Burned by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #1)(11)
Without Noria to distract me, my aches and pains made themselves known, increasing from a dull ache to sharp, throbbing pains in the bones of my face and my ribcage. Dread pooled in my stomach as I realized that my injuries were more severe than I’d thought. I was going to have to shift to heal them.
Normally, shifting was no problem for me. Because I was half-mage and had more natural magic at my disposal than a regular shifter, I could change forms faster and more frequently. But I’d just used a boatload of magic disintegrating that rhino shifter, and I’d already been short on sleep and food then. I was past the point of exhaustion now.
Is there even any point in healing myself? I thought despondently, my eyes tracing the cracks in the concrete ceiling. If I’m going to be executed tomorrow?
Of course there is, a voice in my head argued fiercely. You’re the only one who gives a f*ck about solving the silver murders. You can’t just give up and die. Don’t allow your fear of what could be to put you into an early grave.
Tears sprang to my eyes at that last line – it was something Roanas told me often, especially when coaxing me into trying a new maneuver early on in my training. He’d taken me in when I was still a cub, after my mother died and my aunt had kicked me out of the clan, and of all the things he’d taught me that phrase stuck with me the most. It was his way of saying not to give in to my fear of the unknown – just because something could go wrong didn’t mean that it would, and if you didn’t try at all you’d never reap the rewards.
Magorah, what was I supposed to do now that he was gone?
The door at the end of the hall opened and footsteps rang across the concrete. I sat up, swiping the tears from my face in case I had a visitor. Sure enough, a hulking thug of a human with a bulbous nose and a shock of red hair dressed in leathers stopped in front of my cell. His wide mouth stretched in a grin, displaying the gold tooth that winked where one of his canines should have been.
Oh lucky me. It’s my favorite person in the world.
“Deputy Talcon,” I said coolly, sitting up straight. The pain in my ribs flared, but I ignored it, unwilling to show him any sign of weakness.
“Sunaya.” He dragged the last syllable out, then made tsking sounds as he wagged a meaty finger at me. He was built like a troll, nearly as wide as he was tall, the bulging muscles of his arms displayed by the sleeveless black shirt he wore. “I heard you were cooped up down here, so I thought I’d come down and see how my favorite Enforcer was doing.” He raised a long, paper-wrapped package clutched in his fist. “Want a sandwich?”
I wanted to tell him to f*ck off, but my stomach growled so loudly in response to the food that he laughed before chucking the sandwich through the iron bars of the cell. It landed in my lap, and I fell on it greedily, the shame in my gut unable to trump the gnawing hunger in there.
“Good little panther,” he cooed as I ripped open the wrapper and inhaled the sandwich. My nose told me it was safe, a simple if unimaginative combination of turkey and cheese, so I wasted no time in chowing it down. I had to swallow my pride if I wanted to have my strength for tomorrow.
“Got any water to go with that?” I asked nonchalantly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
His eyes narrowed at my blasé response to his goading. “You always were an ungrateful little bitch,” he said darkly, his lower lip curling.
“Sure, and you always were a disgusting, fat f*ck.”
His eyes bulged, and he lunged toward me before he remembered that there was a row of iron bars separating us. I watched with satisfaction as he stood there, taking in deep breaths through his flaring nostrils, a vein pulsing in his temple. Good. The bastard deserved to stew a little, especially after all he’d put me through.
“So,” I said, folding my arms across my aching ribs. “What brings you down from your cushy office upstairs? Got tired of jerking off to my ID photo?” I’d been down here enough times to know I was in the holding cells in the basement of the Enforcer’s Guild. Shame burned the lining of my stomach as it occurred to me that my peers had likely all watched Brin and Nila haul my unconscious ass down here, but I forced myself to push it aside. There were more important things to worry about than my bruised pride.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” His lips stretched into a cruel smirk as he regarded me with his beady eyes. “It’s been awhile since you last came in, so when I heard you were in the building I decided to come and see that pretty face of yours in person again.” His eyes gleamed with lust, and a small shiver crawled down my spine. “So much better than a picture.”
“You know,” I drawled, doing my best to cover up the disgust coating my throat, “if you pull out your dick here and try to shoot a load at me now, you might actually be able to hit me since I don’t have an amulet to incinerate you with anymore. Why don’t you try it and see what happens?” I bared my fangs, daring him – if he whipped out his dick now I had a real shot of reaching through the bars and ripping it to shreds with my claws before he could react. After all, it wasn’t like I had anything to lose now, and I partially blamed him for the situation I was in.
Talcon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve got a real smart mouth for someone who’s facing execution, hybrid.” I flinched as he spat the word, the contempt in his voice so much like my aunt Mafiela’s that my heart shriveled inside my chest. “Don’t pretend that little trinket is what saved your ass today. We both know what really happened, and you’re going down.”
Jasmine Walt's Books
- Taken by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #8)
- Scorched by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #7)
- Taken by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #8)
- Dragon's Blood: a Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy Book 2)
- Jasmine Walt
- Marked by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #4)
- Hunted by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #3)
- Bound by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #2)
- Betrayed by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #5)