“Then I’ll write you a book. I’ll bespell the words. You will come to me in body, as well as spirit.”
“Only to lose you later?”
He pursed his lips.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Which means my answer is no. I don’t want to come here, be with you, only to lose you forever.”
“You can save me.”
“And I want to save you, but what I won’t do is watch you die.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “I know how these things work, Nicolai. You’ve told me you care about me. And yeah, that could be your incarceration talking, but maybe not. If we take things to the next level and you lose me, you will wither.”
He would rather wither than remain enslaved. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
“I’m not.”
“Then I will take your memory, Jane.”
Her mouth fell open. “You can do that? You would do that?”
“Yes, and yes. I would do that and a whole lot more.”
“You know the pain of having memories taken. How could you even think of doing that to me?”
Sound reasoning, which he ignored. “I will only take the memories of me.”
“So I’ll see you but won’t recognize you?” Suddenly she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving little wet tracks. “Will you recognize me?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“Don’t do this, Nicolai.”
“I must. I need you. Until your body joins your mind, you are useless to me.” Useless, but so necessary.
“But to take my memories…”
“You’ve forced my hand.” Flat, no room for compromise.
“And if we hate each other in this new beginning, as we did before?”
At first, she had watched him with those haunted amber eyes, her scent so sweet he could practically taste it. He’d wanted her, craved her, but she had kept her distance.
When at last she deigned to speak to him, he’d been worked into such a frenzy for her that he had lashed out and tried to bite her, only to waft right through her—as well as scare the Abyss out of her. She had vanished. Hadn’t returned for days. Frustration and anger had eaten him.
The next time, he forced himself to speak softly to her, to maintain his own distance, gentling her, even though such things went against the very fiber of his nature. After that, she’d come back again, and again, and camaraderie soon morphed into caring.
What he planned to do to her was a betrayal. He knew that.
He did it, anyway. He used his magic to create the book, the pen. Used his magic to write to Jane. Used his magic to send her away, back to her world, to her body. Used his magic to wipe her memories. Used his magic to bring her back to him.
And in the process, his own memories of her were taken. Not because of the witches, but because of him. He’d taken them on purpose. He’d known knowledge of his past with her would influence his future. Might even prevent him from using her.
Something was shaking him, dislodging the recollection. He tried to hold on, had to know what happened next, but the shaking continued, and he growled.
“Nicolai. Nicolai, you have to snap out of it.” Jane’s voice, closer, in the present, frantic and fearful. “Someone’s coming. Nicolai, please. Wake up.”
Please.
He released the past completely, allowing his mind to snap back into focus. He’d hurt her enough already. And, as she had feared, he would lose her again. The spell he’d used had not disrupted the very first spell cast on her. The one that would force her to lose her lover. Nothing could disrupt that spell, and none Nicolai had tried had brought her back to him. Until he’d worked with the first.
He’d brought Jane here, bound her body to his, on the condition that she leave him when—if—she fell in love with him.
So, he could keep her, as long as he prevented her from loving him.
“Nicolai.”
The present. Yes. He heard footsteps. A lot of them. Booted. Spears scraping against the ground. Power saturated the air. Laila, definitely. With her army? Probably.
Different emotions warred for dominance. Fury, elation, anticipation, hatred, anxiety. Nicolai wanted to attack, to kill, but that would place Jane in jeopardy, and that he wouldn’t do. Ever.
He jolted upright, a blur of motion. Jane had already pulled on her robe, was ready to go.
“Come.” He grabbed her arm, and jerked her away from their camp.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NICOLAI DRAGGED JANE through the forest, branches slapping at him. She was limping again, and he wanted to carry her, but Laila’s guards must have caught his scent, because the echo of their footsteps increased, and the sense of magic intensified in the night air.
They were closing in.
He could have moved from one location to another with only a thought. From here, back to the withered, perverted kingdom of Elden. His heart clenched in his chest, and he gritted his teeth. Now was not the time to think of his home. Or the condition of his home. Or his parents, and the sorcerer he would soon destroy.
What if he disappeared, but Jane did not go with him? She would be left on her own in an inhospitable environment, the enemy all around.
Damn this. He had to try something. He’d managed to beat the flood of memories back, but they were knocking at his mind, demanding release. If they overtook him again…
He focused on what was most important. He and Jane shared a past he’d barely touched on. One she still couldn’t recall. What he knew was that he wouldn’t repeat his previous mistakes.
He needed that book, the one in Delfina. Had to write something more inside of it. For when she left him. Oh, gods. Yes, that meant he would be operating under the assumption she would love and leave him, but he had to plan for the worst. Maybe, just maybe, a new spell would bring her back.
Elden had not planned for defeat, and look what had happened.
“Nicolai,” Jane panted. “I’m used to jogging, but this is like Extreme Jogging, Jungle Edition, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep up. Can we rest?”
He heard her. Distantly. Tried to concentrate on her, but the darkness was closing in on him, another memory fighting its way free.
All his life, he had absorbed the powers and magic of others. What they could do, he could then do. That was how he’d formed the air shield inside the palace. The Queen of Hearts had done so; therefore, he had done so, too. And that was why Laila had forbidden anyone from practicing their craft around him.
Some abilities lasted days, weeks. Others lasted a lifetime.
He’d remembered most of this already, so of course his mind tried to shove it aside to make room for something else, something new.
“Nicolai. Please.”
He couldn’t lock on her. More details unfolded. His ability to cast illusions, as well as move from one location to another with only a thought, had come from a witch. A lover who had tried to kill him as he lay sleeping. She had wanted to become his bride, but he had wanted only the sex. She’d tried several different identities with him, amusing him.
He’d never told her that he knew who she was, each and every time she approached, because he recognized her scent. He’d let her continue to come to him, and every time he’d made his intentions clear. Still she’d tried, hoping to change his mind. When she realized she could not, in any incarnation, she finally attacked.
One moment Nicolai was leading Jane through the forest, the next he was inside a bedroom. His bedroom, he thought. The one in his memory, with the homicidal witch. He did not realize the switch soon enough and slammed into the wall, propelling backward. He hit the floor with a black curse.
Jane was nowhere to be seen.
Nicolai popped to his feet, his blood flashing hot. He would return to the forest, now, now, damn it, now, and if anyone had touched Jane…
He remained in the bedroom.
Fangs bared, he spun, looking for the way out. Blood stained the walls, crimson splattered in every direction. The floor possessed deep grooves, each in patterns of four, as if multiple swords had been dragged over it and had cut into the wood.
The giant, hairy creatures, their legs—four on each side—sharp and deadly. They had been here. They had come for him.
Nicolai had been pumping into a woman, a servant. His door had flown open, and he’d heard the screams echoing from below, in the great hall. He should have heard them sooner, but his partner had been screaming, too, distracting him.
Nicolai had reached for his blood daggers, the ones he kept on his nightstand, intending to fight the monsters, wondering about his family, but he’d…disappeared, falling straight into a winding black hole.
Had his siblings died alongside his parents? Or fallen into the same hole? He remembered curses around him, echoing.
Now he stopped breathing. He hadn’t wanted to remember this, not yet, but… Was he certain his parents were dead? Was there no longer any question in his mind?
He didn’t need to think about it. Yes. He was certain. They were dead. The knowledge practically seeped from the mold-covered walls around him. He hadn’t seen them die, but he’d felt the drain of their life forces. They were gone.
Oh, gods. And his siblings?
No, not dead. Now that he knew what to check for, he could feel their energy swirling inside him still; only, the energy was…different than before. Were they trapped somewhere? Unable to free themselves? Probably. Otherwise, Dayn would have destroyed the Blood Sorcerer and reclaimed the palace.
Dayn and his ability to hunt anyone or thing. Micah, sweet baby-faced Micah, would have been running down the halls and laughing. Breena would have been trying her hand at magic, messing up her spells.
With these thoughts, he wanted to drop to his knees, roar to the heavens, curse, rant and rail, fight everything and everyone. How to find them? How to free them?
Now he also realized he’d heard Dayn’s voice in his dreams. Calling to him, telling him to heal himself. They shared a blood connection, something that could never be destroyed. They could speak again.