Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

The obvious tension in his body and the taut undercurrent in his voice sent a chill racing over my skin. I wondered about the implications of those little words.

“Rhyzkahl. What’s wrong? Please tell me.”

He crouched and picked up his breeches, tugged them on in silence. “Too much is in motion,” he finally said with something akin to regret in his voice. He picked up his shirt, slipped it on and began to button it. “I cannot stop it now. I can only move forward.”

I wanted to ask him if he could be any vaguer, but this was freaking me out a little so I opted for a more direct question. “What are you talking about?”

He turned fully to me, beautiful and terrible, like I’d imagine a fallen angel to be if there were such things. The words fell heavily in measured slowness. “Potency. Plans. Agreements. Oaths. Treachery.”

The last word issued with a slight hiss and baring of teeth. As it all pretty much summed up what I’d seen of the bullshit that went on between lords in the past few days, I figured one of the rat bastards had fucked him over. “Anything I can do to help?”

In response he stepped forward, extended a hand to me, pulled me up when I took it. He laid his hands against the sides of my face and tenderly traced the line of my cheekbones with his thumbs. His eyes held mine, deep, enigmatic and…tormented? I’d never seen that in him before, not like this. He lowered his head to kiss me, body pressing against mine as he tangled his hands in my hair, claiming my mouth as passionately as if he feared he would never kiss me again.

The chill of the moment before slid away as I opened to the kiss, willing it to ease whatever troubled him so. I gave a soft moan when he finally broke it but smiled as I met his eyes again. “Better?”

His hands slid down to my shoulders, and he shook his head, the haunted flicker in his eyes sending a shiver of doubt through me. He bent and picked up my dress, eyes on me as he held it up in his right hand.

“Right. Time to get dressed,” I said, relieved. Things were getting weird again. “Would raise some eyebrows if I showed up back home in the buff.” Then I chuckled. “Did that once already.”

He inhaled deeply as I reached for the dress. Potency flashed from him, incinerating it to ash right before I touched it.

Shock coursed through me. I yelped and took a step back. “Rhyzkahl, what the fuck?” My confusion rose higher as the diagram abruptly flared.

Rhyzkahl lifted his hand, and I felt an oscillating wall of potency behind me as I backed near the inner ring of sigils. “You will not need it,” he said with a shake of his head.

Apprehensive, my gaze went from him to the diagram and back. “What’s going on?” I asked as the diagram continued to pulse. “Rhyzkahl, why won’t I need clothing? Are you sending me home or not?”

“Home,” he said, as though tasting the word for the first time. “A new home, yes.” His eyes flicked to the sigils as they flared once again, echoing the spike of fear that went through me.

“New home?” I shook my head as my anxiety climbed. “I don’t want a new home. I want my home. What the hell’s going on?”

“That which must be done,” he replied, disquiet ghosting across his face. To my horror he flicked a lasso of potency around my right wrist and pulled me toward the center. “You will know it as home and feel no loss.”

My fear rose, then climbed higher as the diagram flared. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this ritual was somehow keyed to strong emotion, and not the good kind either, since it had remained quiet during our lovemaking.

“Rhyzkahl, I don’t want to forget my home,” I said, heart pounding. I tried to remain as calm as possible, fought the urge to twist and struggle against the lasso. Whatever was going on, he didn’t seem fully committed to it. Maybe there was still a chance to talk my way out of it. “Please.” I kept my voice quiet and intense. “Let me go.”

Rhyzkahl went demonic-lord still, closing his eyes. He kept the tension on the lasso, but didn’t pull me closer with it. The diagram dimmed, and I allowed a whisper of hope to creep in. I’d talked people down from high-stress situations before. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with Rhyzkahl, but the best thing I could do right then was to stay calm and talk my ass out of this chamber.

“Too much is in motion,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

The diagram dimmed a bit more. My eyes flicked from the sigils and back to him. “It’s okay,” I said, keeping my voice low and calm. “Everything’s okay. Just let me go…and we’ll start over.”

“Start over.” He opened his eyes, and to my dismay the ritual brightened again. “Yes, that is what this is. Starting over.” He tightened the pull on the lasso and lifted his right hand.

My cop vibe went code red. “No, Rhyzkahl. Wait!” I didn’t know what was coming. I only knew it was bad.

The palm of his hand shimmered blue, and the haunted look faded from his eyes. “I have no choice.” He drew a deep breath, face sliding into an icy mask. As he opened his hand, a blade began to coalesce within it, bristling with thorny protrusions along its hilt, blue gem in the pommel dark and shadowed. A vile whisper slid through my mind. You are mine.

Deep, primal terror flooded me. I struggled to flee, run, anything, but a flick of Rhyzkahl’s left hand bound my arms behind me. Another flick pulled them up so that my wrists were at my lower back.

Eyes on the blade, I breathed in gasping pants. “No, Rhyzkahl, please…. It’s not too late.”

The blade glimmered oily blue, fully formed in his hand.

“It is too late…now,” he said, voice laden with deadly promise.

And I knew without doubt it was true. A heartbreaking ache of disappointment flashed through me. I’d wanted so badly to trust him, but it didn’t matter. He was going to do something terrible to me.