“So our kidnapper could touch the Eye and have nothing happen if you’re already bound to someone else?”
The demon inclined its head in acquiescence.
“There’s our answer,” said Mick.
Sophie stared at him, a sinking feeling in her gut. “I don’t understand.”
“We have to make a deal with the devil.”
~*~
Sophie looked stricken, but the expression of anxiety rapidly shifted to one of stubborn fury. “No. Mick you can’t.” She shook her head, moving between him and the Eye, though Mick wasn’t sure if it was to deliberately block him or force him to listen. “You don’t know what bonding with the Eye would do to you. No matter your intent, that kind of power could warp you. No one who’s ever wielded the Eye did so with good intentions.”
She turned to look at the demon, obviously desperate for backup. “Tell him.”
It lounged against the work table, deceptively casual in stance, but its eyes burned with interest. “It is true that I have, over centuries, taken on the characteristics of my former masters. And I, in turn, have shaped them.”
“So it was always sought after by the power hungry,” said Mick. He took Sophie by the shoulders, willing her to understand. “I’m not. Never have been. I have no intention of wielding the Eye at all, just tying up its power long enough to make the deal and get Liza.”
“And then what?” she demanded. “Be bound to a demon for the rest of your natural life? To have that kind of power at your beck and call, just waiting for an excuse to be used? Even the most noble of men would bow to that eventually. You may not even have to consciously decide to use it. For all you know, the demon can act on your desires, whether they are voiced or not.”
That gave him pause. Mick was confident he could control his own actions, but his desires? That was another matter entirely. He looked to the demon for confirmation. “Can you?”
It shrugged. “It is a symbiotic relationship. I know the thoughts and desires of my host. But I have never had one who did not act on those desires, so, truthfully, I do not know. The Eye is not the tool of honorable men.”
“Then it’s time you had an injection of honor to remind you of what you could have been.” Decided, Mick let her go. He took a step toward the table where the Devil’s Eye lay, but Sophie countered, moving into him.
“What about the rest of your Pack? What happens to them if the Eye corrupts you?” she demanded.
He looked down at the small hands pressing against his chest, over the heart that was quite suddenly thudding with a fear he hadn’t considered. His Pack, his family was everything to him. He’d devoted his life to protecting his group of misfits. The idea that the Eye could somehow change that, could somehow make him hurt them was untenable. He would never betray his Pack. And that conviction was what held him firm in his resolve. “It won’t corrupt me,” he said.
“But what if—”
Mick laid a finger over her lips, stopping whatever additional protest she was about to make. “I can’t operate on what-ifs and maybes.” He didn’t give himself time to think about whether he was just talking about the situation with Liza, ruthlessly shutting off the thought of what could be with Sophie if things had been different. For all his bravado, he knew he was probably signing a death warrant. If regret was bitter on his tongue, it was a familiar taste. “I have to operate on what is. This is. The only way we can get Liza back is if we deliver the Eye and the kidnapper can’t actually use it. There is no other choice. I have to do what’s right for her.”
“What about what’s right for you?”
“I don’t matter.” It was a simple, honest statement, something he fully believed. The Pack was more important.
“You do to me.” She looked shocked, but she didn’t take it back and the words hung between them, evidence of a connection he could barely admit to.
He wanted time. Leisure to explore this unexpected gift. But time was a luxury they didn’t have, and Liza’s life depended on their actions in the next hour.
Mick cupped her cheek, memorizing the feel of it beneath his hand as he whispered, “It will be all right, Sophie.” Then he stepped around her and reached for the Eye.
The stone was cold to the touch, making the skin of his palm shrink and tighten. Then it melted, and the liquefied mass began to climb up his arm, growing and groping like some giant amoeba.
“What the fuck?”
Mick couldn’t help it. He shook his arm, trying to dislodge the crimson blob. But it stayed wrapped around him, moving up to his shoulder, his chest, down his torso, cocooning him in freezing bands that drove the air from his lungs.
“Mick!” Sophie screamed and started toward him.
“No!” he gasped. “Stay back!”
He fell to his knees, his wolf rising up in response to the threat. His limbs popped and twisted in an agonizing attempt at a shift that left him caught between forms. He tipped back his head and let out a long, anguished howl that was choked off as the noxious liquid invaded his mouth. Panic gripped him, strangling even tighter than the nebulous blob itself. Trapped. He was trapped inside this thing, inside his own body. Dying.
You must give in to the Eye. The demon’s voice stroked his mind like barbed fingers, slicing, sliding their way inside.