Her expression doesn’t waver even though mine does. Varian’s does too. I can’t look back to see everyone else’s, but I can feel them. For the first time in my life I can hear Thorne’s thoughts. So potent with strong enough emotions that his mental shields are unable to hide it.
She’s claimed.
SHE’S CLAIMED!
SHE’S –
“Not,” she whispers. Dull pink eyes on me with a resigned expression. “He’s dead. We were not fated, so after death it becomes void. The only reason I’m left with the mark is because of the poison.”
That doesn’t diminish the fact that she was. That the devil who tortured her claimed her. Had his fangs in her flesh and marked her. She was afucking. Child.
Breathing deeply in through my nose, I suck her scent into my lungs and it calms me. I focus on her words instead of my emotions. I focus on her and what she said I need to do instead of the all-consuming that wants to take place.
She said the claiming is void because he’s dead and they weren’t fated. That means something. Despite us already being fated there have been stories of someone having more than one. But he was not one.
“You’re right,” I console. “It means nothing.”
And that resignation, the dejected expression on her face flinches as she gives me grateful eyes. That’s why she had always said bitemarks and claiming's and blood sharing never mattered. And despite all those things being very important to any being, especially those with fangs, I won’t let it define all that connects us.
Varian swallows thickly as he takes another step closer to her and makes to place his hand over the marking. There’s a tremor in his hand right before he makes contact. As if he doesn’t want to touch it. . . or rather he wants to kill the one who made it.
Even the feathering whispers of his thoughts I can hear.
When his hand makes contact with Mavyn’s chest her eyes immediately glaze over. Varian flinches back at it but Mavyn clenches her jaw, grabs his wrist, and pulls his hand back to her chest. Holding him in place as her nails dig into his wrist.
“Don’t bother stopping now.”
Barely a breath and then it’s like a light that goes out. As if a film goes over her physical body, she looks like a walking corpse. She hadn’t been able to even speak when I grabbed her arm, the pain was too great. It consumed her and I had only felt a flicker of it through her mind when she had to tell me to let go non-verbally.
“What is happening to her?” Varian rumbles. Furious eyes point to me but he must have enacted his empathic magic because Mavyn answers him with truth filling her words.
“Burning,” she whispers. Monotone and lifeless. “He said he’d make sure I burn for all eternity.”
“Who?” Varian growls. Fiery eyes roving over her exposed skin.
But Mavyn keeps her mouth shut. It might be called truth pulling, but the one answering does have an option not to speak. Once they open their mouth they have no choice but to speak words of truth, but they can always choose not to open their mouth to begin with.
Another growl rumbles in Varian’s chest but he doesn’t push it. He can’tforceher to open her mouth and speak. It doesn’t matter much anyway though, because we already know the answer. There’s only one being who could have caused her to burn.Caused her curse.
But there had been so much pain before. She had crumbled, crippled by it, unable to speak, unable to move. Yet now she stands perfectly still, whispering her answers but still speaking them. You wouldn’t know how much pain she’s in. Not until you look in her eyes and see nothing.
No expression, no emotion, no life.No soul.
It’s grating on my own soul.
“Where did you go two nights ago after the Willow of Lore ceremony?”
The force that is Varian’s voice when he’s truth pulling is so great even I can feel it without him touching me. Heeding me to answer even though the question is not directed at me. I can’t image how it feels for Mavyn.
Not that she shows it at all.
“Running.”
Even with my advanced hearing I have to strain to hear her.It won’t hurtmy fucking ass. She may not show she’s in pain but you can fucking tell. She’s barely breathing and her voice and words reflect that.
Varian rumbles, “Running where?”
Something slashes through her eyes. A flash of light or an emotion that was too quick for me to process. “Away.”