Page 22 of Blood Legacy (Eternal Descent (MistHallow Academy) #1)

22

FELIX

I’m two hours early to our meeting in the eastern clearing, and it’s not by accident. The megalith stones always call to me, their ancient power whispering secrets that few can hear. This area is out of bounds, out of the protective wards of the academy. The air feels fresher here, less oppressive and colder. Mist still somehow manages to permeate the forest around me, creating a place of fear where few will tread.

Setting my grimoire on a flat stone, I arrange seven black candles in a specific pattern around the central megalith.

“What are you looking for?” I murmur to the stones as I light each candle with a flick of my finger. The flames burn an unnatural blue green, casting eerie shadows across the ancient carvings.

I’ve been studying these megaliths since my first week at MistHallow. The symbols etched into them don’t match any known magickal language or runic system I’ve encountered in my studies. They’re older, much older, predating written history.

I’ve been preparing since dawn, gathering herbs and crystals from the academy’s stores and borrowing a few rare ingredients from Professor Flora’s private collection. She’ll notice eventually, but by then, it won’t matter. The pattern is forming too quickly to wait for proper permissions.

I sketch complex sigils in the dirt with my silver athame, my movements precise and practised. Each symbol pulses with dark energy as it’s completed, connecting to form a network of power that spreads beneath the megalith stones like roots.

“Show me,” I command, slicing my palm with the athame. Blood drips onto the ground, hissing as it makes contact.

The reaction is immediate. The sigils flare with crimson light, the candle flames shooting upward before settling into an eerie stillness. The air grows thick, charged with the ancient power that makes my skin tingle, and my lungs struggle for breath.

Shadows gather between the stones, coalescing into shapes that aren’t quite human. I’ve communed with such entities before, but never have they responded with such eagerness, such hunger.

“The bonds,” I whisper to the darkness, closing my eyes and crouching to press my hand to the ground. “Show me what’s breaking them.”

In a sudden rush of wind, the connection is severed, and I smile. I sense her plant her feet next to me, along with someone else. Someone of the vampire persuasion, and I resist the urge to open my eyes and roll them at her.

“Didn’t trust me?”

“Should I?”

I open my eyes to see a pair of long legs in heels, despite being in the forest. A diamond anklet is clasped around her left ankle, glimmering in the candlelight.

“Depends,” I murmur, keeping my hand to the ground. Dante doesn’t say anything. I don’t even look at him. Yet.

“On?”

“On a lot of things.” Reaching out with my free hand, I place it on her ankle bone. She stiffens but doesn’t kick me away. Smiling, I look up at her and trail my fingers up the outside of her leg.

Dante hisses when I get to her knee and slaps my hand away.

“She wasn’t concerned, so why are you?” I ask him but never take my eyes from Gaida.

“Don’t touch what isn’t yours.”

I turn slightly, intrigued by Gaida’s reaction to my touch. Her lips have parted, and her pulse is beating faster. I touch her again, but this time on her other leg, drawing my fingertips up the inside. I lift my bloodied and soiled hand from the ground, clenching it to heal with a flash of magick. Rising slowly, I keep my hand on her, tracing a light line up the sensitive flesh of her inside thigh. I can’t keep my hands off her. I need to be touching her. It’s like if I don’t, I will die.

Dante’s hand clamps on my wrist. He is seconds from kicking my arse. “Don’t interrupt me,” I murmur, unfazed by his show of aggression. “Gaida, do you want me to remove my hand?”

“No,” she breathes out, and Dante roughly removes his hand from my wrist. I draw my hand higher, brushing over her pussy but still moving up, over her dress now, between her perfect tits and up to the back of her neck. I grip it tightly, and she gasps, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Do you feel it?” I whisper.

I know she does. She cannot deny it. Everything has locked into place, and that dark side of my soul that has shied away from intimate contact is suddenly on fire. She is the reason why I’ve waited.

She nods and I crush my lips to hers. The sparks of lightning burn her, but I barely feel a tingle. Thrusting my tongue into her mouth, her fangs descend and slice it open. She sucks on it with a growl, tasting my blood. I let out a whimper of excruciating longing. Fisting my hand into her hair, I drag her closer, ignoring Dante completely, so does she as she kisses me back. I’ve kissed plenty of women, but none of them has ever had this effect on me. This need to keep skin-to-skin contact. This need to claim her, possess her. Her tongue swirls around mine, forcing me to taste my own blood, and that mewl of hunger escapes me again. She swallows it, her hand curling around the back of my head, pressing me closer to her. Her nipples brush against my shirt, and I shiver, my cock hardening, eager to revel in this interaction that isn’t forced, isn’t uncomfortable, isn’t testing or experimenting. To finish what I’ve started so many times and never followed through.

It’s fate.

She is my other half. I sensed it the moment I touched her. My pure body wants nothing more than to slam her up against the stones and ravage her, but it wouldn’t be right. Not for me and not for her.

“Felix,” she gasps against my mouth.

I release her hair and cup her face again, leaning my forehead against hers.

“Well, this is all arousing as hell. Are you two going to fuck? The bigger question being, can I join in?” Dante’s voice cuts through the moment.

“No,” I reply before Gaida can. Her arousal is off the charts. If I went in for the kill, she’d spread her legs for me with no questions asked. But the thought leaves me frozen. My first time has to be special. I’ve waited all this time, knowing the others weren’t right. Knowing that there was a fundamental issue with me. She has changed all of that.

“I can’t pull away,” she murmurs against my lips.

“I need to be touching you,” I murmur. “It will hurt to step back.”

“What is this?”

“Fate is such a weak word. It doesn’t encompass even a fraction of what this is.”

Confusion clouds her eyes.

“He thinks it’s a soul bond,” Dante answers before I can form words adequate enough to explain this.

I glare at him.

He gives me a smug smirk. “Empath. I can read you like an open book.”

“Empath?” I repeat curiously. He has piqued my interest now. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Same with you.” He stares at me with respect, telling me without words that he knows about my choices to stay pure for the one who made me feel this way.

I can’t pull myself away from Gaida, but I manage to turn my body to face Dante fully, keeping one hand firmly on her waist. “How much can you read?”

“Everything,” Dante says, his eyes narrowing.

“And what do you intend to do with that information?”

“Nothing,” he says, surprising me. “It’s not my business.”

Gaida looks between us, her breathing still uneven. “Will someone please explain what’s happening? What’s a soul bond?”

I take a deep breath, trying to organise my thoughts despite the overwhelming need to keep touching her, to take her back to my room and continue this until we are nothing but one soul split into two halves. “It’s when two souls recognise each other across time and space.”

“Like soulmates?” she asks sceptically.

“More primal than that,” Dante interjects. “Soul bonds are magickal in nature. They transcend species, time, and even death. They’re considered myths by most.”

I nod. “When souls bond, they can’t be separated without pain. The connection forms instantly and completely.”

“And you think that’s what’s happening between us?” She looks down at where her hand rests on my arm, realising that she can’t let me go.

“I know it is,” I say quietly.

“Why now? Why not yesterday when we spoke?”

“I didn’t touch you.”

“What has any of this got to do with what is happening to the turned vampires?”

“Nothing. It’s between us.”

“You said everything is connected.”

“Is there something you aren’t telling us?” Dante asks.

“Like what?”

“Like you are half vampire or some shit?”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “No, I’m not half vampire.”

Dante gives Gaida a curious stare. “Are you more magickal than you’re letting on?”

“What?” she exclaims. “No. Well, I don’t think so.” She frowns. “I don’t have any magickal abilities that I know of,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction. “My parents never mentioned anything.”

The clearing suddenly grows colder, the mist thickening around the megalith stones. The candles I placed earlier flicker violently despite the lack of wind. Something is responding to our presence, to our connection.

“We should focus on why we came here,” Gaida says, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of our conversation. “The severed bonds.”

I nod. “Yes, but we’re not done discussing this.”

“Obviously not,” she mutters, glancing down at our hands that are now laced together. “I couldn’t walk away from you right now if I tried.”

Dante circles the megaliths, studying the sigils I’ve drawn. “What were you doing when we arrived?”

“Communing with the stones,” I explain. “These aren’t just rocks. They’re conduits, ancient technology from a civilisation that predates recorded history.”

“And what did they tell you?” Gaida asks.

“Nothing yet. The connection was severed when you arrived. But I can try again.”

Gaida steps closer to me, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Try again. Now.”

There’s something in her voice that compels me to obey. I kneel, pulling her down with me since neither of us can break contact. Dante watches with narrowed eyes but doesn’t interfere.

Taking my athame, I make a shallow cut across my palm again. My blood wells up, and Gaida hisses. Her fangs have dropped, and she grips my hand tightly again after I lower the athame to the ground.

The effect is immediate and violent. The ground beneath us trembles, and the sigils flare with blinding light.

The wind picks up, swirling around us in a vortex that makes the trees groan and bend. Dante staggers back, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the light.

“What the hell is happening?” he shouts over the rising wind.

But I can’t answer him. My mind is flooded with images—ancient, terrible images of rituals performed on these very grounds, of blood sacrifice and power channelled through the stones with a symbol I recognise from my studies.

“The Severance,” I murmur. “Fuck.”