He cupped my cheek, his thumb gently circling the vulnerable spot beneath my jaw. ‘How long, Genevieve?’ His murmured question glided over my collarbone like a summer breeze.
‘Two nights.’ My own whisper was breathless. Two nights since I’d satisfied my body’s craving for vamp venom.
A low growl vibrated through him as his lips marked a heated trail from my ear to my pulse. His mouth closed over it, the teasing press of fangs drawing a whimper of need from me. For an achingly long, heart-thudding moment he held me, his arms wrapped about me, his mouth at my throat, only the thin barrier of my skin separating us. Then he pierced my flesh.
Pleasure, sharp and exquisite, sliced through me as his venom shot into my veins. But even as my body reacted in fierce delight to the demanding draw of his mouth, the feeling morphed, twisting into excruciating, torturous agony. I screamed, throwing myself away from him, only to have my legs give way as I collapsed on the grass, shaking with pain-filled aftershocks.
I slapped a hand over my bleeding neck and gaped up at him. ‘What the—?’ My croaked demand stuttered. He was staring with enough horror that an errant part of me wondered if I’d suddenly grown three heads, half-a-dozen assorted limbs and shifted into some sort of monster.
‘What the hell was that?’ I croaked again.
He crouched before me, with none of his usual elegance, his body radiating panic, whispered, ‘You bear my soul, Genevieve.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, shivering as I realised it wasn’t only Malik who was panicked; his soul was too. The ball of silvery light felt like it had stuck claws into my body; the source of all the pain. ‘How else was I going to give it back to you?’
He pulled Janan from behind him. ‘You will allow me to transfer it to this.’
I frowned, then remembered him telling me Malak al-Maut, whose knife Janan was, had used the knife to carry those souls he’d collected. ‘Sure—’
He stabbed me in the chest, the stench of burning flesh hit me and Malik gave an agonised yell, his hand spasaming open.
I stared in shock at the blade buried to the hilt between my breasts, its amber dragon’s tear flashing like a warning beacon, instinctively thinking it should hurt, and that there should be blood. Only, of course, it was a soul-bonding knife; there was no blood, and if there was any pain the claws piercing my body eclipsed it. I swallowed then looked at him. ‘Give a girl some notice next time . . .’ I trailed off. Pink-tinged sweat beaded his forehead, his stare fixed on the knife in dismayed disbelief. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It refused!’
‘What did?’
‘My soul.’ He grabbed my wrist, yanking me to my feet. ‘Come. We must find Bastien. You must bond my soul back to him.’
I bit back a scream as the claws gripped harder at Bastien’s name. No way did Malik’s soul like that idea. ‘Why can’t you have it back?’ I said, then yelped as the claws shrank back and tried to burrow inside my heart; his soul obviously wasn’t on board with that suggestion either.
A shudder rippled through Malik. ‘It does not like the revenant.’
I opened my mouth. Then shut it again. We were heading back into weird possession/alter-ID territory again and I didn’t feel up to debating it, not with his soul chiming sharply in on the discussion too.
‘Bastien said he didn’t want your soul back,’ I told him.
‘He will.’ Resolve crossed Malik’s face. ‘You should not have bonded my soul to yours, Genevieve.’
‘I didn’t bond them,’ I said. ‘I’m an Anima Devoro, remember?’
Shock flashed in his eyes. ‘You ate my soul.’
‘No, of course not. I absorbed it. It was happy about it so it’s not hurt. That only happens when the soul or spirit objects.’
He released me, horror filling his eyes. ‘How many souls have you eaten, Genevieve?’
‘Stop looking like that,’ I said, annoyed. ‘It was only some of the half-formed in Between and I spat the pieces back out again. They’ll stick themselves back together soon enough; maybe even manage better shapes next time. Oh, and the two that didn’t fight’ – Viviane and Gold Cat – ‘are fine. Same as your soul’ – I placed a hand over my heart – ‘it was here, quiet as a mouse, until you bit me, so why not leave it—’
He shook his head, eyes blazing. ‘My soul is damaged, Genevieve. It will cause you harm. You have seen how Bastien is.’
I blinked. ‘Bastien is a crazy psycho because he had your soul?’
‘Yes.’
I frowned, recalling Malik’s harem memory and the child Bastien ripping his sister’s doll apart. He’d seemed pretty much fully-fledged as a psychopath back then. ‘Did Bastien have your soul as a child?’
Malik swiped an anxious hand over his head. ‘No, he did not. He took it some years after I was cursed with the revenant. Come, we must find him.’ He took my wrist again.
‘Wait!’ I pulled out of his hold. ‘I can’t wander around with a knife-hilt sticking out of my chest. People will freak out.’ I carefully wrapped my hand around the flashing dragon’s tear, hesitated, then, under Malik’s worried gaze, yanked it out. As far as I could tell, my own soul stayed in place, seeing as I didn’t drop down dead or float off with the breeze, as did Malik’s; its claws still had their death-grip on my heart.
I tucked Janan safely in the back of my jeans. ‘Right,’ I said, pleased my voice only shook slightly. ‘Let’s go and find Bastien, but remember, the priority here is to get the info about the fae’s trapped fertility out of him. We can worry about your soul later, okay?’
‘I do not think—’ He stopped, stared up at the heavens as if entreating some god, then just as I was about to push the point, he took a breath he didn’t need. ‘We will do that, Genevieve.’
‘Right.’ I rubbed my breastbone as the pain there vanished. Malik’s soul had sheathed its claws the second he’d agreed and was now back to being a soft ball of silvery light. Damn. It was determined to become a permanent resident. Later.
‘So,’ I said, ‘did you get enough of my blood for whatever it was you were planning to do?’ Not that I thought either of us were up to him trying to bite me again.
‘It is possible, but we shall see.’ His mouth twisted and he offered his hand, wary. I took it just as cautiously, braced for the claws. Nothing. We both sighed in relief.
He held the slashed tent open and we stepped back in together.
Waiting for us was Bastien.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Bastien flashed fangs. ‘Well, well, my loyal shadow and my lovely sidhe princess.’
Malik stepped smoothly between me and Bastien. ‘Our agreement was that you should cause Genevieve no harm, Emir.’ His voice was soft with threat. ‘You will take my soul back now; else I will consider it broken.’
‘You know I have not broken any agreements, Abd al-Malik. The sidhe took your soul of her own volition.’
‘Genevieve would not have been in a position to do so, had you not altered the plan. This is—’
Malik fell silent as Bastien held up one finger then treated me to a gleeful smile. Dread crawled down my spine as I leaned forward to look at Malik. He was frozen, his beautiful face etched with anger and determination.
Crap. Looked like Malik didn’t get enough of the power in my blood. And going by Bastien’s expression, he hadn’t had the juice to trap Malik before. Damn. I so didn’t want to find out what other little extras chomping the Emperor’s head had given the psycho.