Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(28)

My breath was stuck in my chest as his hands ran over my face, the touch acid and ice as my magic fought against his. I gasped at the contact, but he only smiled as though he thought I enjoyed it. Could he not feel the burn, the way his magic raged through me? I could see in his smile that he couldn’t. He believed in what he was saying, every word; that I belonged to him.

It was what was behind the words that scared me—the possessiveness, the control. I could see the danger in his eyes and hear the violence in his voice, and it boiled through me, hot and angry, as my magic moved to match it.

“I don’t need you!” My words sounded more like the roar of a thunderstorm as my magic rocked through the air, pulsing in a wave of white light as Ryland stumbled away from me.

My feet left the ground as my magic picked me up, speeding me through the air only to land above him, straddling him as he had me.

“I can do this on my own! I was born to do this! I am the Siln?!” His hair whipped around his face as I yelled at him.

“Are you?” Ryland asked, his weak voice mocking from underneath me. “You have all the magic in the world and you can’t conjure enough to kill me.” He smiled again, his teeth red with his blood, his eyes dark and dangerous. “If you won’t take me… kill me! Kill me! Kill me!”

It was enough. I felt the anger snap into a wave of loathing, the emotion so strong and hot that I willingly let it take over me. I let it rule over me. I wouldn’t let him do this anymore.

“I won’t let you hurt me!” The air around me rippled as the hurricane of my anger surged, pulling in the magic that surrounded me and sending it right into Ryland as I lifted him out from under me. I suspended him in the air, the whirlwind I had created circling closer and closer as it compressed against him.

“You deserve to die!”

The tanned skin of his face faded to white before the red of his lips painted blue. He clawed at his neck as an invisible force squeezed the life out of him. I only smiled as I watched him fight it, knowing it was pointless, knowing I wouldn’t let him get away.

His hands stopped fighting as his eyes began to close, his body moments away from death. I wanted to watch him die. I wanted to see his legs stop kicking. I wanted to see the last tendrils of life leave him.

I was going to be the one to do it.





Eight



Ryland’s eyes opened in horror, his mouth gaping as the last of his air left him, his body moments away from giving in. I was going to see his end; see the final breath of the boy who had haunted me and hurt me more times than I could count.

The boy I had loved once.

If only Ilyan hadn’t barreled into my side, his arms wrapping around me as he knocked me to the ground. Ilyan’s warm magic surrounded me in a rush, the flow only a futile attempt to calm me. I wouldn’t let it. I just screamed louder, letting my magic surge as I blocked him, attempting to finish what I had started.

“Stop, Joclyn!” A rough surge of Ilyan’s magic encapsulated around us as he yelled, breaking my connection to Ryland. The wind that had been a torrent in the room left, a loud slap of flesh against stone signaling Ryland’s fall to the ground.

I fought against Ilyan’s hold, desperate to get back to Ryland, to wrap my hands around his neck, to take his life another way. Ilyan only locked his hands tighter around me, keeping me in place.

“Let me go,” I yelled again, my movements rough and volatile in my attempt to escape.

“No! Joclyn!” Ilyan yelled, but I couldn’t hear him through my screams.

His hands held strong, his magic surging through me as he tried to calm me and my magic, but I wouldn’t let him. I continued to thrash beside him until he moved over me, his hands on my forearms and his legs pinning mine down. He should have crushed me, but his hold was gentle with only enough pressure to keep me in place. He flared his magic harder against my skin as he tried to calm me, my magic still restricting him even though my heart—my very soul—begged me to accept him.

All I felt was anger and hatred and heartache, and before I knew it, I was fighting him again, his face crestfallen as I screamed at him in agony. I didn’t want to let Ilyan in; I didn’t want him to take away the rage that filled me. I liked the way the anger felt, the way it bubbled and grew and made me feel something besides jitters. I liked the way it made me feel alive.

I only wanted one thing, the thing that Ilyan had taken away from me.

“I want to kill him!” I growled through gritted teeth, my hands clenching and unclenching as I fought the need to attack Ilyan, something I knew would end in my defeat.

“No, Joclyn, you don’t.” His voice was calm as his thumbs ran over my forearms, something that should have calmed me only aggravating me more.

“I do!” I said between the tears, the dreaded things joining in my battle as my emotions swelled. “I don’t want him to hurt me anymore! He deserves to die!”

“No, my love, no,” Ilyan whispered while he lifted me off the ground, his grip strong as he began to pull me away.

I let my heels grind into the rubble-strewn floor as I tried to fight him, but it was no use; he only kept moving.

My body felt heavy in exhaustion, my overused emotions making my magic slow and sluggish. I couldn’t fight my way out of Ilyan’s hold if I tried.

I yelled out in outrage one last time before I caught sight of Ryland, folded over as he tried to regain breath, Sain wrapping his arms around him in comfort.