill him at the thought as it once had.

A smile lifted the corner of Magnus’ lips. “Perhaps I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

In a flash, the sorcerer was before him—his lips hovering in front of Elias’. If Elias moved even the slightest, they would kiss. He kept his body still, knowing what would come next.

The sorcerer’s eyes glowed red, and desire churned in Elias’ gut. Then the air before the sorcerer shimmered like heat above cobblestone streets in the summer.