Rebirth (Lost Souls #1)

Chapter 19

I t takes a while for all feeling to completely return to my body, the severe blood loss taking its toll. I’m broken in both a painful and blissful way, unable to explain to myself how that’s even possible.

I want to stay here, in the safety and comfort of his embrace. But the more time that passes, the more my senses return to me, telling me that this is a bad idea. The feeling of bliss is rapidly replaced by unease that gnaws at me. I need to leave before either of us gets any ideas. Before I get any ideas.

I lift myself into a sitting position, and a series of stings surges through me. It freezes me mid-reach for my clothes for a fraction of a second before I regain control. I grab my dress and haphazardly put it on. He laughs next to me while he watches me struggle with this simple task. Another curse leaves me when I get to my feet and my shaking legs only barely manage to hold me up.

“Need some help?” He laughs softly.

Embarrassment creeps right back up to me and I quickly shake my head, earning myself a chuckle. Without looking back at him, I make my way through the library, heading to my room.

Staggering to the bathroom, I run a bath and add some healing magic to it. As soon as I sit down in the tub, the hot water embracing me, I relax. My muscles are tense and my body feels broken, but my magic is doing its thing.

I lift my right hand from the water, and the ring around my finger catches the light, glistening. With a gentle pull, I verify that it indeed can’t be removed. I sigh, dropping my hand back in the water with a splash and leaning my head over the edge of the tub. This is quite a turn of events for someone that once insisted on marrying for love. He convinced me with the promise of more magical power, but I don’t feel all that different. Does it need time to fully manifest? Or did he play me for a fool?

Closing my eyes, I find myself thinking about him. His name is on my lips, yet I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.

Oh, I hope he didn’t trick me. Part of me doesn’t think so; that laugh and look were too honest—too real. But I also can’t let my guard down just yet. He’s done unspeakable things to me. He’s still an abusive asshole. My fingers gently touch my lips, my stomach in a tight knot as confusion runs wild in my head. He’s an abusive asshole that somehow managed to get under my skin.

My eyes keep going back to the wedding band made from his bone and infused with our blood. I wonder if he sees this like I do, as a means to an end. Or, at least, that’s what I’m trying to see it as. That’s what I’m trying to tell myself this is.

I chew on my lip, thinking. No matter how I turn it, I know that his forever is to be taken literally, despite the “till death do us part”. Meaning that we have plenty of time to learn to appreciate one another.

Because deep inside, I’m no longer all that certain that I want to escape him. Maybe only this place will suffice.

Once the water starts to cool, I get out of the bathtub and find myself some new clothes. I decide on a sapphire-blue dress and a matching underbust corset with dark-blue embroidered butterflies. While I get dressed, my hand casually touches the jewel of the necklace around my neck. In doing so, I feel that something about it is different, though I can’t put my finger on what. I figured out early on that the color of the jewel represents my magic, and that’s normally what I feel when I touch it. It feels slightly foreign now, though. My magic is still there, but so is something else.

Touching the jewel a second time, I let its magic flow through me, and I faintly recognize the signature. It feels like him. Is this how he intended to share his power with me? I’m not completely certain, for despite the fact that it’s unmistakably his, it also isn’t quite the same.

Hesitantly, I try to focus on that pull that used to guide me into his general direction, but I find it gone. Frowning, I wonder what it means. Perhaps I don’t need it anymore? I remember how he used his magic to touch me without casting a spell, and I wonder if it’s possible to use mine in a similar way.

My ice-blue power immediately rises to the surface, through my body and away from me, searching for his. Mere moments later, his magic replies with a gentle caress against my skin.

Looks like we are, at least, in some way, bound to each other.

Later, when I go and look for him, I find the door to his bedroom open. Once inside, I hear the shower running, so I light a few candles and sit myself in one of the armchairs in the room. Waiting, my mind wanders, my eyes falling to my new wedding band once more. This is so surreal .

The thought has barely formed itself when he enters the bedroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is mussed and damp, his muscled torso flexing as he crosses the room. His skin is still red, and I silently thank him for not reapplying the glamor. I don’t know why he has red skin, and I definitely don’t know why it does to me what it does. But the more I see it, the worse I get it.

“Feel free to join me next time,” he says as he opens the built-in closet, throwing me a look over his shoulder.

He drops the towel, and a smile tips up the corner of his lips when he sees me quickly averting my gaze. Though I do sneak a peek from the corner of my eyes while he gets dressed. He puts on a midnight-blue dress shirt, slacks, and waistcoat, adding a tie in a shade darker that’s almost black, and matching black shoes. He runs his hand through his hair, not bothering to style it, which I’ve come to notice isn’t his thing anyway. He usually keeps it wild, and it suits him.

He comes over to me and offers me his hand. I accept, placing mine in his. The sight of our rings together makes me smile. He pulls me out of the chair and into his arms, placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

“You know,” he whispers, his voice sultry, “you don’t have to deny yourself anything.”

“I know,” I admit with a whisper, gasping as he starts to place kisses on my neck.

“Then why do you?”

“Because you might take more than I’m willing to give,” I say, breaking away from his embrace.

“Then what did you come here for?” He graciously changes the subject for me.

“I want to know about the benefits that are supposed to come with this marriage.”

“Don’t be so formal.” He chuckles. “You’re not a slave.”

“But I am your prisoner, am I not?” I retort as I spin to face him. “After all, you are the one who brought me here.”

I notice a sparkle in his yellow eyes and realize that he’s riling me up on purpose. I curse at this, dropping myself back in the armchair. He sits down in the other one and regards me quietly.

“This necklace,” I start after a few seconds of silence, a slight hesitation in my voice. “It’s not really Sophia’s, is it?”

He shakes his head. “I gave it to her when she first awoke here. Initially, it was because I thought that she could use it, and later it became for safekeeping.”

“Then what is it?”

“The jewel,” he says, his eyes resting on it, “is made from both a very valuable feather, the last of its kind, and a less valuable one, for balance. It’s the only thing in existence that connects my life before to my life after.”

Closing my eyes, I touch the jewel, and my magic—our magic—runs through me.

“It’s a physical representation of the wearer’s magic,” he explains. “It helps your own magic adapt to mine, helping the two become one.”

“Without the jewel”—I open my eyes again—“they wouldn’t be able to merge?”

“They would, but it would be an unpleasant process. My magic tends to be quite invasive.”

Duly noted. “Is it possible that Isra somehow thought the necklace would give her power?”

“That might have been the case,” he replies, resting his chin on his hand and crossing his legs, “but the jewel doesn’t give power, it only helps with what the user already has. If she wanted my magic, it would have done nothing for her because I never gave any to her.”

Meaning that Isra killed Sophia over something that would have changed nothing for her. A lump forms in my throat when I remember Sophia lying dead on the floor. He sighs, leaning back in the chair.

“And even if she did possess my magic, the jewel needs to be given, not taken. It was never going to do her any good.” He looks annoyed at this. “She was nothing but trouble from the moment I brought her here.” He sees my look and adds, “I’m not into her kind of trouble. She was insane.”

That’s something I’m not going to argue about.

“The color,” I say, moving the conversation away from Isra, “is the color of the wearer’s magic, correct? Which is why it’s blue for me, red for Sophia, and translucent when not worn.”

He nods, but it’s clear that he’s growing tired of my questions. Meaning I shouldn’t beat around the bush and instead ask what I really want to know. “You say that it helps our magic become one. How long does this take, and what happens if I somehow end up without the necklace?”

“How long it takes is unpredictable, so you should make sure not to take it off.”

“But what if I do? Do I suddenly have less magic? Or will something worse happen because I broke off the process?”

“It will interrupt the merging process. I can’t predict what the outcome will be if that happens,” he replies, now clearly fed up with the conversation. “But I can fix that.” He gets up from his chair and moves toward me before I manage to get away.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, a tinge of alarm coloring my voice. “I’ll make sure to always have it on me.”

“Oh, you will.” He puts his hand on the jewel, pressing it down against my skin. A small, black circle of magic appears, and the necklace burns against me.

“What did you do?” I gasp as he removes his hand.

“The spell makes it so that I’m the only one that can take it off you.”

“You’re joking,” I say, immediately finding out that he isn’t since I’m unable to remove it. “Why?” I ask him with an angry look.

“Why not? It’s better to be safe than sorry.” He sits back down in his chair, giving me an amused look.

I shake my head, clicking my tongue.

“What?” He laughs.

“You know, even with what little I know of you”—I give him a look that tells me that I don’t appreciate it, but he just shrugs—“I get it, I do. But do you really have to be such an asshole all the time?”

He looks at me in surprise, his facial expression telling me that he clearly didn’t expect what I said. Then he chuckles, his hand moving to cover his face as if he’s trying to hide it. After a few seconds, he regains his composure, serious once more. “Tell me, love,” he says from behind his hand, “would you like me better if I were sweet and loving?”

“No,” I reply coldly. “Sweet and loving is a lie a man tells you to win you over. At least with cruelty and viciousness, I know it’s not a facade.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” he says, amused. “Does that mean that you like the cruel and vicious man in front of you?”

I look him up and down. “I tolerate you.”

“I guess that’s all I should really hope for.” He smirks while he places his hand on the armrest of the chair.

I tsk, rolling my eyes at him while turning my face away. Resting my chin in the palm of my hand, I look out over the room. From the corner of my eye, though, I still see him smirking at me. He leans back in his chair, placing his ankle on his knee while keeping his eyes trained on me. It’s strange to have a semi-normal conversation with him.

My eyes drop to the wedding band on his finger, the piece of my rib that he will forever carry with him. His demeanor toward me has changed ever so slightly since then.

“Do you find that to be surprising?” he asks.

“Not really. I guess that I would be the same if I was in your position. There’s just one thing,” I say.

He nods for me to continue, so I do, not wanting to waste the opportunity.

“Why me?”

He thinks on this for a moment before answering me. “I have spent centuries searching for the right person, the right woman. Someone that lost everything, someone completely broken. That’s why I chose Sophia, and then Isra, but one was too pure and the other too conceited. I needed someone with the potential to be as… cruel and vicious as me.”

“Then why keep them around if they weren’t good enough for you? Because they were women?”

“That certainly played a part, yes.” He snickers. “It’s mostly why I kept Sophia around. It’s also why I should have tossed Isra out a long time ago.” The way in which he says that diminishes both of them to nothing but things for him to use. Which they ended up being, in the end.

“And you think I could be that? Cruel and vicious?”

“Look at what you did to the man that betrayed you,” he remarks, anger leaking through his voice before he collects himself. “Even though you were unaware of it at the time, he was the reason that you were stuck in that whorehouse. The abuse you suffered daily inevitably pushed you to cut your wrists, driven by the knowledge that he wasn’t going to come and save you. When you put that shard to your skin, you were truly willing to die. Because at that time, it was the only way for you to get revenge. I wanted to find out if you had what it takes to get your revenge if given the chance. To live the life that I’m offering you.”

“And I failed. His lineage still lives.”

“True,” he says, “but few others would have done what you did. Or would go as far as you are willing to go.”

“Then tell me,” I press, “what do you get out of my revenge?”

“Except for a wife until the literal end of time?” He grins playfully.

I’m not amused by his deflection. He can tell from the harsh look on my face that this is not the answer that I’m looking for. That it’s not the answer that I’m willing to accept. It might not be a lie, but it most definitely isn’t the truth either.

He remains silent, thinking, as if unsure whether to tell me or not. After a few more moments, it seems he comes to a decision. All playfulness leaves him while he rolls his shoulders back, his posture serious. He gives me another long, hard look, almost as if he needs to give himself the courage to say it out loud.

“You’ll be the one to break me out of here.”