Page 66 of Blood Magic (Dark Witch Chronicles 1)
19
Bronywyn
Ipop another sea salt dark chocolate caramel into my mouth and gaze out at the brightening sky. It doesn’t bring me the same joy as it once did, watching the sun rise.
I worry it’s because my soul is steadily slipping further and further into the shadow that beckons me every waking moment of every day. Truthfully, every passing hour brings me closer and closer to not giving a shit about anyone or anything but myself.
After all, why the hell should I risk my already broken and damaged soul to help those who refuse to accept what I am now? I glance down at the orange liquid in my champagne flute, and briefly consider throwing it off the balcony for only the satisfaction of watching the glass shatter.
Just like my heart did last night when that bastard manipulated me. The very fact that it’s delicious and I don’t want to waste it, keeps me from doing just that. I’m pressing the cool glass to my lips when a trickle of awareness spreads over my skin, tiny prickles of warning letting me know the silent wards I placed all around the property have been triggered.
Someone is here, and they shouldn’t be.
Kill them.
We don’t even know who it is,I remind the voice.
It doesn’t matter.
With a roll of my eyes, I push away from the balcony, grabbing one last chocolate off the tray and popping it into my mouth. As I step into the hall, I wash it down with the rest of my mimosa, then head down the stairs, glass still in hand.
The magic hits me before I even round the corner of the staircase, and my own surges in return. Just as I’m reaching the bottom, my butler pulls open the door, and I’m greeted with the glares of both Astor sisters.
“You’re excused,” I tell my help. With a nod, he leaves, and both women step inside without invitation. “Have you come to get yourselves killed, then? Who wants to go first?”
“Go ahead and fucking try,” Rainey growls, her left hand stretched to reach behind her back, presumably wrapped around the butt of the pistol she carries there. I have no concern, though. Her weapon can do nothing to me.
Delaney steps forward. “Tarnley needs you.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn away from the door and make a mental note to rip Chasin a new one, seeing as how his ugly necklace did absolutely nothing to keep me hidden. “In case you’ve forgotten over the span of the last twelve hours, I went to help him last night, and you lot decided a magical intervention was more important. His death is on your hands.”
“Listen here, bitch—” Rainey starts.
“He’s going to die, Bronywyn,” Delaney interrupts. “Do you really expect me to believe that you don’t care?”
I turn toward her and cross both arms. “I don’t care. Not anymore.”
She shakes her head. “You’re a liar.”
“No. I’m really not.”
“Bring him in!” Rainey calls back.
Elijah and Cole step into my house, Tarnley’s limp body draped over the shifter’s shoulder. He lays him down on my couch, and even in my diminished emotional state, it takes every bit of control I have not to rush forward and offer him my wrist. To force my blood inside of him even if his stubborn ass claims to no longer want it.
You miserable bastard.
Let him die,the voice urges me.And kill them. The witch’s power will make a nice addition to our own.
I force the voice back and study Tarnley’s body, his chest barely rising with each labored breath. “He is not my problem.”
“Really?” Delaney asks, angrily. “You’re just going to let him die? Tell me, what does that do for the bond on your end?”
“No.” Rainey whips her pistol out and levels it on me. “You’re not going to let him die. Give him your blood or I’ll bleed you the fuck out and feed him myself.”
“Rainey—”
“No,” Rainey interrupts Delaney. “The time to give her a chance at redemption has passed. This bitch has chosen her path, but I’ll be damned if she takes Tarnley down with her.” She narrows her gaze. “Now, feed him.”