Page 11
Chapter Eleven
FELICITY FORREST
“Some magic binds the willing. The oldest kind takes without asking, without mercy, and without regret.”
The Unwritten Laws of the Fae Courts, as told by Ariel O’Sullivan
S hadow Witch. The nickname isn’t playful or offhand. It’s a claim burning into me like a mark that says there’s no way out. No escape. No undoing what just happened.
My fingers are still digging into his shoulders, my nails embedded in the hard muscle. I glance down, catching sight of the little crescent moons I’ve etched into his skin. A laugh bubbles up—half disbelief, half hysteria. I won the bet with Cyn, but at what cost?
I’m a mess. A hot, sweaty, post-apocalyptic bedroom mess. My skin hums, my body still thrumming from the aftershocks, but my pulse refuses to settle.
Niall doesn’t give me a second to catch my breath. Doesn’t give me space to second-guess. Instead, he kisses me like he’s trying to map my soul, one slow brush of his lips at a time. My forehead. My cheeks. My eyelids.
Each kiss carries a message I’m not ready to hear. I’m in too deep. Too far gone.
He rolls onto his side, pulling me with him, keeping me caged against the solid heat of his body. His arm hooks around my waist, his grip firm, possessive, grounding. I tuck my head under his chin, letting his scent wrap around me—earth and smoke and something inherently him. It should be calming.
It isn’t.
Every time I blink, I see it. The flashes of what happened. The shadows twisting like living things. The way our marks burned bright, searing a truth onto my skin I’m not ready to face.
The air is thick with its finality. The marks on his skin. The marks on mine. The raw heat still licking through my veins. The shadows linger in the corners of the room, refusing to completely fade.
It’s proof. Proof that we started something bigger than the two of us. Something I don’t understand. Something I might not be able to stop.
I shift, pressing closer to him, as if his heartbeat might hold the answers I can’t bring myself to say aloud. My fingers drift over his skin, trailing along his neck until they brush against the mark there.
It’s still warm. Still pulsing like a second heartbeat. I trace the intricate lines, feeling them glow faintly beneath my fingertips—like an ember that refuses to burn out.
“What just happened, Niall?” My voice is barely above a whisper, heavy with meaning and everything I’m too afraid to ask outright.
His chest rises in a slow breath, like he’s been waiting for this question but still isn’t sure how to answer.
“We’re bound.” His voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the finality in it.
I go still. “Bound?”
His fingers brush over mine, pressing my hand flat against his mark. “That seal is a ward. It ties us together in ways you don’t understand yet.”
My fingers freeze over the glowing symbol. My throat tightens. “You mean…forever?”
His eyes are molten. Unreadable. “Through lifetimes.”
I pull back slightly, lifting my head, needing to see the truth in his face.
My chest tightens. “But I’m…” I hardly know what I am anymore. My voice cracks. “How is that even possible?”
A shadow of a smile ghosts over his lips, but there’s no humour in it.
“That’s the thing about the fae,” he murmurs. “We don’t play by the same rules.”
I swallow hard. “So, what—you’re telling me this bond just…happened? Like fate tied a nice little bow around us and decided we’re stuck with each other?”
His gaze sharpens. “The bond chose us.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “You keep saying that, but what the fuck does it mean ?”
His hand cups my face, thumb ghosting over my cheekbone. “I don’t have all the answers, love.” He trails his fingers down, brushing the mark above my heart. It pulses under his touch. “But this ? This is proof. Proof that we belong to each other.”
The word slams into me like a wrecking ball. Belong. Panic claws up my throat. My heart kicks into overdrive.
“I didn’t ask for this.” My voice shakes, my breath coming faster. Fear wraps itself around my ribs, tightening. Squeezing.
“Breathe, love?—”
“No!” I shove away from him, scrambling to my feet. “You can’t just drop this on me and expect me to be fine with it!”
A candle flares to life beside the bed. The flame flickers, twisting like it’s listening.
“What kind of fae parlour trick is this?” My voice is sharp, too sharp, but I can’t rein it in.
He watches me carefully. “It’s not a trick. It’s ancient magic. Older than the courts, older than the standing stones.” His jaw tightens. “It doesn’t give a damn about what we want.”
I take a step back, shaking my head. “Like hell it doesn’t.”
“The bond chooses.” His voice is steady. “It binds.”
The room feels too small. The walls too close. My chest hurts. And I feel like I’m dying.
I press my fingers to my temple, trying to breathe through the rising panic. “I didn’t ask for this, Niall. I don’t want to belong to anyone, and I sure as hell don’t need some cosmic fae joke deciding my life for me.”
His entire body goes still. Then, slowly, he rises. The movement is liquid. Predatory. His voice is sharp as a blade. “Do you think I wanted this?”
The words are a slap.
“You think I woke up one day and thought, ‘You know what would be fun? A bond with a mortal who doesn’t even know what she is?’”
His frustration crackles in the air. The raw, brutal honesty of it steals the breath from my lungs.
I open my mouth to fire back, but the room shifts. The temperature drops.
A shadow slithers along the far wall, stretching unnaturally. The air turns heavy. Thick with something I don’t understand.
Whispers curl into the edges of my mind.
A cold voice slithers in. “You’re not enough.”
A second voice, low and cruel. “You’re adopted. No one loves you. No one ever will.”
A shiver racks my spine. My breath stutters. No. No, this isn’t real.
Another whisper, closer. “Niall will cheat on you. Everyone leaves you.”
My stomach lurches. The shadows pulse, stretching toward me, whispering things I don’t want to hear.
“Stop,” I whisper, clutching my head. “Stop it.”
Niall moves in an instant. Steps between me and the dark. His voice is like a whipcrack. “Sluagh.”
I go rigid. The word shakes something loose inside me. Sluagh. A deep, primal memory stirs. Half-formed. Half-remembered. But there’s no time to process. The shadows lunge. The whispers become screams.
And Niall? He draws his dagger. His body locks into something ancient and ruthless. His head turns just enough to catch my eyes, and the storm in them is terrifying. “Stay behind me.”
“Make it stop!” I scream.
“It’s feeding.” Niall’s voice snaps me out of the spiral. His arms spread wide, wraith-like tendrils reaching out to combat the darkness.
“They won’t stop!” My voice trembles as the whispers coil tighter, suffocating me.
“The mark,” he says sharply, his amber eyes locking onto mine. “It’s more than a brand. It’s a ward—bloodline magic, but this one marks our bond. Call it. Let it protect you.”
“I don’t know how!”
“Yes, you do.” His voice softens, steady as an anchor. “You’ve always known. Trust me, Shadow Witch. Trust yourself .”
The Sluagh close in, shadows stretching toward me like jagged claws of despair. My knees buckle. I drop to the floor, clutching the mark over my heart. Its warmth pulses faintly. I close my eyes, blocking out everything but that heat, the connection between us, when I let myself trust him.
The mark flares suddenly, a burst of searing light that sends the Sluagh skittering back like an insect exposed to the sun. The whispers fade, replaced by an eerie silence as the shadows shrink and retreat.
Niall kneels, his hands gentle as they cup my face. His gaze searches mine. “Are you okay?”
“What the hell was that ?” My voice shakes as I try to catch my breath.
He helps me to my feet, steadying me as the reality of what just happened sinks in. “I told you. Sluagh. They are drawn to fear, doubt. They’re relentless. And this—” his eyes drift to the window where the light streams faintly through the glass— “this is only the beginning.”
I swallow hard, dread curling in my stomach. “The beginning of what?”
“The end,” he says, his voice heavy with something deeper than fear.