It shouldn’t have surprised me. I could still feel Kharris’s eyes. The usually playful sparkling hue was flat and serious. Angry even. Hell, I even knew why.
Because I had used Iloam.
Soooooooo..... maybe I could have done things differently. I should have figured out someone else to use to cleanse the corrupted soulstone. So maybe there were pieces of decay and voices of the past lurking in the bottom of that oily stone. But they are fucking crazy, if they think for a second; I was sticking that putrescent vile stone that smelled like another warlock in my ex-husband.
Jericho may not be mine now, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t kill everyone in that room to protect him.
Iloam was strong. He could take it.
So why the hell was it Kharris’s eyes that I saw as I walked away from the scene.
That flicker of suspicion.
Because I knew why I had really done it. Tests, upon tests. All of them leaping to protect, nothing had changed for them. Who faltered, who failed, I kept tabs on that too. Don’t think I didn’t. But in the end. It was just one that paid the price. Just one. Like everything with I shared with Iloam. I never asked. I just took.
I stared down at the flat of my palm. The rounded scar peeling and rolling over the smooth white flesh. Shared.
I couldn't resist. I peeled the scab back, that sliver lurked just below the surface. Jericho. He would never know. I only stole a piece. Just a touch. Enough.
I stroked the shard and with a bitter gasp; drew it free. It was only fair. He had taken my soul, right?
They would never have to know. Just me and my demons.
Ziluri stares now, as though sudden pieces flung themselves together. He smirked that evil little impish smile. I turned back to the map. The pieces slowly rolling over landscapes of the parchment.
“Iantoh, where precisely are you hiding?” I steepled my fingertips loosely, before falling down on the raised map. "You can't hide forever," The words came out slow, leisurely as though a slow wave had been unleased from my throat. Nearly a purr. And perhaps it was a wave. That would come crashing down eventually.
I stared at my scarred palm, my thin lips curving upwards in irrepressible delight.
Yes, inevitable was a good word for me.