Page 90 of The Bound Blood
Dorian leans in just slightly. “Tell me something, Lindsay.” Hearing my name in his voice sends a strange shock through my chest. “Does the Veil respond to you like this every time… or only when you want something?”
“I don’t want anything,” I shoot back. But my gaze dips to his lips, and I can feel myself blush. I do not want to kiss him. I wasn’t even thinking about that until he asked his question.
“No?” His smile is all teeth. “Not even answers?”
My heart stutters. Because that is exactly what I do want, and I realize I just walked straight into that one with my reaction.
He seems to realize he’s struck a nerve, because his expression softens—barely. “You don’t have to be afraid of your magic.”
“I’m not afraid.”
He tilts his head. “Then why are you holding your breath?”
My mouth opens—and absolutely nothing comes out. Because he’s right. And I hate that he’s right.
I look away, trying to collect myself, trying not to give him the satisfaction of?—
A scream splits the night.
Sharp. Piercing. Full of terror. Both of us whip toward the sound.
Dorian’s magic snaps out instantly, severing the floating strand as he steps forward.
“North path,” he says, voice suddenly cold. “Move.”
All the banter evaporates in the same heartbeat. My pulse slams into overdrive as we break into a run, boots hitting the frost-covered ground.
The scream comes again.
Closer.
Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
Branches whip against my arms as we sprint down the north path. Frost cracks under our boots. The wards overhead flicker—just once—but enough to make my stomach drop.
Another scream tears through the air.
“Faster,” Dorian snaps, though he’s already pulling ahead, silver hair catching stray moonlight as he moves like he’s gliding, not running.
We round a corner—and stop dead.
A girl is on the ground, scrambling backward through the dirt, palms torn and bleeding as she tries to get away from the thing towering over her.
It isn’t a wraith hound. It isn’t a shade. It’s something far worse.
The creature’s body shimmers like broken glass, fragmented and half-phased, jerking in movements that don’t make sense. Its limbs split and rejoin as it crawls forward, dragging itself through a tear in the Veil behind it—one pulsing with jagged silver cracks.
My breath freezes.
“Stay back,” Dorian orders.
The creature lunges for the girl.
Dorian moves first.
Fae magic blossoms from his hands in a burst of blue-white light, slamming into the creature with enough force to send it reeling. The air shudders from the impact. The girl cries out, curling in on herself.
The creature shrieks as it hits the ground—an awful, layered sound, like it’s made of too many voices all screaming at once.
