19

I t burns.

My skin hardens before cracking and bleeding, peeling away with the blazing heat, the inferno lashing angrily around me. Flesh slides from my bones as I push through the flames, trying to see, trying to find him. My bare feet stick to the rug, melting from the fire spreading all over my house. A window downstairs smashes. Something pops. An alarm bellows. I try to scream, to yell out his name, but my lips are sealed.

As I reach up to try to pry them apart, I stare at my hands, the knuckles and veins and nerves bubbling like acid. My clothes are nonexistent, like the family I once knew, all dead as their lives are dragged from their bodies.

A door is thrown open, and I plummet into a world I shouldn’t know. A darkness so deep I can neither see nor focus on it as vines encase me in a tomb.

Death to her.

Death to all.

Death to her.

Death to all.

“Death to her! Death to all!” The echoing voices ricochet around in the shadows. Howls and laughter. Screams and cheers as blue flames erupt around me once more. “Death. To. Her!”

No. Please stop , I say in my head, begging the lost souls to stop this, to release their curse and take me back to my family.

The astral projection keeps forcing me from the tomb to a cliff to a tower, stopping on a platform surrounded by crowds with their hoods up and faces blurred out.

My lungs are filling with smoke, my vision slowly going. A faint light shines before me, but as I try to reach for it, excruciating pain blasts through my withering body, and I scream as loud as humanly possible, ripping my lips apart.

“Look at me,” a familiar voice says from behind me as no more sound emanates from my throat. I try to turn, to look at the person over my shoulder, but I’m frozen in place as flames climb up my legs. “Look at me.”

The person’s tone changes to anger, and frustration, as if I’m a pesky child behaving badly. As if there isn’t a full riot trying to kill me.

I turn and run—or think I do. The world morphs into a new one, and I’m standing by a lake, a kingdom full of love and laughter behind me, and a tall, strong presence to my right.

Then my throat closes up, and my skin splits, blood draining out of my neck as if I’ve been stabbed.

A little girl appears before me, holding her hand out for me to take. She has silver eyes, a sweet smile, and the whitest of white hair that reaches her waist.

Large, firm hands snatch my shoulders from behind and shake me hard. Hard enough that my spine nearly snaps. Yet no pain follows, even with the rising panic of dying. I’m a vessel with no nerve endings, no hope or life or future as my lungs no longer burn, and the blood no longer puddles at my feet.

The little girl vanishes with a puff of black smoke, and the sky lights up red, an inferno blazing through it.

The person shakes me again, again, and finally manages to turn me to look at them just as a blinding light flashes, an explosion so extreme my heart restarts, and I’m pulled from my nightmare.

I gasp and throw myself into a sitting position, sweat dripping down my face and back, my lungs heaving in as much air as possible. My chest is tight, my hair sticking to my neck.

These dreams are becoming more insane.

My hands are fine. They look fine, and I have clothes on.

I stare at the shirt I’m still wearing, the top two buttons unfastened. The cotton shorts on my bottom half are far too big, sliding down my hips. Strange. Everyone in the castle dresses like they should be in a castle, even the ones trying out a new style for fitting in with humans.

Why am I wearing gray cotton shorts I’d usually see in my world and a white dress shirt far too big for me?

My lips feel swollen as I touch them with my fingertips, and everything from last night comes back to me. Hands all over my body, his mouth on mine, sucking his tongue and tasting every drop of sin, feeling him between my legs as he palms my breast on his oak desk.

A desirable sensation passes through me, my cheeks heating. I need more. Want more. The feeling is intense, as if my body can sense him close to me and is seeking him out. Hunting. Obsessing over his touch.

With the lingering scent of fire and death is a mix of everything Dane Dalton.

And I need to snap the hell out of it before I actually throw myself from the tallest tower. Knowing my luck, that’s where Dane’s room is.

The shadows in my walls watch me as I toss my covers off and head to the bathroom, the tattoo still burning at the nape of my neck. It sizzles when I press a cold compress to it, and I hiss, screwing my eyes shut with the sting. Touching it, I feel the deep ridges of the ink, the swollen skin around it.

My hair keeps sticking to it, so I pull it into a ponytail then wrap it into a bun at the top of my head. I press the cold cloth to the tattoo again and try to see it in the mirror. Only having one makes it impossible, so I sigh and hunt for an antiseptic cream in the bag of toiletries Poppy gave me.

I find a white tub of soothing balm, so I gather a generous amount on my fingers and reach up to smooth it over the burning ink.

“It’ll only get worse if you try to heal it.”

I freeze, glancing through the mirror at Dane behind me. His sleeves are uncuffed, the top four buttons unfastened on his shirt, and his hair is a mess, as if he’s just woken up. I drop my head. A migraine is building, and I can’t be bothered with his snarky comments or bossy attitude. “Go away.”

“It doesn’t want to be healed, so stop what you’re doing before it gets worse.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” I reply bluntly, hissing again as I cover the area with the balm. “Why are you here?”

He leans his shoulder against the doorframe and shrugs. “It’s not by choice. I had to babysit you because you kept screaming in your sleep. Do you know how unattractive that is?”

I glare at his tired eyes. “Go away, Dane.”

The idiot laughs. “Always trying to push me away, mortal. Do you forget we’re basically tethered to one another?”

I throw down the cloth. “For the insufferable assignments and security measures, yes.” Although he’s barely adhered to those. “After that’s all done, stay the hell away from me.”

“We are partnered up for every class until the end of the year. What makes you think after task ten you’ll be free of me?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond as he pushes off the doorframe, shoves his hands in his pockets, and closes the distance between us. He whispers against my ear as our eyes clash in the mirror. “You’ll never be free of me. That’s a promise. After we’re done with the academy, I will follow you to the ends of your world and make your meaningless life hell.”

“Such a big mouth for someone who never follows through with his threats. It’s embarrassing how much you try to scare me, try to dominate me with your words and presence.” Against my better judgment, I keep going. “You don’t scare me, and you never will.”

A cold gust of air brushes against my ear as Dane backs away, not once breaking eye contact. “You should be scared of me. I don’t think you understand the power I wield.”

I snort. “I couldn’t care less, if I’m honest.”

He opens his palm, finally looking away to stare at it intently. I almost scoff at his ridiculousness but hold my breath as tendrils of smoke twirl around each finger and his wrist until a ball of black forms. Electric forks snap from it, the miniature storm in his hand filled with anger and the need to destroy, and as he flexes his fingers, it grows in size.

“Every magical creature has a limit on its power.” It grows larger, until I need to step back. “An endpoint that will either kill them if they don’t stop or cause them to lose their powers altogether. Some are born with that power, and some earn it through years and years of intense training, depending on their bloodline. Most of us have eternity to learn how to use it, but some perish before they see how deep the well goes.”

The candles blow out, and the flashes from the ball full of dark energy in his palm are the bathroom’s only light. His eyes usually change to silver when we have moments between us, but right now, all I can see is black. There’s no color to be seen, as if the giant orb is sucking all the happiness from the room.

I want to touch it. It’s impulsive and stupid of me, but I want to eliminate our distance and feel it in my own hand, to feel the power of Dane Dalton. I blink away the building ache to do so and cross my arms.

“Is that your power?”

“Not exactly. This is a fraction of what I have. I’ve mastered all the elements and combined them into one expression of power. I also have the shadows, and even death. I could shove this down your throat and watch it carve my name all over your body while you suffocate, then bring you back from the brink of your end.”

I gulp. “I’m unimpressed.”

“I could make you see things.”

He stays where he stands, but hands grab at the back of my knees, parting them. My eyes clash with silver ones as another version of Dane appears on his knees before me.

His lips don’t move as the real Dane says, “I could make you feel things. Say and do things. Do you want to know how far I can push my power, mortal? Because I. Have. No. Limit.”

I stare into his eyes—they burn into mine as his carbon copy circles his thumbs up my inner thighs, and my core pulses so hard I think I might hit the floor with a cry of pleasure. I grit my teeth. “You sure make it your mission to make me hate you.”

He narrows his eyes, his mirror image vanishing as he fists both his palms to snuff out the ball in his hand. The candles light, giving his furious face a beautiful golden glow he definitely doesn’t deserve. “Your smart mouth will only get you so far.”

“As long as it keeps you away, then I’m fine with it.”

Dane’s jaw tenses, and I try not to laugh at how angry he’s getting. He thinks I’m going to be terrified of him, but he’s greatly mistaken. Yeah, he’s immortal and really could kill me in half a heartbeat, but I didn’t survive multiple abusive homes without building thick armor around me.

He can do whatever he wants, but I will never, ever roll onto my back and submit.

“Did the fact that task four is imminent not cross your mind? I can’t stay away from you.”

“That doesn’t need to be covered until next week.” I turn and wash my hands in the sink, ignoring him, even when my arm grazes him as I reach for a dry towel. “In the meantime, go hang around with your little group of friends and give me peace.”

Dane chuckles lowly. He also ignores everything else I said. I toss the towel aside, fold my arms again, and say, “I’m going for a bath, one I’d like to enjoy uninterrupted, if you wouldn’t mind getting the hell out of my dorm room.”

“You’re saying things to make you seem angry, but you’re not. I don’t understand.” He tilts his head, snow-like strands flopping forward, a few of which slide into his line of vision. The silver glint in his eyes dances with the flames of the candelabra. “You don’t want me to leave, do you?”

No . “Yes.”

He smirks. “Very well, mortal. I’ll see you in class.”

“Great. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out—unless you’re going to Houdini instead.”

“What does that mean?”

“Even in your world, you don’t know Harry Houdini? The magician who did famous stunts? You know what, never mind.”

“The only person I know in your realm is you.”

I raise a brow. “You don’t know me.”

Dane doesn’t respond, so I walk by him, pausing in my steps at the sudden spinning in my head and the flash of a swing with a little girl grinning. The moment is half a second, a beat of an image, but it’s undeniable.

“What was that?” I ask, turning to face him. “I know you saw that too.”

He rubs a hand down his face. “I think having us partnered up has caused some sort of connection. I got a similar image when I tucked you into your bed last night.”

“What does it mean?”

He doesn’t give me his attention as he shrugs. “I’ll ask my mother.”

Then my eyes go wide. “Wait. You tucked me into bed?”

“I had to—you were cold.” He glances at the shadows gathering in my walls, the ones that keep me company. They don’t cower the way they did with Valin. His stare stays on the little girl, and she doesn’t hide. If anything, she tries to step towards him. He looks away quickly. “And your tattoo was bleeding. I had to… contain it.”

“Meaning?”

“It was trying to spread, and I stopped it. Are you done asking questions?”

My bare foot slips on something wet on the floor, and I grab the side unit to stop myself from falling. Dane doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do a thing to try to help me. Not that I needed it. I scowl at him anyway then glance down at the floor.

I pale. “Why is there a puddle of blood on my floor?”

I look up at Dane, and he just stares at me, his calm and controlled expression unchanged. “I forgot to clean it.” He removes his hand from his pocket, flicks a finger, and the mess is gone. “I told you—your tattoo was bleeding.”

I touch the sensitive skin at the back of my neck, the swollen ink burning still.

The shadow prince walks over and sits on my bed, leaning back on his elbows. “We have mortal studies today, something about music and television. But then we have practice. Please tell me you know how to dance?”

“What? Practice for what?”

He smirks like the devil himself. “The ball at the end of term. Didn’t you hear? You’re my date, little mortal.”

Without letting me throw him a retort or argue, he vanishes, taking the electrical charge of the room with him, along with the shirt I’m wearing and the shorts hanging from my hips.